“Stay a little longer, sorceress,” he whispered, and her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest.
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, breathing her in.
“I need to go, Alex.” But she let out a soft yawn and he chuckled.
They lay tangled and warm. Alexander felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders, out of his chest, and out of the places he hadn’t even known he was holding tight. Theodora’s breathing deepened as she fell asleep. He listened to it for a long while, counting each inhale, and each exhale, until his own eyelids grew heavy.
CHAPTER 22
“Alex,” Theodora’s own voice pulled her from a deep sleep.
She stirred and felt the familiar weight of an arm draped across her waist and the steady rise and fall of a chest beneath her cheek. For one disoriented heartbeat she forgot where she was. But the ache between her thighs and the way her body still hummed reminded her. Awareness rushed back in a warm, dangerous flood.
“Alexander!” She gasped and got up.
She turned to find him already awake, watching her with a lazy, contented smile that softened every hard line of his face.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked as she tried to cover her breasts with the silk sheet.
“You look stunning in the morning, Theo, which is a blessing.” He grinned at her and she rolled her eyes.
He looked uncharacteristically happy . His smile was nothing like the practiced charming one he wore in public, or the guarded but amused kind he used as armor.
“Morning to you too,” she murmured, her voice still rough with sleep.
His thumb traced slow circles over the small of her back. “You stayed.”
She felt heat crawl up her neck. “I… fell asleep.”
“Yes, I noticed.” He got up, leaned in, and brushed a kiss against her shoulder. It was soft and lingering. “I like waking up to you here.”
Theodora allowed herself one indulgent moment to sink into the warmth of his skin, the faint scent of him and the way his heartbeat thudded steadily under her palm as she touched his chest. She let her fingers trail idly across him, tracing the faint scars and bruises she had discovered last night. Reminders of those ridiculous fights. For a few precious minutes they simply sat on his bed, breathing in tandem, and the world beyond the bedroom door was held at bay.
Then she glanced towards the window.
“Did you saymorning?” Her brows creased.
Then her heart lurched.
She bolted out of the bed. The sheets pooled to the ground, but she could not care less. “It is morning. Properly morning!”
Alexander propped himself on one elbow, brow furrowing as he tried to suppress his laughter. “Yes, and?”
“My parents—” Her voice cracked. She scrambled around, snatching her discarded chemise from the floor. “If I am not home—if they realize I never came back, then they will know I have done something reckless and scandalous. They will ask questions. The servants will talk. I will be ruined!”
She yanked the chemise over her head, fingers trembling as she fumbled for her corset. Alexander sat up fully now, the sheet slipping low on his hips and distracting her.
“Please, can you get dressed!” she snapped at him.
“Theo.” His tone was calm, but there was an edge to it. “Slow down. What is wrong with your parents? Why does it matter so much if they find out you were… elsewhere? Can you not say that you were at Evelina’s?”
She froze with her back to him, fingers stilled on the laces. She felt as though he was probing, but last night he opened up about Rosalind, and she had always deflected the truth.
Not this time.
The truth clawed its way up her throat and refused to be swallowed again.
She turned slowly towards him. “My mother is… ill.”
