He smiles down at me, swirling the emerald-green liquid in his tumbler with his free hand. “Aren’t you here to tell me something?”
“What could I possibly have to say to you?”
He pretends to ponder, then takes a sip of his drink. “Oh, I don’t know. Two words, perhaps. That’s the reason you’re listening at my door, isn’t it? You want to redeem your free pass. You’re ready to use me.”
“That’s not it at all,” I say, but my words come out thick.
“Then why are you here?”
“I…I was just wondering where you and Monty might be.”
He downs the rest of his libation. “We were drinking. Well, I was drinking. Monty was smoking.”
I glance at his loose state of dress again, then the fall of his hair, sticking out at odd angles behind his pointed ears, in a way that looks more alluring than slovenly. The infuriating fae is sex incarnate, whether he’s dressed in a full suit or with liquor on his lips and his buttons undone. “That’s all you were doing?”
A corner of his mouth curls. He blinks at me, slow and heavy. “I was drinkinga lot.”
My chest loosens, and my breaths come easier. Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him in such a state since our first night in Floating Hope before I got acquainted with Cloud Dive. He was adorably drunk that night…until I got more drunk. At Somerton House, he only had a few drinks and didn’t seem at a loss of faculties. But now…yes, I suppose inebriation explains hismussed state. I hate how charmed I am by it. How relieved I am that he wasn’t with a lover.
Then again, I have every right to be relieved. I’d like to keep my one-point lead for as long as I can. After I redeem my free pass, I’ll have a two-point lead.
That’s all the comfort I need for now.
I uncross my arms and square my shoulders. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”
“Weenie.”
I ignore him and continue to brush past. He reaches for my elbow yet again, but his moves are clumsy. His fingers come around the belt of my robe instead. My momentum has my sash untying with the next step I take. I pull up short, but the burgundy velvet is already falling from my shoulders. My first instinct is to cover myself, but I’m distracted when William fumbles his empty glass. I abandon my concerns for my robe and reach to catch the tumbler. He lunges for it at the same time. Our fingers collide, knocking the glass to the side. It falls safely and unharmed to the soft rug beneath our feet.
While my fingers are tangled in William’s.
I don’t know how to react. My eyes lift to his, only to find him slack-jawed and drinking me in from head to toe. Shit. My open robe. Again, I think to cover myself, but his expression has me reconsidering. The sight ofmeput that look there. Did it also make him clumsy? Did he drop his glass because he was so shocked at the sight of my robe unraveling?
Instead of pulling the velvet closed over the front of me, I shift slightly, encouraging it to slide further down my shoulders, revealing even more of my chemise. Let him see all of it. Every inch of the white muslin that covers all that he cannot have tonight. His fingers tighten around mine.
I step back slightly, giving him an even greater view, but his eyes are on mine now. “I’ll have my hand back, William.”
Wicked delight plays over his face, and he tugs my palm, forcing me to take a step closer. “Let me give you a proper goodnight first.”
I swallow hard. “What do you mean?”
He holds my eyes and lifts my hand. Then he lowers his mouth to my knuckles. I suck in a breath, recalling how he licked my neck in the train compartment. Hardly an hour goes by without me thinking about it, and now the memory caresses me like a lover. The thought of memory-lovers reminds me of the shadow-lover I fantasized about when William had me against the wall outside my dormitory room. Now there are three of him in my mind. A shadow of heat at my back, a tongue flicking up the column of my neck, and the version of him who stands before me, radiating his undeniable allure. He brushes his lower lip over the curve of one knuckle, then the next. A gesture that should be chaste yet is somehow one of the most erotic things anyone has done to me. Heat pools between my thighs, and his earlier words blare through my mind.
Use me.
Use me.
Use me.
He presses his mouth fully over the back of my hand. I nearly protest when he straightens, but I let my fingers slip from his.
“Goodnight, Weenie.” With a wink, he turns away, retrieves his glass from the floor, and strides to his door.
Belatedly, I force my feet to move, fleeing to my own door. I pause, gripping the handle but not turning it. A glance to the side shows William is doing the same. He lifts a brow in question, a silent dare to redeem my pass. To call him over to my room so he can show me all the other places he might caress with his lips. I’ve already lost my senses at the feel of them on my neck and hand. How much better might they feel on?—
I clench my jaw and force the thoughts to recede. Force the heat pulsing at the apex of my thighs to stop giving me unnecessary ideas and save them for when I can truly sabotage William with my free pass.
My desire doesn’t relent, it only builds and burns, but I at least gather the resolve to open my door.
