Page 58 of Downfall of a Princess

“Dinner, Princess?” He gestured at the table.

I followed him, sitting down on the couch as he took the same place he’d had the first night—on the floor at my feet.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“No. I’ve eaten.”

“What did you eat?”

He arched an eyebrow at my question, as if surprised by my interest in his persona. “Potato stew.”

“How about some maple-cured red fish or smoked doe cheese?” I lifted a plate with the delicacies.

“Thanks, but I’m good.” He took the plate from me and put it back on the table, closer to me than to him.

I had a feeling he could eat more despite the potato stew he’d had for dinner, just like he could’ve drunk more wine, or like he could’ve kissed me until we both panted for breath. But he seemed to hold back on everything, as if afraid to indulge before he had to give it all up and return to his life of a slave.

He interrupted my thoughts by placing a hand on my knee. “Tell me, Princess, did you think about me today?”

“Did I?” I replied with a nervous laugh.

Had there been a minute when I didnotthink about Salas? Since the first moment I saw him, this man had occupied my thoughts for one reason or another pretty much permanently.

From his easy tone, I understood Salas wasn’t expecting that kind of confession. He was just trying to get me in the right mood by flirting a little.

“Yes,” I said simply. “I did think about you.”

He rose on his knees, positioning himself between my legs.

“When did you do it? In a meeting? During dinner?” His voice dropped a notch.

“Both,” I replied honestly.

He slid his hands up my thighs. “And what exactly did you think about?”

I’d thought about how to grant him his freedom, about how hard it’d be for me to part from him, and about how I would have to go on without seeing him again. I’d also fantasized about having his hands on me again. But I chose to mention only the last part to him now because I sensed that was what he wanted to hear.

“I thought about all the best parts of our last time together. Like your kisses...”

“Hmm, you like those, don’t you,” he hummed confidently.

“I do.”

He leaned toward me, and I met him halfway, eager to feel his mouth on mine. His kiss was gentle and sweet. The glide of his lips against mine remained measured and carefully controlled. Once again, Salas was holding back. Or maybe he was pacing himself?

My glasses fogged from our mingled breath, and I took them off. From this close, I didn’t need them to see him.

“This is a gorgeous dress, Your Highness.” He moved his hands up my sides, gliding them over the ivory silk of my evening gown—an A-line dress with long diaphanous scarves for sleeves. “But I’d like to take it off now.”

“Do it, then.” I arched my spine to give him access to the buttons on the back of the bodice.

“Way too many buttons,” he complained, even as his thick, calloused fingers did a quick job of undoing the tiny pearls.

“When did you learn to remove women’s clothes so quickly?” I quipped, but immediately added, “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything about your past lovers.”

“I don’t want to talk about them either,” he echoed, promptly distracting me with more kisses to the side of my neck. “I just want to keep kissing you. Here.” He pressed his lips to my collarbone. “And here.” He caressed my shoulder, sliding down the fabric of my dress. “And here.” He kissed the top of my breast, tugging the dress down.

My breathing turned shallow. Remnants of the past fears fluttered along the fringes of my awareness like ripples of shadows. But when Salas slid a hand inside my dress and cupped my breast, the only memories that came to mind were those of him touching me before. The gentle sensation of his hands on me had replaced any unwanted touch of others imprinted on my body.

---