“Is it an offer?”
He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear and leans, blowing tiniest raspberries in that special spot on my pulse.
I pant, squeezing his thighs.
Jestin chuckles. “You can’t sleep?”
“Mmm, certainly not now.”
His skilful fingers begin working magic on my shoulders. “Are you seducing me, Sels?” He mocks with fake horror, “I don’t know if I can let you, after you broke my heart by your infamous act of disappearing.”
“Stop messing around! I didn’t break your heart.” I turn to punch him playfully, and stay like that, waiting for a smile to break, but it doesn’t; his face remains serious.
I gawk at him.
“You seriously didn’t know?” He raises his brow.
Have I broken his heart?
“Jestin…” I breathe out, straightening up, but he stops me.
“Naah,” he turns to me so that I fully face him and presses his thumb to my lips, parting them.
“So lustful,” he mutters, but retreats his finger.
The absence of his touch makes my body mourn instantly.
His usual ‘I-know-something-you-don’t,’ half smile reappears on his face. “Easy, love, I was only joking. Naturally, if you decide to seduce me, I am more than happy to serve my Queen.”
“Can’t you cut the sex references?” I say under my breath. I have no idea where I stand with that male.
Usually I don’t mind. The hot and bothered is one of my favourite settings, but he is using his handsome allure right now, and my game is not that good… He means too much to me to keep using him for relief.
I want to respect our bond.
“You don’t want serious from me, you only want my cock.” His smile promises to deliver.
I shiver, needing to dive into his familiar arms.
He reaches for me again, stroking the back of my neck, then tugs me close until our lips nearly meet, stealing my breath before I can decide if I even want to give it.
Ok, well, I want to. I clench my thighs in anticipation as he hovers so close that if I lean even slightly, our lips will collide.
“You don’t want serious from me,” he repeats, souring my mood. I search his face to understand what he means, and the expression I find splinters my soul.
I don’t fucking understand him; his motivations, his feelings. And they say females are hard to handle.
He treats life like a game. I won’t be a pawn anymore. I need him to brainstorm with me, to toss ideas back and forth on how to manipulate the nobles and push reforms in our favour, but he has never let me in, and probably never will.
And after THAT day, I don’t understand him.
He flicks my chin. “Come on, out with it, love.”
“Why have you offered me shelter instead of turning me down? After what I’ve done to your father?” The words rush out of me and I brace myself for rejection.
“Why would I turn you down?” he asks softly, each word measured, as if testing which are safe to speak.
I raise my eyebrow. Why is he making it difficult? He has a perfectly acceptable reason presented in the question already.
