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“I know.”
There’s an electrically charged moment between us, and just when I think he’s going to kiss me, he turns away from me. It’s like he remembered who he was and who I was.
Oddly disappointed, I begin to dry the dishes while he wipes down the kitchen table.
I watch as he takes the wine glasses and bottle in his hands and walks into the living room toward the couch. With the fire going, it’s so romantic, like something from a romance novel.
I can do nothing but follow him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHRISTOPHER
The dishes have been washed, and everything put away. She has been sitting in front of the fireplace with her eyes closed and looks absolutely ethereal. I grab the two glasses of wine off the counter, and even though she is not yet old enough to drink since she is inside, it feels okay. “Here. I wasn’t sure if you wanted a glass or not,” I say, handing her the glass. She looks at me surprised, before smelling it. I am unsure if she will take a sip until she does and immediately spits it back out.
“Yeah, no. I’m good,” she says gagging and placing the glass down on the table. Chuckling, I nod my head and sit beside her on the floor. The silence with someone is new for me and I have to admit I like it. Normally, I am in silence with myself. “So, are you going to tell me why you hate me?” And here we go.
“I don’t hate you per say. It's your family and your kind I have a problem with.” She looks at me quizzically.
“My family?” I nod my head and take a sip, getting myself ready for this conversation because, having just met her, I already know she is not one to let anything go. “Well, surely you know you are not going to leave it like that. I think I have a right to know why, don’t I?” She’s right.
“I grew up as an orphan in the Evergreen Orphanage from the time I was three years old. In the beginning, it was nice. We had toys, food, and a warm place to live. The nuns would come and teach us, read to us, and give us something to believe in. Then, one day, it all stopped. The nuns stopped coming, and all hope left. There weren’t many of us kids there, but there were enough that everything became scarce.” I take a break, and I take another sip. I sneak a glance at her and see the sadness on her face. “I could handle the nuns not coming anymore, but when we stopped having heat and food and being provided clean clothes, that is what I couldn't understand.”
“Oh my gosh. That’s awful. But then, why is my family the source of your anger?” I look at her, trying to see if she is serious about that question, but when I see no hint of acknowledgment, I realize she really doesn’t know.
“One day, when I was a bit older and could write, about age seven or so, I asked the housemaster why we didn’t have heat in the winter and new clothes that fit; he said it was because the royal family stopped funding the orphanage.” I hear her gasp beside me, but I refuse to look at her now. She wanted to know, so I am going to tell her. “I didn’t believe him at first; why would I? We have always been taught how great the royal family is and how much they care for us, so surely this is untrue.
I went to the library and looked up the laws and roles of the Royal Family in our country. Part of what I found included a list of all the ways they help; one was to fund the orphanage. So you see, it was true. Your family forgot about us.” She sniffles and I begin to feel a small churning of guilt. Fuck that. She asked.
“I am so sorry, Christopher. I can’t imagine what that must have been like, but I assure you my family would never abandon the Orphanage or any of our responsibilities. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this. There has to be.” That last part, she whispers to herself.
“Trust me, Princess, I searched for one.” I don’t mean for that to come out sarcastically, but I hear it.
“No, I swear we pay into a fund that gets allocated to…to…” She stops talking, and when I turn towards her, I see the defeated look on her face before her shoulders fall, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know where it goes. Who am I kidding? I don't know anything.” The emotion in her voice is real and raw. “Wow. I really am only the spare.” That last part breaks my heart for her. Even though I know she is more than that.
“Look at me, Princess.” She shakes her head, no, tears falling down her face. Not only do I feel like a piece of shit for making her cry, but my chest is splintering at her pain. I don’t like that shit. I want Sassy Ginger back. I lift her chin and force her to look at me. “I have known you for a little more than two hours and already I know you are more than that. You are so much more than we see on the TV.” She licks her lips. I know logically she is licking the tears from her face, but try telling my cock that.
“Oh yeah? What am I like?” She asks. I see some of the fire coming back, and thank fuck for that because if she kept crying, I might have fucked her just to stop it.
“You are feisty and sassy. You are strong and so fucking stubborn it drives me insane, but it also admire your tenacity. Those are the things I know. I am more interested in the things I don’t know.” She smiles shyly and looks down before looking back up at me, her eyelashes fluttering along the now flushed pink cheeks.
“What do you want to know?” she asks, her voice husky and low. Damn, she is beautiful. I don’t realize I have been moving closer to her until I am close enough to lean towards her. My hand comes up to her cheeks and I use my thumb to wipe the last of the tears from her face, bringing the remnants of the saltiness to my mouth, wishing I could taste her from this. Her tongue peeks out and teases me, and I say fuck it.
“I want to know what you taste like,” I say before I pull her mouth to mine. Rookie move. Now I am fucked because I don’t think I can stop.
CHAPTER NINE
ANYA
Holy wow! His kiss is epic. I feel like I am on fire. When his lips move to my neck, I do not stop him. I wrap my arms around him and hold him as well. This poor man, and countless others have suffered at the hands of my family. I will fix this. It shouldn’t be too hard to determine when shit hit the fan over there.
“I need more,” I say, licking my lips.
“What do you need.”
“You,” I whisper.
“Come,” he says, standing up. He holds out his hand, and we run upstairs to his bedroom, stripping as we go. Once we reach his room, I drop onto his bed. He wrenches my legs open and growls when he sees my wet pussy.
