Page 65 of The Princess Trap
“Yeah,” she chuckled, trying not to sound smug. “You did. Hey, where’s my knickers?”
His voice, which had been playful as usual, became iron-hard again. “They’re mine now. Okay?”
And even though her whole body felt worn-out, a spark of arousal flickered within her at his tone. “Okay.”
He kissed her again, and then she felt the mattress shift as he got up. But she didn’t hear her bedroom door open and shut behind him. Instead, she pressed her face into the pillow as the bathroom light came on. Just a flash of brightness before he closed the door on it, plunging her into darkness again. There was the sound of running water, another flash of light, and then he sank back into bed beside her.
She tried to remember why this was a bad idea, and failed.
He gathered her up in his arms and his scent enveloped her,clean linen and spice with the sharp edge of arousal and sweat. She’d done that. She kissed him, and it felt like comfort.
“Go to sleep, Cherry.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she mumbled.
He laughed. She slept.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ruben always woke up early, but he had the feeling that he’d slept later than usual.
The sun fought its way through the gaps between Cherry’s curtains, bathing the room in gentle light. The first thing he felt was the warm weight of her leg, slung over him as if it belonged there. It certainly felt like it did. His hand was resting on her hip, and he realised with a jolt that his fingers were intertwined with hers.
He’d never heard of people holding hands in their sleep. He liked it, though. The panic that usually clogged his throat at the thought of this kind of thing—this kind of casual intimacy—was nowhere to be found. Maybe Hans was right. Maybe he was in love with her.
But he had this idea of falling in love that involved earthquakes and fanfare and, frankly, disaster. This all felt verynormal. As if he’d been waiting his whole life to feel like this.To want someone like this. Shouldn’t love be tragic and fraught and all that shit? He wasn’t sure.
Ruben looked at Cherry’s head, her hair all wrapped up in a pretty silk scarf. It was slightly wonky. He had a feeling that was his fault. Then he pulled back just a little bit, to see her face. He really fucking wanted to see her face.
She looked the same as always: beautiful. Unusually beautiful. The kind of beauty that people noticed, that they stopped to look at, that they made fools of themselves over. Her face was relaxed in sleep, her full lips pouting slightly and her plump cheeks soft. But her skin was different. Her usually flawless complexion was interrupted by little marks, slightly darker than the rest of her skin. Like freckles, but bigger, softer, less frequent, scattered apart. Scars?
He traced a thumb over a few of the marks, like a constellation across her cheekbone. Her skin felt like silk. He liked it; liked touching her without the makeup she usually wore, the velvety powder or whatever the fuck it was.
He wanted to nudge her awake. He wanted to see her face when she came. But he should let her sleep.
Of course, as soon as he thought that, she woke up.
She let out a few soft sighs, fidgeting slightly, her lashes fluttering. He felt her hand tighten around his, and then her eyes opened all at once and she said, “Fuck.”
Which didn’t sound good.
“What?” he demanded.
“You’re still here.”
“Of course I’m still here.” He felt the soft, satisfied feeling in his chest drain away. “Did you want me to leave?”
She frowned. “No. But…” Her eyes skittered away from his, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought she was blushing.
He cupped her cheek, pushing gently until she looked up at him. “What?” he asked softly. He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe karma had come knocking on his door, and she was about to give him a speech about how this wasn’t serious and she wasn’t ready for a relationship. But then, he hadn’t asked for a relationship, exactly. Yet. Plus, they were kind ofina relationship. They were engaged, for God’s sake.
It occurred to him that he hadn’t given her a ring. He wanted suddenly, urgently, to give her one. Specifically, the one sitting in his room, in a drawer, beside an old photo album of his parents.
He was in love with her. He was in love with her.Fuck.
Cherry bit her lip and whispered, as if they weren’t alone: “What if Agathe comes over?”
Ruben blinked. “Well… She comes over every day. To make breakfast.”
