“Are you sure?” he questioned, his lip tilting in a smirk. “It’s a tad bit fanciful even for me.”
The stylist was unphased.“It’s a part of the look. Trust me, you’ll pull it off.”
His eyes met mine and he smiled. “It’s not so bad.”
“Yeah, but you can make anything look good.” I cleared my throat, capturing another photo of him.
“And you’re certain it’s not just the jewellery?” He tilted his head with a glimmer in his oak brown eyes. I melted.
“Certainly.” I swallowed hard.
“Do I look like royalty?” he asked me,
“You don’t need jewelry to play like royalty, they don’t call you the ice prince for no reason,” I quipped.
And then the shoot continued, and the stylist placed more jewellery on him, adjusting his necklaces and bracelets until he was practically glimmering. Eventually it was over, and the photographers looked rather pleased with themselves. I even heard one whisper “this will sell out like freshly baked bread on a Sunday morning.”
I watched him stand up and make his way towards the hall behind him. He turned back to me. “You coming?”
“Coming?”
“Come show me how much you’ve missed me,” he asked of me, and my heart sank.
I followed him into the changing room, where the air was suddenly thick with the absence of the camera flashes and the soft chatter of the crew. Wynter was already pulling off the jewelry, the expensive rings clinking together as he placed them on the counter. His bare skin, still glowing from the shoot, looked even more stunning without all the glittering distractions.
I set my camera on the chair and walked over to him, feeling the familiar rush of heat that always seemed to build when I was near him.
“Do you mind if you keep the tiara on?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Wynter raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between me and the tiara still perched on his head. “You like it that much?” he asked, his tone smooth, teasing.
“I do,” I said, stepping closer, unable to resist the pull of him. “It suits you.”
Wynter smirked and leaned back against the wall, watching me approach. “You’re really into this look, huh?”
“I’m intoyou,” I murmured, my voice soft as I reached out to trace the delicate line of the tiara, my fingers brushing lightly against his scalp. He didn’t flinch, just looked at me with those dark eyes that seemed to see straight through me.
I could feel the tension building between us, that familiar pull, but this time it was different. The moment felt charged, like the space between us had become electric. Slowly, I moved closer, my lips brushing against his as I whispered, “You look so pretty in this.”
His lips were warm and inviting, and he responded with a gentle, quiet kiss, his hand coming up to cradle my neck as his lips pressed harder against mine. I melted into him, my body instinctively moving closer, the heat between us growing hotter.
He pulled back slightly, eyes dark with desire. “You sure about this?” he murmured, his lips hovering just above mine.
I nodded, not trusting my voice anymore.
His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer, his lips capturing mine again, this time with a hunger that matched my own. The kiss deepened, and his fingers slid under the hem of my shirt, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.
I gasped against his mouth as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing into mine with a force that left no room for hesitation. The tiara was still on his head, and it was like the most enchanting duality—like something out of a dream.
Wynter let out a low, desperate sound, a hum of approval as he kissed me harder, his hands working to pull me closer. The world outside the changing room ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the heat, the hunger, theneedbuilding between us.
I searched his eyes for approval as I backed him up against the wall, he glanced down at me in surprise at my boldness. I let my fingers wander up his shirt feeling the firmness of his perfectly sculpted abs as he trembled under my touch.
“Yesoh,” he breathed, his eyelashes long and beautiful.
I leapt forward and pressed my lips against his once more, and he moaned into my mouth as I tugged at the roots of his hair. “I’ve missed you,” I whispered. “So much.”
The tiara was still there, sparkling and shimmering, but it was just another piece of the puzzle—just another part of him, just as effortlessly beautiful as everything else about him. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.
