Page 152 of Reign

A chuckle escapes me.

Her gaze catches on my face.

There it is.

That brief stillness she gets whenever I laugh, as if the sound surprises her every time. Her lips part slightly before she remembers herself and looks toward the garden again.

I’ve begun doing it more often.

“So,” she says, adjusting the notebook against her chest, “can I see it when it’s done?”

“You can.”

Her eyes cut back to mine. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Would I have to do a scene?”

“You don’t have to do anything.”

“That was fast.”

“It was an easy answer.”

Her fingers shift against the notebook. “What if I wanted to?”

“With whom?”

The question comes out before I can think twice.

She laughs, a little breathless. “With you. You’re the only person I know.”

Something possessive unfurls.

She says it as though it’s practical. As though she hasn’t just placed herself in my hands with one careless sentence.

“We can discuss it,” I say.

Her brow lifts. “Very official.”

“It is very official.”

“It’s just sex, Luciano.”

“When you’re with me, it isn’t just sex.”

She stops walking.

So do I.

Her eyes lift to mine, and for one second, the garden falls away around us.

The words landed more intimately than I intended.

I don’t take them back.

She swallows.