Page 48 of Peasants and Kings
I let out a slow exhale.
The scent of Hadrian after sex drifted toward me, a scent I couldn’t describe. Sated male, warm skin, and the aroma of an expensive shave cream and masterfully chosen cologne.
“Is your shave cream Italian?” I blurted out.
After a moment of silence, he said, “Aye. How did you know it was Italian?”
“My mother,” I said softly, smiling in remembrance. “She used men’s Italian shaving cream for her legs. She refused to use anything else.”
“Are you close to your mother?”
I swallowed in an attempt to tamp down the sudden lump in my throat and realized it was best if I didn’t say more. “No.”
He paused for a long moment and then his hand reached out to pull me into his side. It was intimate, and blurred the line of what we’d just done, and for what reason.
But I couldn’t stop from placing my hand on his chest, feeling the strength beneath my fingertips.
“Good night, Hadrian.”
His arm tightened around me. “Good night, Eden.”
I awoke to early morning sunrays streaming through the expensive blinds. I winced, feeling like I was hungover, even though I’d gone to bed completely sober.
True to his word, Hadrian had turned to me in the middle of the night, rousing me from sleep with his wandering hands and tongue. He’d kept me on edge for hours before finally letting me come. I felt like a wrung-out dishrag, and no doubt, if I looked in the mirror, I’d see bags under my eyes.
I rolled over, expecting to find Hadrian in bed next to me, but he wasn’t there. Neither were his clothes.
Frowning, I slowly sat up and ran a hand through my tangled hair.
I heard the faintest sounds coming from the kitchen and deduced Hadrian’s location. I looked at the clock on the bedside table. It was a little past seven. I still had some time before I had to get back to The Mansion.
I went into the bathroom and grimaced when I saw my reflection in the mirror. Last night’s makeup was ringed around my eyes. I turned on the faucet, let it warm, and then I scrubbed away the residue with the luxury soap on the counter.
There was something oddly sobering about washing off face paint in the early morning light.
Though I’d found pleasure in Hadrian’s arms, I definitely couldn’t dismiss the truth. In the dark, in the shadows, pleasure reigned. I had enjoyed what I’d done.
But in daylight, the cold transaction of business was first and foremost.
Hadrian was an amazing lover. And for my first Rex experience, I couldn’t have hoped for better. But that’s exactly what it was—my first experience. The first of many.
There would be other men who would be amazing in bed, but would any of them wrench desire from my body? Would any of them look at me the way Hadrian did? Like he could see past the name I called myself and the smile I plastered across my lips?
Would any of them slide between my legs and fill me so completely that I’d forget why I’d taken this job in the first place? Would any of them make me feel like a sensual, powerful woman? Or would I wake after mornings with them and have regrets about the life I had chosen.
I had no regrets now.
But I also knew I was feeling emotions that I shouldn’t be feeling. Not for a client.
I wanted more of him. I wanted another night where I was the one who climbed on top of him and madehimbeg.
I grabbed the hand towel and gently dabbed my face dry. I twirled my hair into a loose side ponytail, securing it with a strand of hair and pins.
Hadrian had ripped the lace undergarments from my body, so I slid into my dress, wearing nothing underneath. It felt mischievous and secretive.
I left my ruined undergarments and slipped into my crystal slippers before padding out of the bedroom and down the hallway.
My steps were quiet as I made my way down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Hadrian’s back was to me and he was standing at the counter. I was just about to announce my presence when his phone trilled. He reached into his black tuxedo pants pocket and pulled out his cell.
