Page 32 of Juliet & Her Romeos

“The delights of oatmeal.” Swan sighs. “Exciting.”

He carefully wriggles into his tights. Everybody wears the same uniform.

We must look immaculate.

Ladders in tights lead tocorrections.

Since Swan is notorious for climbing walls, falling into hedges, and fighting, it’s one of his most frequently broken rules.

And corrections.

I check myself in the mirror to make sure that I’ll pass inspection, adjusting my bun to ensure that it’s the right height.

“Here, I’ll do it.” Swan stands behind me, checking my hair with his elegant fingers.

He’s always been better at this than me.

It makes my scalp tingle pleasurably.

I wish that he’d never stop touching me.

This is a familiar routine. Ever since he became my mentor, Swan would check me over before we left for class each morning. He wants to make sure that I won’t be in trouble because my uniform is wrong.

It’s ironic that he cares about me not breaking rules, when he’s such a rebel.

Plus, when I have been caught out, he’s tried to take the punishment for me.

This time, however, it’s different.

Because I know how those fingers feel stroking across my nipples. How they can excite my clit. What those fingers feel like when they’re inside me, driving me to an orgasm that made me shake and scream…

My breathing speeds up. My cheeks flush.

When Swan’s gaze meets mine in the mirror, he looks startled for a moment. Then too knowing.

Slowly, he leans over and ghosts his lips to the sensitive skin of my bare neck. I ball my hands on my lap, willing myself not to move.

When he deepens the kiss lingeringly, I shiver.

Then he draws his thumb slowly from the base of my neck to the top of my spine. “I’ve wanted to do that every morning for so fucking long.”

My eyes widen.

Then my stomach growls again, and the moment is broken.

I redden. “I could devour even burned oatmeal right now.”

Swan’s eyes light up. “I have something better than that, Ash Queen.”

He twirls around and dives to his bed, before rummaging around underneath the mattress. Then he pulls out a large, scarlet apple and holds it aloft like it’s a crown.

“The spoils,” he declares.

My mouth waters.

How many months has it been, since I’ve eaten an apple?

“Where’d you get that?” I demand.

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