A plan? He barely has time to ponder her words before she clutches the hem of her own leather tunic, and his heart almost stops as she pulls it off. Whatever she’s wearing underneath is nothing like the underclothes she had on in the real world. Stars above.
Are they really doing this?
As natural as breathing. Awkward in some ways, perhaps, but it feels right.
And he has no desire to stop.
His hands slide along the silky skin at her waist, and he bites back a groan.
He definitely doesn’t want to stop.
Then she’s pushing him, and he barely registers that their cottage now has another room before she propels him through the door.
A water closet? Where did that come from?
She guides him toward the shower, and understanding dawns.
Water. She’s going to use the water to keep her fire at bay.
And then the shower is flowing, and she’s kissing him again. She mumbles something against his lips, and he grabs the wall as his boots vanish.
“How are you doing that?” he asks.
“I just ask the heartlanding,” she murmurs as she clings to him. The press of the flesh at her waist against his sends his mind reeling.
And then they’re in the water as it streams over them both. Her eye paint runs in rivulets down her cheeks, but it doesn’t matter. She’s perfect in every way. Perfect for him, at least.
“You won’t regret this in the morning, will you?” she asks as his hands slide around her lower back and he presses his lips to her jaw.
“Never.” He nuzzles her ear, and her knees waver, but he holds her steady.
“Your Highness.” The voice comes out of nowhere. A man’s voice. One that doesn’t belong in their heartlanding.
Rominy looks around in confusion.
“Don’t stop,” Elowyn whimpers, and Rominy swallows as he looks down at her where she clings to him.
Maybe he imagined it.
He pushes thoughts of the voice away as he busses the tip of her ear with his lips, and her breath catches. She murmurs his name with an aching longing, and he feels it deep within his core.
Then a hand grips his shoulder. “Your Highness.”
Rominy bolts up in the bed at the hotel as the room spins. The cottage is gone. The water no longer flows over him. And it’s not Elowyn’s gray eyes facing him. It’s Jonas. His head guard.
“I’m sorry for barging in, Your Highness, but it’s nearly noon. We got worried when you missed breakfast and didn’t brief us for the day like you usually do. Then it took so long to wake you...”
Jonas’s voice trails off, and Rominy tries to make sense of what he’s saying.
“Elowyn.” Rominy’s eyes swing to the bed beside him, and he blinks a few times to focus.
She’s still asleep. A gray cast fills her normally peachy complexion, and she’s burning up. He can feel her heat through the space separating them.
“I’ll leave you now, Your Highness. Again, forgive my intrusion.”
“Elowyn.” Rominy reaches for her before pulling his hand back. She’s like fire. “Elowyn!”
Jonas stills near the door, and Rominy pushes back his panic. Breathe. Elowyn would tell him to breathe.
