The pain in his voice made my chest tight. “I know I did, and I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve that. You came here ready to engage with my family, and I made you feel like you had to perform instead of being yourself.”
“I gave you exactly what you seemed to want—Prince Gregory being appropriately grateful for the hospitality of his bodyguard’s family. Polite, distant, completely professional.”
“And it killed me. Watching you be that formal, that untouchable, killed me. But I didn’t have any right to be hurt by it when I’d created the situation that made it necessary.”
Eddie studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him weighing my words, trying to decide whether to believe me or protect himself further. “Why now? What changed between the parking lot and this moment that made you realize all of this?”
“Your words. ‘I merely played the role you asked me to play.’ When you said that, it hit me like a truck. Because you were right. Ihadasked you to play a role, just not with words. I’d asked you to be distant and professional by being distant and professional myself. And when you gave me exactly what I’d been modeling, I had the nerve to be hurt by it.”
“It hurt, Bash. Watching you interact warmly with your parents while treating me like a stranger. Seeing you be the person I’d gotten to know with them while becoming someone I didn’t recognize with me.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Instead of answering with words, Eddie stood up and crossed the space between us, stopping right in front of me. He looked at me with an expression that was vulnerable and determined in equal measure.
“Can you hug me?” he asked. “I know that might sound silly, but I’ve missed… I’ve missed you today. The real you.”
I opened my arms immediately, and Eddie stepped into them without hesitation. The feeling of holding him again, of having him trust me enough to let me comfort him after I’d hurt him, was overwhelming.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured against his hair. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like you didn’t matter.”
“I forgive you.” Eddie’s arms tightened around me. “But don’t do it again. Please don’t shut me out.”
“I won’t,” I promised.
We stood like that for a while, until the stress of it all had slowly seeped out of me, replaced by a deep need to connect with him. I leaned back, meeting his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”
The fact that I even had to ask was proof of how things had changed, but I needed to let that go. If he forgave me, I had to forgive myself as well.
“Yes, please.”
The kiss that followed felt like coming home after a long, difficult journey. Soft at first, tentative, both of us still somewhat cautious after the hurt of the day. But then Eddie’s hands fisted in my shirt and I cupped his face in my palms, and suddenly, we were kissing with all the desperation and relief and pent-up emotion that had been building between us.
“I missed this,” Eddie breathed against my mouth. “I missed you.”
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Eddie looked at me with an expression that was heated and vulnerable and full of trust that I was determined never to betray again. “Stay. Don’t go back to your room. Stay with me.”
18
EDDIE
For a moment, I was afraid Bash would say no. That he would step back, pat me on my shoulder, and make up an excuse as to why he had to leave. The silence between us that followed my question was a descending lift. I felt it drop each vertebra, one floor at a time, all the way to the soles of my feet.
In that endless moment, I catalogued all the reasons he might refuse. Perhaps I’d misread everything. Perhaps the apology had been professional courtesy rather than personal desire. Perhaps he’d realized that whatever this was between us wasn’t worth the complications.
I held my breath, watching his face for any sign of retreat, any hint that I’d overstepped some invisible boundary we’d only just reestablished. But then he met my eyes and his lips curled up in a sexy smile that I felt into the very core of my being. “Yes, please.”
I stared at him for a moment, letting his agreement sink deep into me, then stepped forward again and kissed him. My arms wrapped around his shoulders and I pressed myself against him. It always jolted me for a moment to realize that I was taller than him because in my mind, he was. How could a man that devastatingly good-looking not be taller than life itself?
Our tongues met again, slower this time, as if the urgency from before had faded and we both needed something softer. Something deeper.
He put a hand against the back of my neck, tracing my hairline with his fingers, firm but not forceful. His mouth was like one of London’s famous secret gardens, all lush and private and tempting. I wanted to stay there forever with him.
We kissed until the world narrowed down to him and me and nothing else: lips, tongue, breath, the sound of our own unsteady exhalations.
Bash’s hands spread wide across my back, and the way he kissed me told me he needed this as much as I did. My palms found the planes of his chest, the ridges through his shirt, and I clung to him like a man searching for purchase on a sheer face of glass. He kissed me with an edge now, not rough but with intent, like we’d both finally stopped pretending this was a game.
