Page 114 of Spearcrest Prince

“But you didn’t understand. That night when I told you. You didn’t understand.”

“I was hurt.”

“Why? We both wanted to break the engagement.”

“I don’t care about the engagement, Anaïs.” I finally give in to the urge to touch her. Moving away from my position, I scoot towards her until I’m sitting right in front of her. “The engagement isn’t what’s torturing me. Don’t you know that?”

She slowly lowers her paintbrush and turns towards me. Blue paint is smeared on her arms, and her face is constellated with tiny blue splashes. That violet streak still taunts me, tempting me to trace it with my fingers.

“You’re so dramatic,” she says. She tries to keep her voice light, but she can’t quite look me in the eyes. “You’re not tortured at all.”

I wrap my fingers around her chin, forcing her to raise her gaze to mine.

“Anaïs Nishihara.” My voice is low and rough. “Your presence in my life is a constant torture. Your existence causes me nothing but pain and suffering. You’re slowly driving me mad, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

Her cheeks burn against my fingertips. Her lips tremble as she tries to form words. I brush my thumb underneath her lower lip, tracing the soft curve of it.

She suddenly pulls away, glaring at me.

“You should have played nice—that night in the club. It would have changed everything.”

I laugh softly. “Are you really trying to blame me for the mess we’ve made of this whole thing?”

“You are to blame.”

“Alright. If it’s my fault for ruining things when we first started, then let me start again.”

She licks her lips and lets out a startled laugh. “How?”

I hold out my hand between us. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sev.”

“Oh, don’t make us do this,” she pleads, covering her face with her hands. “It’s too embarrassing.”

I smack her arm and then hold out my hand again. “Come on.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve been in England too long, I can tell. Ugh.”

I wave my hand in front of her. “Don’t be rude.”

“Fine.” She pulls a face but takes my hand in hers and crowds her words out, as if trying to get the sentence out quickly. “Nicetomeetyou. I’m Anaïs.”

We shake hands, but I don’t let go of her. Instead, I pull her closer, resting my forehead against hers.

“Anaïs. I really like you. I like your pretty eyes and all that paint on your face and the fact you’re not wearing shoes. I think I might like everything about you, even the things that make you so different from everybody else. I probably like youbecauseyou’re different from everybody else. I like you, and I want to kiss you and touch you and strip you bare and fuck you slowly.” Her eyes widen, and the flush in her cheeks darkens, but I continue boldly. “Wanna come back to my room?”

She laughs and glances at her painting, biting her lip. “I’ve not finished.”

“You can finish it another day.”

She gestures at her things. “I need to clean up the mess.”

“Or we could come back and do it later.” I tilt my head and grin. “What would you rather be doing right now? Cleaning brushes or lying in my bed with my head between your legs?”

“Sev!” she exclaims.

“What?”

“… the second one.”

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