Page 61 of Trick

He tossed down his napkin with a flourish and tried to clamp his hand over Jinny’s mouth. This resulted in a wrestling match, a bunch of cackles on her part and laughter on Nicu’s part.

I smiled and watched them banter. Contentment wrapped around me like a shawl, coupled with an envious ache I couldn’t reconcile.

Baked cherries accompanied the stew. I raised a steaming orb to my mouth, draped it on my tongue, and bit. Sweetness and tartness mingled on my palate.

As I chewed, I felt his attention like a tangible, secretive thing. It fixated on the motions of my jaw, the muscles of my throat as I swallowed, and the press of the napkin to my lips.

I carried the memory of that look to bed, which took up residence in my mind long into the night. Some hours later, I woke to an uncomfortable dryness in my mouth. Drowsy but parched, I padded from the room and into the kitchen, shuffling as quietly as possible.

It was too dark to see the living room, where Poet and his son were sleeping. Nonetheless, a solitary beam of moonlight lanced through the small kitchen window. It was enough to guide me. I’d seen a pitcher of water on the counter earlier, but rifling through the preserve jars and flour canisters yielded no success.

“Looking for something, Princess?” a suave voice inquired.

15

Briar

I whirled, a gasp catching in my throat.

Poet resided on the opposite side of the kitchen, his frame clad in loose pants and nothing else. Idling within that slash of indigo light, the jester leaned against the counter, hands grasping the rims on either end.

My eyes dropped to the taut nipples pitting from his chest, then staggered to the wisps of hair trailing down his navel before I had the presence of mind to glance away.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, my voice as unsteady as a teacup wobbling atop a saucer. “I didn’t realize anyone was awake.”

He didn’t speak, just kept watching me. In my periphery, his torso contracted with every inhalation, siphoning in and out.

I swept my gaze over the shelves, the cupboard, the crockery—any place my attention could safely land on. Stress climbed up my fingers. Restless, I wheeled away from him and snatched the nearest object I could reach, a dishrag that I proceeded to fold.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, fighting to keep the words level, to keep them upright before they slipped and overturned.

Still, no response. The air thickened, so dense it could crush a boulder.

Unfortunately, folding the rag didn’t take long enough. So I smoothed out the wrinkles next, as if I could bring some order to this moment.

“I’m unaccustomed to people not knowing where I am at all times.” My outtakes grew heavy, weighed down by the silence. “But I like it.”

Repeatedly, I raced my palms over the cloth. “That’s not why I came in here, though.” A breeze sailed through the window, rustling the ends of my hair. “Anyway, I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

The quiet persisted.Hepersisted.

I had never been this conscious of my proximity to someone before. Not so much the distance separating us, but rather the number of steps it would take to close it.

I’d never been this alone with a man before.

I flattened my palms atop the cloth. Slowly, I pushed it across the counter, away from the edge. “Did I disturb you?”

“That, you did,” the jester murmured from behind. “You’ve been doing a routine job of keeping me up, sweeting.”

My stomach dropped to my knees. His reply brushed my spine like a plume. It didn’t just close the distance but extinguished it altogether.

Keeping my back averted would mark me as a coward. I turned on my heel, my eyes clicking back to him.

He hadn’t moved. He hadn’t needed to.

Merely by opening his mouth, the jester penetrated me everywhere.

His pants hung indecently low, baring the shadows of his hipbones, which sloped into the waistband. His pectorals rose and fell, the flesh as smooth as marble. And with that heavy-lidded expression and mussed hair, he looked as rumpled as a blanket—ravished, as though he’d recently exited a lover’s chamber.

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