The smooth stone cooled her flushed skin through her clothing. Her whole body suddenly warmed, her senses heightened. Her breasts chafed against the fabric of her gown, aching to be freed, yearning for the cool air to kiss her flesh.

Damn it all. She couldn’t possibly be aroused.

Envy pressed one hand to the stone next to her, the other snaking around her waist, holding her firmly against him. The scent of bourbon and berries mixed with something unmistakably masculine surrounded her, intoxicatingly dark and sinful—just like him.

Camilla could get drunk on that scent alone.

His hips ground against her. The hard ridge of him sliding against that most sensitive area, even through their clothes, stole her breath.

“Does it feel like I have a problem, Miss Antonius?”

He moved again, hitting that same place with unerring precision. A responding throb of pleasure pulsed between her legs. It felt like she had a problem.

The problem was that she wanted him to do that again.

His gaze captured hers, penetrating and deep. He knew. He’d sensed her desire, her want.

Camilla didn’t try to pretend otherwise; didn’t demand he retreat.

Her traitorous hands roamed over the backs of his defined arms, the muscles flexing beneath her caress, encouraging her to explore his back, his waist, before rising again to tangle in his soft hair.

“You didn’t answer me.” His voice was a hoarse whisper now.

Another sinfully decadent stroke had her parting her thighs on instinct, inviting him closer, deeper. She should push him away, protect her heart. This was destined to end in a few short hours.

Instead, she touched him everywhere, committing each curve, each ridge, each line to memory to paint later. The bones of his cheeks, his nose, those seductive lips… she wanted to map the road of his body and travel it again and again in her dreams.

“My only problem,” he said, gently nipping at her fingertips, “is that I want you.”

His confession was nothing but a raw whisper near her ear, a blade of truth so sharp it carved him open on the way out. Maybe she would regret it tomorrow, maybe they would both break into a million pieces after, but right now all she wanted was to soothe the ache in his voice, the responding ache in her soul.

One night.

It would be enough. Envy now knew she wasn’t human. Knew she was an equal, that neither one of them had to hold back or worry about breaking the other.

They could be as wild as they desired.

A ragged breath escaped her; perhaps it was a moan, or a wordless plea for more. Whatever language she spoke, he understood. He moved against her again. And again.

Heat bolted through her with each torturous thrust.

“I want you so fucking much,” he murmured. “I should be focused on the next clue.”

Hips met hers again, harder.

“I should be on my way to the pillars.” Another punishing, delicious thrust. “My court stands in the balance. Yet I’m here.”

His fingers tightened on her hips, branding, possessive. Her body grew slicker.

“Plotting everything I’m going to do to you. I want you shouting my name when you come, every time you come. On my tongue. My fingers. My cock. You’ve destroyed me, Camilla. I want to return the favor.”

This time, she met his thrust, grinding against him.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Tell me you want me.”

Camilla clasped on to him, fists bunched in his shirt, holding him against her. It was the only answer she’d give him, the only one that mattered now.

More.

His face dropped to her neck, hips grinding again. And again. His breath was hot on her skin, a bit ragged, too. God, she wanted him.

His grip tightened again, like he was holding himself back from a terrible fall and failing, his control slipping. He was coming undone right along with her.

Lips ghosted across her skin, the sensation haunting her senses. Maybe this was what it was like to die from pleasure, to exist outside a physical form, to only know boundless ecstasy.

And he wasn’t inside her yet.

“Camilla.”

Her name was a curse, a plea. You’ve destroyed me.

He’d done the same to her. Tearing down her walls, her happy little human life. False though it had been, it had been safety. Being near him, back in this realm, wasn’t safe at all.

It was dangerous and alluring and tempting and made her recall who she truly was.

He’d been right when he said she didn’t want Prince Charming.

She wanted the demon.

The ruthless lover who’d demand and command and force her body to submit to pleasure.

Camilla wasn’t sure how to go back to Waverly Green. How to shove herself neatly into that restrictive box again, simpering and pretending. Hiding her passion and lust for life and art and each dark game she liked to play. Pretending she did not desire as men there did.

Closing the distance now would send them hurtling over the edge. She moved so their lips brushed, breath panting in unison. His mouth hovered against hers.

“Camilla, fuck.”

The last tangled threads of their control were slipping, unknotting, releasing them from their restraints. She wondered who would move first, damn them both.

Knew it would be her.

“Destroy me.” Her voice didn’t sound like hers. It was rougher, lower, filled with sensual promises. “Kiss me.”

Envy lowered his head, closing the last breath of space between them, his lips the sweetest poison Camilla had ever tasted. If this was all they’d have, she’d make it count.

His erection strained against his trousers; it was cruel to keep it caged. She broke away from their kiss, working the laces on his trousers loose, needing to see and feel him without anything between them at last.

He drew back, gaze searching.

“You know my rule.”

Camilla nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He dropped to one knee, propping her foot on his raised leg, fingering the hem of her gown. In the matter of seconds, he magicked her stockings away.

A devilish smile curved his mouth as she shuddered at the first brush of his hands on her skin. He’d only touched her ankle, yet the bolt of awareness that shot through her tingled everywhere.

She leaned against the large column, eyes trained on the prince kneeling before her, head bent over her as if in prayer.

Camilla reached down, running her fingers through his dark locks, tracing the curve of his jaw, then drawing his attention back to hers as she tilted his face up.

From his position, it might look like Envy had surrendered, was bowing to his princess, but Camilla knew that was nowhere near the truth. On the contrary, he was about to conquer.

And she’d gladly allow him to win this round, knowing she’d be the ultimate victor.

“Brace yourself, pet,” he growled. “I’m going to fucking devour you.”

CAMILLA DID AS he’d commanded, holding on to the column behind her as Envy slowly pushed her velvet skirts up, trailing openmouthed kisses as he traveled higher. His hands wrapped around her thighs, moving in slow, wonderful strokes, his thumbs getting closer to the apex of her body with each pass, revealing more and more of her tantalizing skin.

Desire pulsed through her and directly into him. He grew harder at the thought of finally coming with her, of bringing their flirtation to that aching finish line.

The payoff they’d both feel would be unmatched.

He thought about taking her to his bedchamber but couldn’t resist the way she looked so prim and proper with her back pressed against the marble column, foot balanced on his thigh. It was her gaze, though, that promised she was a sinner in the sheets.

Because she chose to be. Just like him.