Page 26 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

‘Do you need a sleeping tablet?’

His voice broke through the silence and she flipped her head towards his without thinking—an act that brought their faces within a couple of inches. In the silver light of the night, his features were shadowed and somehow more impressive.

‘Why?’

‘You have been tossing and turning for hours. Are you always such an animated sleeper?’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ she responded, squeezing her eyes shut in a very poor facsimile of sleep.

He sighed then was silent, his breathing rhythmic once more. Poppy turned onto her side and stared at the windows. Adrastos did not have a view of the rose gardens, like Eleanor and Poppy. His room overlooked the other side of the palace, a wooded area that was wild and ancient. As a boy, he used to go hunting in there, with his father and brother. Poppy knew this because Eleanor had told her with a sniff of disapproval as they’d researched animal welfare groups online and planned all the ways in which they’d outlaw hunting if ever they had the opportunity. They had been sixteen and idealistic.

In the darkness, Poppy could see the enormous trees silhouetted against the night sky, and her eyes chased the tops of the trees for a long time, her heart twisting, her mind gnarled and overactive, her every breath making her aware of the other occupant of this bed, his breaths, his nearness...

She groaned softly, then flipped onto her back, tapping her fingers on her stomach.

‘I can’t sleep,’ she whispered, so quietly that if he was still asleep, he wouldn’t have heard.

But his response was immediate. ‘Evidently.’

‘It’s your fault. Everything’s different. I feel weird.’

Another sigh.

‘You are the one who suggested this.’

‘I know.’

She frowned, looking at him again. Was he annoyed at her about that? She’d acted on instinct, terrified of losing this family that had taken her in when she’d been at her lowest ebb. But that had completely changed his life—at least for the next twelve nights. How did he feel about that?

‘Turn onto your side.’

She hesitated. ‘Why?’

‘Because if you don’t sleep, I won’t be able to either and I have a full schedule tomorrow. Roll over.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, but as she spoke she did as he’d said, flipping onto one side.

The bed dipped as he moved closer. Her heart almost gave out. ‘Close your eyes.’ His tone was hoarse. A moment later, his finger pressed to the centre of her back, pausing there a moment before moving in a slow, steady figure of eight. A shuddered breath fell from between her lips.

‘Oh.’

‘Keep your eyes closed.’

She did as he said, but with every swish of his finger, something shifted inside her, a growing bundle of awareness and need, so she wondered if she should tell him that his attempt to lull her was having quite the opposite effect. He was so sexy. So incredibly sexy. From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d been overpowered by his appeal, and it hit her now right between her solar plexus, so she had to fight an urge to roll over and face him, to pull him down to the mattress.

It was the last thought Poppy had before falling fast asleep, Adrastos’s soothing touch at her back continuing for a long time afterwards, his hands roaming her body on autopilot until finally he realised what he was doing and stood, staring down at the sleeping woman with consternation before slipping from the room, needing space to clear his mind.

Poppy had come into his house as a fourteen-year-old and since then she’d been a regular fixture. Regular enough that any decent man would have considered her basically a sister.

But he’d never felt that for Poppy, he realised, as he stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the fridge. He’d fought those feelings tooth and nail, even as his family had embraced her and made her an unofficial member of their clan. He’d wondered, at the time, if it was loyalty to Nick, as though everyone else was trying to replace the boy who’d been lost with a stray girl, but that didn’t quite seem right. He’d held her at arm’s length, and now he wondered ifthiswas why. Maybe he’d always known their chemistry had the power to burn him to the core. Maybe he’d always wanted to reserve the right to explore this...

He bit back a groan of his own because no matter how he felt about Poppy, to his family she was one of theirs. He shouldn’t let this go any further. They both had to make it through their relationship pretence unscathed, emerging as ‘friends’ when she left the country, so his family would accept the break-up with a small degree of disappointment and move on.

But hell, if he didn’t want to kiss her awake and make her his. He didn’t know why she’d pulled back in the kitchen. It was as though something had flicked off inside her, and the wild, whimpering woman who had been dissolving into a puddle in his arms became instead a frightened animal. And just as he would with such a creature, he’d backed off immediately, knowing that space was needed to calm her down. His own desire though had been to lean forward and kiss her back to fever pitch, which he knew he could have done easily. Which he knew he could do now.

Just knowing that he was the only man to ever stir those feelings in her spoke to some kind of ancient, male part of his soul, a part he should probably have been ashamed of. Whatever had happened between them in the kitchen, Poppy was running from it. Out of fear? Lack of experience? Nervousness?

He moved to the bench where she’d sat and pressed a finger against it. Heat travelled from his fingertips to his shoulder then spread through his chest. He closed his eyes and breathed in; his lips almost tingled with the memories of kissing her, and then he frowned, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a woman this much space in his head, if ever.

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