Morgan snorted. “I don’t know anyone who makes sounds like that during a haircut! And who gets a haircut in the middle of the night?”
Rylo pressed his fingers to his temples. “The noises? I admit I can be loud at times when I get a neck and scalp massage. She added that last because I told her I was struggling to sleep tonight.”
She watched as he shivered. The Sun Kingshivered. It couldn’t be from cold, not with the essence imbued in the Towers keeping the building at a toasty temperature, despite the cold dreary weather outside. Was he scared? Is that why he shivered?
Rylo reached for her hand, and she let hers slide into his. “Will you please come with me?” he asked.
“Fine! But I still don’t understand why you were getting a haircut right now.”
Rylo barked a laugh. “The stylist said the same thing. If you must know, I couldn’t sleep, and the thought of dying tomorrow with stubble and mussed hair was the tipping point. That at least felt like something I could control before going into battle.”
Morgan’s heart sank. He was afraid. Afraid and alone and seeking something to grasp onto that he could control.
They walked into his room together. It was warm, the bed neatly made like he hadn’t even tried to lay down for the night yet. As she walked, her ankle burned with discomfort. She didn’tthink it was broken, probably not even sprained, but it was definitely bruising.
“You’re limping,” Rylo observed as he steadied her.
“I’ll be fine.”
Rylo shook his head and moved closer to her, filling the distance between them. “Don’t do that, pet.”
He was close enough that she found her hands drawn to his bare chest, absorbing the heat of his skin and the hardness of the muscles underneath. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her eyelashes.
He knelt before her, moving so quickly she couldn’t stop him. “May I look at your ankle?”
Morgan gave her consent, slowly lifting her foot up to his outstretched hand. His hands trembled a bit as he traced his fingers along her ankle. With quick fingers, he unlatched the strap on her heel, letting it fall to the floor. His hands drifted upward to her calf.
“Rylo?” she whispered as he continued his exploration of her leg.
“Yes, Morgan?”
“What are you doing?”
Rylo let out a wicked laugh. “I’m making sure my kingslayer is in working order.”
“You don’t need to do that, really.”
He worked his hands back down to her ankle, carefully tracing the purple bruise that was already appearing before going up going higher and higher until he reached the tear in her dress. “I can’t risk you fighting on an injury, can I?”
Her breath shuddered as he examined the shredded dress, kneading his hands along her exposed thigh until he caught sight of the scrap of gold lace hidden beyond her dress.
He lightly blew a breath of sun-kissed air against the lace. Morgan’s skin prickled and a tingle shot through her core.
“Tell me, do you wear undergarments like this daily or was this bit of fabric specifically for this purpose?” he said as he began unbuttoning her shirt.
Morgan bit her lip, her voice came out husky. “It’s for you, Rylo.”
His smooth voice roughened as he said, “I hoped so. It would be a pity if I’d been missing out on this each day.”
Morgan’s hands shook slightly as she placed them on Rylo’s shoulders. “There’s a chance we might die tomorrow. I couldn’t die regretting never feeling you inside me.”
Rylo’s hands gripped her hips. “And have you had that regret for long?”
Morgan closed her eyes, as she breathed in deeply.
“Yes. Yes I have.” She exhaled as she tugged the ties on the back of her dress, letting it fall in a pile of silk on the floor.
Rylo’s eyes roamed over her skin. She felt wanted and alive and she wanted him to never stop looking at her like that. “You wicked, beautiful woman. Why have you been avoiding me?”
