I sigh, rubbing my sweaty hand on my pants. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I won’t.”
A look of disbelief spreads across my face before I can stop it. She holds my eyes, and for some reason, I feel like I can tell her anything. Maybe even everything—but this is a good start.
“My mom.”
She squints, trying to piece it together. “Your mom?”
I nod. “My mom and I would always watch this movie when I was younger. It was her favorite, and I loved how much she loved it.” I pause, glancing over at Sadie, who’s giving me her full, undivided attention. “One time when we were watching it, she told me that she got the inspiration for my name from the movie—I’m actually named after one of the characters.” I shake my head. “But she was worried I wouldn’t have my own identity if it was theexactsame, so she took out a letter. Instead ofWestley, she pickedWesley. No T.”
Sadie smiles, soft. “That’s…really sweet. You were a total mama’s boy, huh?”
“Maybe.” My mouth quirks. “Anyway, in the movie,Westleydoes everything for this girl and he never gives up. Fighting for her. Rescuing her. Loving her…despite everything…”
“Let me guess,” she says, pursing her lips. “She’s a princess.”
“Eventually…yes,” I say, biting back a smile.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving that you’re sharing this with me, but I still don’t understand why you callmePrincess.”
Here it goes.
“My mom always said that one day, I’d meet the person who would changeeverything. Turn my world upside down. Make colors seem brighter. That everything would make sense, and I would justknow.” I pause to take a slow drink. “She always romanticized everything.”
Anticipation coils tight in my chest, waiting for her reaction—but she only stares up at me, silent, unblinking.
Regret creeps up my throat and I wish I’d lied. I wish I’d made something up. Spun a dumb story about how she seemed like a royal bitch when she got here, so I came up with a stupid little nickname that was completely meaningless.
But instead, the truth poured out, and I shared a piece of myself with her in a way I never have with anyone—because sheisthat person for me.
“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Her soft voice breaks through my mental spiral.
Then, in a flash, her mouth is on mine.
The kiss steals my breath and instinct takes over—my hands cup her jaw, dragging her closer.
She deepens it, kissing back harder, more desperate, her tongue sliding against mine.
I could live in this moment forever and still crave more.
I’m fucked. So fucking fucked.
Every atom of my being screams at me to stop, to pull back, to put distance between us before I ruin us both. But desiresteamrolls reason, and suddenly she’s straddling my lap, her chest pressed against mine. She grinds into me in a way that sends lightning ripping through every vein in my body, and my grip on the curve of her waist tightens.
She tastes like wild impulsivity and heaven and everything I’ve tried to deny myself.
Her hands slide down my chest, nails grazing, pressing just enough to leave trails of fire in their wake, and when her fingers fumble with my belt, I nearly lose it. Heat rushes low, pulsing through me until I can hardly breathe.
“Are you still cold?” I choke out, tugging at the neckline of her sweater, desperate for a tether.
She shakes her head slowly, eyes dark, cheeks flushed. “The opposite, actually.”
A rough sound rips from my chest before I can swallow it. I tear the sweater over her head and toss it aside, unable to bear a layer between us any longer. My hands find her like they’ve been waiting years—palms sliding along her waist, thumbs tracing the soft dip of her stomach.
She shivers beneath my touch. I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in, forcing myself to hold still even as every part of me is screaming to take more.
“Is this okay?” The words come out raspy and raw.
