His eyes just go darker, and then his hand is moving—slow, from my waist up along my ribs, and somewhere low in me something remembers last night and lights up again—and his mouth is lowering to mine before I can make another joke.
"Arkane—”
It’s barely a word. More a breath with his name in it.
His mouth covers mine before the rest can come out.
Oh.
Oh no.
Oh—
It’s that slow kiss of his. The one he’s been teaching me all summer. The one that starts unhurried and gets to my bones before I’ve noticed it’s arrived. His hand slides from my ribs down along the bare curve of my hip, and my own hand is already in his hair, already pulling him closer, because apparently that’s what I do now. I pull him closer. My body learned this weeks ago and hasn’t unlearned it since.
A sound catches in my throat.
His palm presses flat against me, low, and another sound escapes before I can stop it, louder this time, and I remember, wait, the house, his family—
His hand lifts from my hip and settles gently over my mouth.
"Silent, princess."
Whispered, so low against my ear I feel it more than hear it.
My eyes squeeze shut.
Because of course he’d do this. Of course he’d silence me with his own hand just so he can keep doing what he’s doing, and of course my body doesn’t care about his family one floor away or the servants or the early hour, because my body doesn’t take instructions from me. My body takes instructions from him.
His mouth moves to the side of my neck.
I whimper against his palm.
He doesn’t stop.
By the time he’s done with me, I’m shaking, the sheets are twisted around us, and somewhere in the middle of it I lost track of which sounds I made and which ones I swallowed, and I don’t care. He’s lifted his hand from my mouth and moved it back up into my hair, and he’s just looking at me.
Just looking.
I’m still trying to catch my breath when his fingers find a long lock and lift it.
“Your hair...”
His eyes lock with mine as he brings it to his lips, and my heart latches to my throat.
“I love the silkiness of it as I thread my fingers through them. If I ask you to keep your hair long for me, will you?”
“No.” Like I said, maturity wasn’t one of my strongest points that time, but Arkane...
His eyes only gleam.
“I know you will.”
“Why?”
Because you love me.
The memory fades, but the feelings it came with linger, and I find my hands shaking as I reach for the brush.