Once seated, Julian didn't even pretend to look away.
His eyes wandered over her, slow and shameless, devouring her like she was a forbidden delicacy he had craved for too long. She was his grandmother, a line that should have stopped him, but it only fueled the fire rushing through his veins.
All he could see was the woman beneath the crown, beneath the tough mask—a woman so ripe, so shamelessly alluring that it made the girls his age look like children. He wanted her, bad, and he didn't care to hide it.
Sat in his chair, legs spread wide, his eyes roamed, starting with her face—those plump lips, flushed and glistening from the ale, parted just enough to tease him with the thought of their heat against his.
He lingered for a moment, imagining their softness, before sliding down to her neck. Her red hair cascaded around it like a curtain, silently begging for his teeth and his tongue to worship them.
