Gyrion spread a handful of oil across his shoulders and chest. Amylia had gotten Dorren to put down a mat of sorts so they didn’t wreck the bed, and she was standing at the edge, gleaming and slippery. “Oh, whoever can pin the other for a count of five is the winner. Aside from that, it is anything goes.” She faced him across the leather mat. He had a few spots that he had missed, so she was going to try and take advantage of them. She hunkered down and touched one hand to the mat. “Agreed stakes?” “Agreed. Trousers for you or you will support my claim as consort.” “Done.” He lunged forward, and they grappled, slipping off each other and sliding apart. He scowled. “This is going to be harder than I thought.” She checked out his erection and grinned. “I promise not to pull.” His eyes widened, and she tackled him, throwing him off balance until he toppled to the mat.
