“I’m sure.”

“But something did happen?” Faye never side-steps the blunt questions—the ones that drag you kicking and screaming to the center of the bullseye. I’m pinned there now, unwilling to share what happened with my ladies, but helpless to find a graceful way out of it.

“He made me…” I hold her gaze as Elise stiffens. The two of them are the closest I’ll ever have to sisters, and we’ve talked about sex in the past, but the idea of confiding what Liam made me do, down to the last dirty detail, has my cheeks flaming.

Faye takes my hand. “You know you can tell us anything.”

“He asked me to…go down on him.” Though he didn’t ask, and I’m too ashamed to admit how powerless I was in the moment.

Faye raises a dark brow. “Did you enjoy it?”

“It didn’t…completely…repulse me.”

Elise exhales as if she’d been holding her breath for the last minute. “Don’t tease us. What was it like?”

Internally, I cringe at her noticeable excitement, but that’s Elise—always smiling and keeping things positive. From the day she came to live on our lands three years ago, she’s always been a glass-half-full kind of girl. Though I’ve never had the experience of a broken heart, Elise would be the first to offer a pint of chocolate ice cream and a collection of chick flicks.

Faye would be too busy kicking the ass of the man who’d hurt me to join in on the movie marathon. Between the two of them, they have me covered. I dart my gaze between my closest friends, taking note of their expectant faces, hearing their mutual silent question.

What was it like pleasuring a man like Liam Castle?

Scary.

Exhilarating.

Rough.

Arousing.

Shameful.

“I need to prepare for dinner,” I say, sidestepping the subject altogether.

Faye’s sigh of exasperation disrupts the dark curl teasing her left eye. “Fine. We’ll shelve this conversation for later.” She wants to needle me for more info on the art of oral sex, but she doesn’t. Instead, she turns to Elise. “Lay out a dress for the queen. I’ll draw a bath.”

“Something in black, please,” I tell Elise as I follow Faye into the en suite bathroom. The color’s appropriate for a rebellion, suitable for a funeral. The perfect camouflage to face twelve predatory men over dinner.

Several minutes later, I’m sinking into hot water with a relieved sigh, suds rising over my breasts. My nipples poke through the bubbles, over-sensitive from the change in temperature, and the chancellor plays on my mind like flashes on a picture reel.

The confidence in his touch.

The command in his voice.

The surrender on his face when he came.