The Hood and his Thief: A Fantasy Romance Fairytale Retelling (The Talented Fairy Tales Book 3) by S.C. Grayson

Author:S.C. Grayson [Grayson, S.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-06-19T18:30:00+00:00

Hair tickled Rhosyn’s nose, consciousness slowly filling her, just as air filled her lungs. But she was so comfortable, and she wasn’t ready to wake yet. Pushing away awareness, she instead burrowed deeper into the solid warmth beneath her, filling her lungs with another deep sigh that tasted of spicy sweetness.

As she nuzzled her nose further into the ticklish hair, she realized that for once it was not her own rebellious curls having fallen into her face at night, but much smoother and shorter. Her eyelashes fluttered, but she forced herself to keep them closed, as the realization that she cuddled into a decidedly masculine body took hold. She didn’t move as she took stock of the situation.

Somehow, she had ended up burrowed into the crook of Ansel’s neck, the hair at his nape stirring with her every breath. He lay on his back, one of her legs slung across his hips, her front molded tightly to his side.

What stole her attention more than the muscular press of his side into her chest, or the way her angle positioned one of his thighs between hers, was the heavy arm laid across her own shoulders. The hand belonging to the arm came to rest on her head, fingers burrowed into her hair at the crown of her head. In response to her small movements, the fingers began to move, infinitesimally massaging into her scalp.

A breath stuttered out of Rhosyn at the tingles the touch sent down her spine. Unconsciously, she arched back into the touch, and the fingers moved again, rubbing in the tiniest of circles and pulling lightly at the hair at the nape of her neck. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Having Ansel play with her hair shouldn’t feel absolutely sinful, but here she was one breath away from moaning.

A rustle of sheets broke the quiet of early morning as Ansel turned his head on the pillow, and a small part of Rhosyn cringed to know that he was awake and aware, not just unconsciously responding to her proximity. A much larger part of her reveled in the feel of his lips moving against the crown of her head as he murmured her name.

“Rhosyn.” His voice was rough from sleep, rumbling in his chest far more than his normal smooth tone. The word was both a question and a warning—and just as delicious as the fingers that hadn’t quite stopped moving in her hair.

Her only response was to nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. If she responded, she would have to face some semblance of reality, instead of enjoying the toe-curling feel of his nails now lightly raking against her scalp. The slight scratch sent warmth dripping down her spine to pool in her core.

She shifted her hips unconsciously at the sensation, and she discovered the delicious friction of Ansel’s thigh pressed between her own. Rhosyn shifted her hips again, more purposefully this time. Now, her core was pressed firmly to him, growing so warm that she was sure he could feel the heat of it through her long shirt.

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