Page 63 of Princess

In fact, it’s making me decidedly cranky.

So instead of my typical cheerfulness as I let myself into his room—chatting about what’s happening with the rest of our people and making sure he has everything he needs—today I’m as quiet as he is.

I don’t want to bite his head off for no good reason—merely because I’m not getting the sex I want—so it’s probably best for me to keep my mouth shut right now.

He’s lying on his bed since it’s the only place in his apartment where he can keep his leg stretched out straight. I arrange pillows behind him so he can sit up, and then I move the tray of food onto his lap. His eyes never leave me as I get him situated and then putter around the room, straightening things up and changing the projected landscape in his window to a pretty little cabin beside a lake.

After a while, I get self-conscious, so I stop fidgeting and check his bowl. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, then eat it. We have way too much zucchini and squash right now, so we’ll be having them in everything for a while.”

“I like them.” He takes another bite of his mostly vegetable stew and keeps watching me as I pull the chair up closer to the bed and sit down.

Maybe if I’m sitting, I won’t feel so awkward and irritable.

It doesn’t work. I wait, but he doesn’t take another bite. He’s too busy pretending he’s not peering at me. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it,” I grumble. “But it’s kind of silly to waste food like that.”

His eyes narrow. For a few seconds, I think he’s going to get angry, but he doesn’t. He simply proceeds to finish his stew in a series of wolfish bites.

As ridiculous as it sounds, this manages to annoy me even more. With a slight huff, I get up, grab his now-empty bowl, and take it to the sink to wash it out.

I’m drying it and brooding to myself about why I did something so stupid as begin a relationship with a man who’s locked up as tight as Grant, when he asks gruffly, “What’s going on, Olivia?”

I whirl around and almost snap at him, merely because he called me by my name. I stop myself just in time.

He waits a few seconds for a response but doesn’t get one. “For fuck’s sake, tell me what’s happening right now.” The impatient demand comes out as almost a growl.

“Nothing’s happening. I’m just not in a very good mood.”

“Why?” His expression has changed now. He glances quickly toward the door and then straightens up on the bed. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?”

“No!” I’m seriously about to lose it now. An infuriating tear leaks out of my eye, and I have to swipe it away quickly. But I’m not sad. I’m simply fed up. “I’m allowed to be in a bad mood sometimes, you know.”

“Of course you’re allowed, but you never are. Not without a reason. I’m stuck here in this fucking bed for half of eternity, and I can’t see for myself what’s been going on. So if you don’t tell me what’s upset you right now, I’ll—”

“You’llwhat?” I cut in, a challenge in my glare I don’t fully understand. “You’ll do what exactly? Touch me? Because you haven’t done anything like that for a week now.”

I feel like a fool after the words burst out. My whole face flushes hot.

And it’s even worse when he’s clearly stunned by the outburst. His eyes widen. His lips part slightly.

“Sorry,” I mumble, turning away from him. “Forget it.” I rub my face and search the room for something I can do with my hands to distract myself.

What I really want is to sink right into the floor.

“Get over here, princess,” he murmurs thickly with a quiet authority that shivers through my spine. “Right now.”

I freeze. Don’t move immediately. I’m terrified of what I might see on his face.

“Right the fuck now.”

When I turn around, he has moved. He’s seated on the edge of the bed, and he’s about to get up.

“No, you’ll hurt your leg!” I run over to help him get back into a safer position.

He reaches out to stop me and then draws me closer to him with his big hands on my hips until I’m standing between his thighs. “My leg is fine. But youaren’tfine, and that’s a lot more important to me.” His expression is sober. Weirdly intense. “You honestly think I don’t want to touch you?”

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