Page 53 of The Rejected King
Emree’s breath hitched. “I don’t know,” she whispered.
Time moved slow between them, thickening the air. Heat spread through Davin’s body, hot enough to send him up in flames right then and there. He had never felt this way before. Emree had completely turned his world upside down to the point that he couldn’t concentrate on anything else but her.
The longer Davin held her, the more he wanted her. It had been over a month since Emree had kissed him at the Morreck Inn, but Davin could remember every second of that kiss. The way her lips felt against his. The way she smelled of vanilla. The way her silky hair wrapped around his fingers. Those memories ignited a spark deep inside him, a spark he was desperate to rekindle.
His eyes flickered to her mouth and all his resolve melted. He couldn’t hold back anymore. Davin’s lips parted and softly pressed against hers, slowly taking control. Chills rippled through his body as her lips responded to his. The kiss was gradual, meaningful. His hands roamed from her back, up to her neck, and into her hair, greedily taking her in his arms.
The urgency of the kiss deepened as Emree met him with her own fervent passion, sending her energy rushing through him. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers tickled his neck. The passion that had been ignited the first time they had kissed blazed to life, burning even brighter, scorching him inside out. Davin couldn’t hold back. He was tired of hiding his feelings. He wanted Emree in his life. All of her.
Then he remembered himself—remembered the Promenade, remembered Portlend Ricks, and remembered that he couldn’t have her.
He jerked back, putting an excessive amount of space between them.
What had he done?
Emree
What had Emreedone? Technically, Davin had kissedher, but that was beside the point because Emree had kissed him back. She hadn’t just returned his kiss. No, she had kissed him in a way that said I’m-head-over-heels-in-love-with-you. Apparently, she had no control when it came to Davin and his lips—his shiver-inducing lips.
Emree wasn’t in a stable place. She had ended things with Portlend less than twenty-four hours ago. She was in no position to kiss another man, but it wasn’t like this was some kind of rebound, something that had come out of nowhere. Her feelings for Davin had been building for some time now. He flipped her stomach over just by walking in the room. He made her feel wanted and appreciated just from the way he looked at her.
Emree’s heart screamed that she was meant to be with him. But could her head really trust her heart? How reliable were feelings? Davin was the king, and Emree was part of the working class. Feelings couldn’t take any of that into consideration.
Davin paced back and forth in front of her, rubbing his face, then suddenly he stopped. He looked directly at Emree, regret written across his face. “Miss Dutson—”
Oh. We’re back to Miss Dutson.
“—I would like to apologize for my actions. It was completely wrong of me, and I’m embarrassed about my behavior. It was inappropriate. I crossed the line, and it will never happen again.”
Emree nodded through his entire “regret speech.”
Wrong of me. Embarrassed. Inappropriate. It will never happen again.
Davin was right. Their kisswaswrong, and he probably should be embarrassed about kissing a working-class woman. It should never have happened.
Emree agreed with all those sentiments. She was aware of the class rules, but she couldn’t help the hurt tearing through her heart.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, trying to mask the burning pain in her chest—pain that hurtsobadly. There was no possible way her expression hid the sting.
She backpedaled to the door. “It’s not a big deal at all.” Her voice sounded weird and way too cheery. “Let’s forget it ever happened.”
Davin raked a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving her as she raced backward to the door. His expression teetered between anger and frustration.
Emree cringed. Either emotion was equally unwelcome.
She reached the door, forcing a smile so fake it likely looked like pre-Desolation plastic surgery. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner,” she said, then she escaped, shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.
“Miss Dutson?” Millar asked, standing on guard next to Davin’s door. “Why do you always do that when you leave the king’s room?”
Her head swiveled to face him. “Officer Millar, will you do something for me?”
He looked back at her with an unreadable expression.
Emree ignored his disinterest, continuing on. “If I ever act interested in another man again, will you please hit me over the head? Like just whack me...as hard as you can?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”
She pushed her back off the wall. “Because I can’t be trusted, Millar. I can’t be trusted.”
