My fingers traced the spines of books I couldn’t name because my mind raced with memories of yesterday, of his body against mine. I blindly plucked one from the shelf then walked back and took a seat in the chair opposite him.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Really? A tragic love story about twisted destinies and French architecture. And monsters that hide behind the face of beauty.
Sutton’s eyes lifted from his book. His gaze caught my legs as I crossed one over the other and leaving me regretting my choice to wear this dress. His stare was intense and invasive, and it penetrated me to the bone. I felt his fingertips on every inch of my body without him even touching me.
“It’s late. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.” His polished voice slid over my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
I was.
I flipped to the next page in my book, not entirely focused on reading. The black ink ran together in a cluster of undecipherable lines and shapes. I just needed something to do with my hands. “Why are you here?”
He held the book up as though the answer were obvious. “I’m reading.”
The Art of Sailing. Obviously being a super sexy prince with mad piano skills and unrivaled knowledge of the female body wasn’t enough for him. Now he needed to learn how to sail, too. Awesome.
“And why do you keep calling me little sheep? Like I’m about to be sacrificed or something.”
His lips quirked to the side, and his eyes glinted with challenge. “That depends… Are you a virgin?”
I peered over the top of my book. “Maybe.”
He let his gaze slide over my body. “Doubtful.”
The memory of yesterday lingered deep down in the pit of my stomach like the finish of a fine wine. I twisted in my chair, clenching my thighs together to ease the sudden ache. His mouth curled in a wicked grin then he went back to his book as though he were the only one in the room.
In the distance rolling thunder rumbled, declaring the untamed power of Mother Nature. I looked out the window at the charcoal sky at the same time a bolt of lightning split open the heavens. An ice-cold chill shot up my spine. I clung to the book in my hands like I clung to my dad’s memory—like I might disappear without it.
I hated storms.
“Hey.” Sutton tossed his book onto the table next to him and sat up straight. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward to search my soul for lies. “You don’t look fine.” The concern in his voice sounded genuine. I tried to ignore it, but all it ended up doing was strengthening this overwhelming gravitational pull between us.
I closed my book and stood up. Pelts of rain began hammering the ground, pulling memories to the surface of a night I wished I could forget. I used to love the rain. The steady drumming on my rooftop always lulled me right to sleep. I would lie in my bed and count the seconds between the thunder and the lightning the way Dad had taught me to. Now it gave me nightmares. I walked over to the bookshelf, sliding the hardcover novel back into its place. I pretended I was brave when all I wanted to do was run to my villa and hide under my covers and never leave.
Before I could turn around, Sutton’s arms caged me in. He leaned down and whispered against my ear. “It’s okay to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of the rain.”
I’m drowning in it.
“The rain brings us life, Katie. It makes the grass greener and the flowers bloom. It quenches the thirst of those precious crops you love so much.”
Maybe for him. For me, there was no life. Nothing bloomed. There was only rain above and destruction below. Storms were uncontrollable, like a Mack truck speeding without any brakes, no way to slow down for the impact. They didn’t bring life. They ripped it up by the roots and scattered it across the ground in piles of chaos.
I spun around to face him, which was a big mistake because now his eyes were locked on mine, gripping, piercing, owning. Reminding me of all the things I lost and exactly who was to blame. Thunder rolled again, thrumming to the pounding of my heart.
“I don’t need you to play therapist, Sutton. We shared a moment. So what? That doesn’t mean you know me.”
He toyed with the hair that fell over my breast, letting his fingertips brush my nipple and bringing it to a peak. “I know you better than you want me to.”
The energy around us vibrated like the windows in the storm. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. I was sure losing my dad would kill me, but here I was, breathing, feeling, and very much alive.
Katie shuddered the second I touched her. Her full breasts rose and fell with the heave of her chest. All I thought about was how perfectly they would fit in my palms, kneading her tight little nipples between my fingers, how she would arch her back and—
“You should go,” she said, ripping through my fantasy.
That’s not what your body says.
I wanted to mark every inch of her. I needed to see her face when she came again. It was an all-consuming obsession that I had to see to the end. First, I needed to know where her loyalty laid, if she shared her father’s hatred for the Crown or if my dad was right and she was just grieving. Soon, I would be king and inherit my father’s enemies. I had to make sure she wasn’t one of them. My last name—and all the fucked-up obligations that came with it—didn’t give me any other choice.
The wind whipped in the trees outside as rain hammered against the windowpanes. The storm matched the turmoil in my soul—wild and chaotic, as if nature had reached inside me and pulled it out of my chest to unleash it on the world.
“It’s storming out there. You can’t run to your room and hide. You have no place to go, and I have nowhere to be. There’s just here and now and we’re doing this.”
She studied my face with the curiosity of a cat. “Remind me exactly what it is that we’re doing?”
“Truth or Dare... Minus the dare. I have questions and I want answers.” I had a hard time taking my eyes off her tits. A blush crept over her skin, but she never moved to shield my view, as if she liked me looking at her that way. Fuck me.
“Oh, you want answers?” She threw her head back in a laugh, and all my mouth wanted to do was bite the curve of her neck.
“Why do you hate the king?” Even though the crown had practically been sitting on my head for the last week, my father was still the king.
“I never said I hated him.”
“You never said you didn’t.” I tucked her hair behind her ear, letting my fingertips dust the side of her face. This might be a self-serving recon mission, but I couldn’t keep myself from touching her. “I didn’t peg you for a liar.”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“Then answer the question.”
She ran her tongue across her lips, then swallowed hard. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. I was beginning to think the silence would last forever.
I loved the silence. After a lifetime of voices telling me how to speak, what to wear, who to like, I welcomed the silence. With Katie, I hated it.
Just answer the fucking question. Call him a thief. Say he’s a liar. Tell me all the things your father taught you to say.
Finally, she spoke. “My mama loves it here. She’s happy. She lost everything too, and this… this place, this job, it gives her something back.”