Page 83 of A Reflection of Silver and Crimson

“No. We weren’t close. I barely spoke to her before our wedding day.”

I shove my braid over my shoulder. “Do you love her?”

“Love?” He scoffs.

My eyes widen as I move to the bed and sit. “Do you believe in love, Jasce?”

“No,” he says, his words flat, emotionless.

“How sad.” I play with the ribbon binding my braid. “I would think you are capable of loving fiercely.”

Instead of answering me, he moves to the table and pours himself wine. As he sits on the sofa and drinks, I walk to the bed and lie down.

Memories of our dinner replay through my mind as I shift to my side and resist sighing. Even now, my skin tingles, anticipating the thrill of his touch. I jerk my leg against the bedcover, trying to make the urge disappear. It doesn’t. It burns between my legs.

I squeeze my eyes shut and count to twenty, but that doesn’t work either.

I think about calling out to him and begging, then I remember that I have no claim to him. Nor do I have a claim to his touch.

The truth hisses in my ears as I fall asleep.

* * *

I wakea short while later to the sound of his footsteps as he moves to the washing stand, only wearing a pair of pants. My mouth turns dry as I tell myself to look away, but I don’t.

His muscles flex and tense as he pivots to find me staring. “Do not look at me like that, not unless you want to spread your legs for me,” he says, his voice a low, seductive growl.

Desire thrums through me as I bite my bottom lip and glance away from him.

He moves to stand in front of me. “Look at me.”

“You said for me—”

“—look at me.”

I obey, lifting my gaze to the heat smoldering in his eyes.

“Pull up your nightdress,” he says, his tone low, urgent.

I swallow and shake my head.

He moves closer and sits on the edge of the bed. “Pull it up.”

“Jasce…”

A muscle tics in his jaw as he reaches for the hem and pulls it to my thighs. “I will not take anything from you that you’re not ready to give. I only want to show you pleasure.”

“But I…”

He presses his thumb against my mouth, silencing my words. “Just feel.”

Yes, just feel.

He lowers his hand to my thigh and trails his knuckles over my skin, eliciting a soft gasp from me. He does it again, skimming over my leg with the lightest of touches. Yet it's enough. This feeling. This awakening of pleasure.

He drags his knuckles up my thigh and between my legs. I grit my teeth, wanting it to stop and needing it to never end. When he climbs higher, I instinctively spread my legs wider to give him more access.

Moonlight sprawls across his features as he caresses and discovers. I think about touching him too, of exploring his body as boldly as he explores mine. But I don’t.

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