Page 89 of Ensnared

“Whatis it you want from us,Eden?” he asks, so so gently.

Imove to stand. “Ineed some water,I—”

“Comehere.”

Mypulse thunders... butIcan’t escape the gravity of his gaze.

“Here?”Ibreathe, even asIstep into him.DidIthink he was darkness before?Inthe soft lights of the room, he shines like a star.

WhenIstand before him, he takes my damp palms in his, and dizziness swirls my brains.Hedoesn’t say anything, butIsink to my knees.Icouldn’t say why, exactly.I’msure there are thoughts floating somewhere in the mists of my mind.Butcurling up between his legs feels like breathing, like nature, like the home he tempted me with so sweetly whenIfirst arrived.

Mybody softens, relaxing into the warm, reassuring strength of his thigh.Locksof my hair pool over his leg, tickling my collarbone, andJaspertakes a deep breath asIsettle there, his eyes a galaxy.

Fromthis close,Ican see the flecks of silver at his temples.Thedelicate lines beside his eyes.Heseems older today.Seriousand tired and deeply thoughtful.

ButIfeel him tremble against me.

“Tellme what you want,Eden,” he repeats.

Mybreath shivers out, and his eyes burn like banked coals.It’sthe way he looked at me that first day, when he andBeaukissed me and fingered me to climax.

Ithink of him promising family.Hiscareful attention asIread.Everynote he’s left me.Ithink of how it might feel to curl up right here with a book, his hand in my hair, sharing passages and private moments.Howthoroughly he’s seduced me.

Maybe.MaybeIcan hope for more.

Andso,Igrasp for the sun.

“Everything,”Iwhisper. “Iwant it all.”

Jasper’seyes sink shut, his lashes a dark veil over his thoughts.ButIfeel him go someplace else.Iwatch him turn the whole world over in his mind—and whatever he sees there seems to pain him.

Whenhe sighs, it’s like a song.Sad, but desperately resigned.

“Youdeserve it all,Eden.Youboth—”Heshakes his head, meeting my gaze. “Youalldo.”

Myeyes sting.StingbecauseI’mstarting to believe it.Idodeserve more.

Ialways have.

“Iheard you in the music room withLucien,” he murmurs, and my cheeks flood with heat.Catchingthe look, his lips turn down. “Mymother liked to hear my father play—she designed the intercom system so his music could play through each room of the house.Lucienmust have accidentally forgot to turn it off.”

Heheardthat?

“Yousounded... happy.”Jasper’svoice is feather soft. “Wereyou?”Whenhe captures my gaze, he doesn’t let it go. “Washe?”

Ithink it might be impossible to lie to him, at his feet like this.

“Itwas one of the happiest days of my life,”Iwhisper, and his eyes shine liquid bright.Wettingmy lips,Iadd, “IthinkLucky...Ithink he was happy too.Imean, how do you tell?Hesmiled a lot.Buthe always smiles a lot.”Justthinking of it makes my lips lift. “Buthe wanted to spend time with me today too.That’sa good sign, isn’t it?”

WhenIlook atJasperagain, all cracks and minutiae of emotion have vanished from his face.He’sa perfect mask—solemn and pretty and impossible to read.Thenit breaks, his eyes press closed and he looks tired again.No, more than that—he looks exhausted, sucked of life and energy.

“Areyou okay?”Iwhisper.

Itunnerves me more to see him like this,Ithink.Iwant him stern and cold and pretty again.Thistiredness of his, it goes to the bone.Iunderstand it.Toowell.

Iwatch his throat work, then his reply sighs from his lips.

“Sometimes.”

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