Read Online Naughty Little Gift -- A Temptation Court Novella (Temptation Court, Book 1) by Angel Payne - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Angel Payne
Ads: Link
waiting for his lady…
Returning his stare, I smile. In my mental journal, I record the metaphor, for it fits. Knightly passion, while perfect, was never intended to last. What kind of perfection ever was?
Six months is an ideal time limit for perfection.
The conclusion lends me the steel for the last of my goodbyes. Maimanne and Paipanne.
I turn, dutifully ducking my head before them both. Mother is the first to tuck me close, pressing quick kisses to both my temples, before scooting back and murmuring, “You are to use that money only for emergencies. You have it stowed safely, yes?”
I lift my head. Search for the sheen in her eyes like Saynt’s, indicating she’s muttering about money to cover deeper emotions, and that she worries about me leaving for a city with a population ten times that of our island…
Her eyes are hard as flint.
I suppress my disappointment as Father steps over. Perhaps they have agreed he will handle the emotional overtones of the farewell. Makes sense. Mother is not a “public display of affection” type—actually, she is not an advocate of the practice in private either—meaning Paipanne has surely been assigned the parental parting duties.
I lift a new smile at him, giving it an I’m-being-brave-but-do-not-feel-it wobble. He leans over—and bestows the same dual kisses on my forehead, with the same formality as Mother. Tilts my head up, so I am impaled by the similar granite of his stare.
“Do not disgrace our family.”
So this is what a fist in the heart feels like.
I step back, struggling around the blow for breath that needs to come. The pressure surges, jerking my shoulders back and my head up. As I look one last time, I borrow a heavy scoop of stone from both of them—one for my left eye, one for my right.
“Have not a worry, Paipanne . I know exactly what is important to you.”
*
Cassian
“What is it?”
The words are out the second I guide her into the leather chair next to mine, then cinch her seatbelt. The syllables are damn near a demand by this point but maybe that’s for the best. Whatever force of fate has spurred my inner caveman for this woman has intensified tenfold by watching her board the plane like a zombie, her steps full of wood and her eyes full of loss.
“ Mishella .”
Her head jerks up—and for a second, she terrifies me. Her gaze takes me in as if she’s been jerked out of a dream. Worse, as if we’ve never met.
Second thoughts?
Dammit…no .
“What. Is. It?”
Suddenly, she’s back—honing her gaze into me as if she wants to laser me open. Pressing fingers to my face, and infusing it with the same penetrating force. I battle—in vain—to keep those beams from searing my cock. Lasered. Game over. Hasn’t it been from the start with her?
“You…really care how I answer that.”
She doesn’t phrase it as a question but I hear her bewilderment, responding with a slow nod. I don’t want her to stop touching me.
“But that does not matter,” she finally murmurs. Expels a long sigh, as if making room for the fresh infusion of sadness over her lush features. “Just get me out of here. Now. Please.”
FIVE
*
Mishella
F or a second —perhaps many more than that—I regret letting go of my rage in favor of ogling Cassian like a hormone-drenched teenager. Can I be blamed, after the ferocity of his stare, the press of his lips to my knuckles, and the way he barks, “Wheels up” into a phone in the bulkhead? Just as it has been since we arrived at the airport, every move is about my needs and comfort…
Even now, when a lot of my comfort is beyond his control.
A lot of it.
With the exception of the juncture of our hands, my whole body twists from the race of my bloodstream, the heave of my lungs, the tripled pumps of my heart. Was I actually congratulating myself on the tarmac, for thinking the engines’ roar was the scariest part of this “flying” thing? Now, with the whole plane shaking as it gains momentum,
Returning his stare, I smile. In my mental journal, I record the metaphor, for it fits. Knightly passion, while perfect, was never intended to last. What kind of perfection ever was?
Six months is an ideal time limit for perfection.
The conclusion lends me the steel for the last of my goodbyes. Maimanne and Paipanne.
I turn, dutifully ducking my head before them both. Mother is the first to tuck me close, pressing quick kisses to both my temples, before scooting back and murmuring, “You are to use that money only for emergencies. You have it stowed safely, yes?”
I lift my head. Search for the sheen in her eyes like Saynt’s, indicating she’s muttering about money to cover deeper emotions, and that she worries about me leaving for a city with a population ten times that of our island…
Her eyes are hard as flint.
I suppress my disappointment as Father steps over. Perhaps they have agreed he will handle the emotional overtones of the farewell. Makes sense. Mother is not a “public display of affection” type—actually, she is not an advocate of the practice in private either—meaning Paipanne has surely been assigned the parental parting duties.
I lift a new smile at him, giving it an I’m-being-brave-but-do-not-feel-it wobble. He leans over—and bestows the same dual kisses on my forehead, with the same formality as Mother. Tilts my head up, so I am impaled by the similar granite of his stare.
“Do not disgrace our family.”
So this is what a fist in the heart feels like.
I step back, struggling around the blow for breath that needs to come. The pressure surges, jerking my shoulders back and my head up. As I look one last time, I borrow a heavy scoop of stone from both of them—one for my left eye, one for my right.
“Have not a worry, Paipanne . I know exactly what is important to you.”
*
Cassian
“What is it?”
The words are out the second I guide her into the leather chair next to mine, then cinch her seatbelt. The syllables are damn near a demand by this point but maybe that’s for the best. Whatever force of fate has spurred my inner caveman for this woman has intensified tenfold by watching her board the plane like a zombie, her steps full of wood and her eyes full of loss.
“ Mishella .”
Her head jerks up—and for a second, she terrifies me. Her gaze takes me in as if she’s been jerked out of a dream. Worse, as if we’ve never met.
Second thoughts?
Dammit…no .
“What. Is. It?”
Suddenly, she’s back—honing her gaze into me as if she wants to laser me open. Pressing fingers to my face, and infusing it with the same penetrating force. I battle—in vain—to keep those beams from searing my cock. Lasered. Game over. Hasn’t it been from the start with her?
“You…really care how I answer that.”
She doesn’t phrase it as a question but I hear her bewilderment, responding with a slow nod. I don’t want her to stop touching me.
“But that does not matter,” she finally murmurs. Expels a long sigh, as if making room for the fresh infusion of sadness over her lush features. “Just get me out of here. Now. Please.”
FIVE
*
Mishella
F or a second —perhaps many more than that—I regret letting go of my rage in favor of ogling Cassian like a hormone-drenched teenager. Can I be blamed, after the ferocity of his stare, the press of his lips to my knuckles, and the way he barks, “Wheels up” into a phone in the bulkhead? Just as it has been since we arrived at the airport, every move is about my needs and comfort…
Even now, when a lot of my comfort is beyond his control.
A lot of it.
With the exception of the juncture of our hands, my whole body twists from the race of my bloodstream, the heave of my lungs, the tripled pumps of my heart. Was I actually congratulating myself on the tarmac, for thinking the engines’ roar was the scariest part of this “flying” thing? Now, with the whole plane shaking as it gains momentum,
Similar Books
