Page 176 of Midnights
He follows my gaze, raising a brow. “This?” He gestures toward the plant. I can tell he's amused.
“Yes,” I reply, trying to keep my face neutral. I can’t stop the smile from tugging at my lips. This is actually really exciting, and the bastard wasn’t wrong, I’m totally into this.
He shakes his head, stepping forward without hesitation. “Onlyyouwould choose this one.”
He cuts the stem with precise, controlled movements. The air between us shifts slightly as he wraps twine around the lower part where the vines haven’t tangled, before handing it to me.
When his fingers brush mine, and the second our skin meets, I’m on fire.
A sharp jolt sears through me, head to toe, curling low in my stomach like a slow burn. I jerk back, tightening my grip around the flowers like a lifeline. My eyes snap to his.Did he feel that too?
For a beat, neither of us moves.
His gaze locks onto mine, and a slow, lazy smirk tugs at his lips like he’s waiting for me to acknowledge it. To admit what just happened.
My pulse pounds, while my body betrays me in real time as the heat in his stare dares me to pretend I didn’t notice.
“Have you heard of this solstice ritual?” He asks as if he didn’t just eye fuck me like that.
I clear my throat, “No, can’t say that I have.” My voice comes out steady, but the heat creeping up my cheeks is impossible to hide.
He chuckles softly, the sound way too satisfying for my liking. “Well, there’s not much to tell,” he says smoothly. “Just that if you leave the Fae a gift, they’ll leave one for you in return. The gift is tied to whatever intention you had when choosing it.”
I glance down at the delicate bundle, thinking about what he just said. “And if I didn’t have an intention?” I ask, desperately needing a distraction from the heat simmering between us.
His gaze darkens. “Oh, you definitely had an intention, Princess.”
I force a laugh, rolling my eyes to break the tension. “You’re obnoxious, you know that?”
“Hm,” he hums, unimpressed, stepping closer as he holds out his hand. “Ready?”
For a second, I hesitate.Why does it feel like this is a line I’m about to cross?
I place my hand in his, bracing myself. His fingers close around mine, and the warmth is instant. It's the same heat pulsing up my arm like a whispered warning.
I silently beg him not to notice, but his thumb brushes over the back of my hand and a spark ignites under my skin. His gaze lifts to mine, catching every reaction I’m trying so hard to bury.
We step into the gardens, and there he goes again, moving his thumb. Tracing slow, idle circles over my skin. It's a tiny, meaningless touch, and yet, everything inside me tightens and I can feel my nipples harden.Who even gets turned on by hand contact?
I pull my hand out of his, a little too fast.
It’s just two people, under the stars, wandering through the gardens on a silly mission to leave gifts for the faeries. Nothing remotely romantic about…
Shit.
I feel like I can hardly breathe as he turns toward a secluded spot, half-hidden beneath the low-hanging branches of an old oak.
His eyes dart from my face to the bundle of flowers in my hand, daring me to make the first move. The quiet stretches between us, every second dragging just long enough to make my pulse skip.
“Alright, just pick a tree to put your offering under.”
I hesitate, feeling oddly self-conscious under his watchful gaze, but I finally step forward and kneel to place the flowers at the base of one of the trees.
His patience feels like a trap I’m too willing to step into. Gods. Since when did setting down a flower feel like a test?
“That’s it?” I ask, glancing up at him.
He shrugs, but his eyes flare with heat. I narrow my eyes, turning back to the flowers.
