Page 482 - Fourth Wing

“Like what?” I arch an eyebrow.

His gaze flashes to mine. “Like you’re thinking about the sparring gym
last night.”

“Well, duh,” Rhiannon says across from me. “That’s why Devera has

about five hundred black dress uniforms in commons right now. Where the
king travels, so does the party.”

“Well, now that you mention it.” My tongue flicks over my lower lip,

remembering how his hips pinned mine to the mat after everyone had left
for the night. How close we both came to giving in to the pulsing need

between us.

His jaw flexes, and his grip tightens on his fork. “Seriously. I can’t think
when you look at me like that.”

“Really? I figured those were for graduation?” Ridoc questions.
Imogen scoffs. “Like anyone dresses up for graduation. It’s basically a

giant formation where Panchek says, Look, you lived. Good job. Come get

your assignments and then pack your shit and leave.”
Everyone laughs at her spot-on imitation.

“You’re the one with the ridiculous rule about not falling for each other,”
I remind him.

“You’re still looking.” He forces his attention back to his plate.

“You make it hard to look away.” I miss his mouth on my skin, the feel of
his body pressed against mine. I miss the look on his face when he watched

me come undone. But I miss the feeling of him curled around me in sleep

more.
“I’m over here keeping my hands and memories to myself because you

asked me to, and you’re fucking me with your eyes. That’s not playing fair.”

I drop my fork and everyone at the table turns to stare.
“You all right over there?” Rhiannon asks, her eyebrows rising.

“Yep.” I nod, ignoring the flush of heat creeping up my neck. “I’m great.”
Liam sets his glass down and glances between Xaden and me, shaking his