He does so without hesitation, but when he turns back around, he makes no attempt to cross the room. The heat in his gaze as it trails along my silk-clad form down to where the hem grazes my knee ignites a fire within me that only he can stoke.
His right hand flexes into a fist, but in his left, I see an object glinting.
“What’s that in your hand?” I ask.
He inclines his head toward the candles. “Explain what’s happening here, and I’ll tell you.”
Now that he is standing within arm’s reach, all the things I had planned on saying seem so insufficient. Silly. Foolish even. What had I been thinking? I wrench my hands in front of me, wishing one of those candles would fall over and this whole tower would go up in flames. “You first. Please.”
He seems to understand my hesitation, and his expression softens. “When I left last week, I realized that I never gave you the present I promised.”
In light of losing his father and his brother’s ascension to the throne, I hardly expected him to remember some silly promise he made to me half in jest. Yet he did.
His boots make no sound as he crosses the room and catches my hand, placing the object in the center of my palm. A fluted white bloom suspended in glass.
“It’s a moonflower,” he says, as if I don’t already know exactly what it is. “You said they were your favorite, so I had one made that will stay open just for you, whether the moon shines or not.” The corners of his starlit eyes crinkle when he smiles. “Do you like it?”
A handsome prince just gave me the most thoughtful, beautiful gift I have ever received in my life. How could I not like it? “I love it.” Every time I look at this flower, I will be reminded of the moments I’ve had with him, however fleeting they may be.
His grin widens. “I believe it’s your turn now.”
Right. I suppose it is.
No turning back now.
I place the flower on my bedside table next to one of the flickering candles. My empty hands want to twist together, but I force them to my sides and meet Senan’s questioning gaze. “I want you to fuck me.”
The prince goes rigid, frozen like the beautiful flower he gave me. “I’m sorry?” His voice comes out all squeaky and strained. He coughs, clearing his throat. “What did you just say?”
It took all my courage to say it out loud once, and now he expects me to repeat it? “Never mind.” I whirl back to those damn candles and blow them out. Smoke twists and curls like the disappointment in my chest. First thing tomorrow, I’m moving to Stratiss and changing my name.
“Allette, stop.” Senan takes me by the shoulders, keeping me from blowing out the rest of those infernal flames. “Just… stop.” He drags his hands through his hair, leaving them there as if holding his head in place. “Shouldn’t you… Fuck… I don’t know… Don’t you want to wait for your husband?”
The frustration in his tone snaps me out of my spiral, replacing the flood of embarrassment with the heat of anger. “Why? Have you waited for your wife?”
A wince. “Well, no, but…”
“Exactly. You might not have chosen your betrothed, but you have chosen who to take to your bed. Don’t you think I deserve the same choice?” At one point, I had considered taking a lover, but the suitors who used to appeal to me no longer do. The worst part is, I knew this would happen the moment I met Senan. That all the other men in my life would pale in comparison. Now, it feels as if it doesn’t even matter which one I pick because none of them arehim.
His hands slide down the back of his head, catching on his neck. “I’ve never slept with a virgin.”
“Good.”
“How is that good?” he scoffs.
“That means we can be each other’s firsts.” I catch the end of my belt and pull. The silk slides free, and a whisper of cool air dances across my bare skin through the gap in the lapels. When I shed the robe entirely, Senan lets out a choked curse.
Instead of averting his gaze like a gentlemen might, his eyes turn molten, drinking me in as if memorizing every inch of my naked form.
“Turn around,” he grits out.
I am powerless to do anything except his bidding, turning in a slow circle. When we’re facing one another once more, he is biting his knuckle, leaving tiny indentations on his index finger.
How is he able to hold back? Does he not like what he sees? Shouldn’t he be overcome with lust by now?
His hand drops, and he splays his fingers over his thighs. “I’m not going to fuck you, Allette.”
That isn’t what he’s supposed to say. Not at all.