His lips move from my mouth to my jaw, then trail down my neck to my collarbone. I throw my head back, panting, wanting his lips everywhere. Everywhere.
His mouth comes to my ear. “For the love of the night, Em.”
The sound of my name has my grip on him tightening.
But then I remember what it means.
He called me Em. Short for Ember, yes, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t knowme. Isn’t kissingme. He’s kissing who he thinks is Princess Maisie’s lady’s maid. A woman he’s pretending to court.
I go still in his arms, and he freezes too. He releases me, and I slide away from him. My insides beg me to return, to leap back in his arms and feel those lips caressing my skin, even if for the last time.
But I can’t.
Ican’t.
This is one of our final moments together, and he hasn’t the slightest clue.
By midnight, I’ll be gone.
And it just…it wouldn’t be right to do that to him.
Nor would it be right to do that to myself.
“We should get back,” I whisper and turn toward the shore. Can he hear the regret laced in my tone? “Stay here until I get dressed.”
“Don’t worry,” he says, voice thick despite the crooked grin he wears. “I’m going to need a few minutes to cool off.”
41
EMBER
Every inch of me burns as he flies us back to the palace. It’s almost painful to keep my arms around his neck, for it only conjures thoughts of my hands in his hair, his lips on my collarbone. I wonder if he can sense the desire pulsing off me in droves. If he does, he says nothing, does nothing to try and convince me to pick up where we left off.
Oh, how badly I want to do just that…
We land in an empty courtyard in the garden, not far from the dome. It’s ringed with evening primrose, filling the clearing with their bright yellow hue.
Franco releases me and puts space between us, shoving his hands in his pockets as if that will keep him from reaching for me. He gives me a hesitant smile. “Should we return to the ball?”
My stomach sinks. I try to calculate how much time has passed since I last saw a clock. It must be close to midnight now. Close to goodbye. Close to freedom.
Why doesn’t that fill me with the same excitement it should?
“I’m a little tired,” I lie. “I think I’ll return to my room.”
He frowns. “Are you all right? Was the lake too…” He swallows hard, worry filling his expression.
I allow myself to smile, to deliver a fraction of the warmth emanating from my molten core. “Yes, I’m all right. The lake was wonderful.”
“Maybe we should do it again sometime,” he says with a timid smile. His eyes lock on mine. “The kiss at least. I would kiss you again. Anywhere. Anytime. If you’d want me to.”
Of course I want you to. I want you to kiss me now. I want you to kiss me always.
But that’s not what I say.
Instead, I stand tall, adopting my princess persona. “As nice as that was, we don’t need to kiss to pull off this game of pretend.”
He takes his hands from his pockets, his fingers curling and uncurling. “What if it isn’t pretend?”
