The carriage hit a small dip in the road, rocking them.Bea’s shoulder brushed his—an accident, nothing more.
Except Nicholas didn’t move away.
And this time she didn’t retreat.
His hand lifted, hovering for a beat near her cheek as if he were asking permission without words.
Bea stared at it.
At him.
At the wicked patience in his eyes, as if he were willing to wait all day for her to admit what they both knew.
Her throat tightened with the sheer maddening pull of it—the way he could be clever and kind one moment, and then unapologetically seductive the next.
First, he had made her feel as if she mattered.
And now he was making her feel as if she was wanted.
Bea swallowed.
Nicholas’s thumb brushed her cheek—barely a touch, barely a claim.
Bea’s breath shuddered.
“Say it,” Nicholas demanded.
Bea glared at him.“Say what?”
“What you want,” he replied, voice low, eyes steady.“Just once.I won’t have you accusing me of forcing you into anything.You want this as much as I do.I know it.”
Bea’s entire body felt too hot, too awake, too alive.
She looked away for half a second—toward the curtained window, toward the safe world outside.
Then she looked back at him.
At his mouth.
At the faint curve of his smile, as if he already knew how this would end.
Bea’s pulse thudded.“Oh, shut up,” she hissed.
Nicholas’s eyes gleamed brighter.“Gladly.”
Bea leaned in, furious at herself for doing it—and furious that she wanted to do it even more.But if she kissed him, it would be because she decided to—because for once she wanted something without thinking about it endlessly first.
“Shut up,” she said again, closer now, a hot whisper, “and kiss me.”
Nicholas’s smile vanished.Not into softness.Into something sharper.Hungrier.As if she’d finally given him permission to stop pretending this was a game.
“Yes,” he murmured.
Nicholas’s hand slid slowly along her hip, not fumbling, not presumptuous—asking and guiding all at once.He wanted her to feel every moment, to understand why she was trembling.And he wanted to make her tremble even more.
His lips brushed against hers, softly at first, but not tentatively.Merely playful—an easy, testing touch that stole her breath and then gave it back.He wanted to hear her decide to take more.
Bea’s fingers tightened on his coat, not pulling him away, not yielding entirely either—holding him there in that delicious, undefined middle space.
