“The council believed Harrison had great potential,” I say. This time, I don’t bother to conceal my own anger. My blood-soaked wrath. “And me? I was an inconvenience all along. They weren’t going to let someone like me ruin his future.”
“You didn’t,” Elliot says. With my foot still in his lap, he leans closer, until our noses almost touch. “Hewas the ruiner. Not you.”
“Yeah,” I say with a stiff laugh. “I know.”
I try to lower my foot off Elliot, but his hold tightens.
“Hold on,” he murmurs. “I’m not done yet.”
“We’re running out of daylight,” I say. Even though I know this will only take a few minutes longer. Even though I want tocryat how much better my left foot feels now.
“Hush,” he says.
I don’t have any memories of him saying this to me, and yet, my body recognizes his tone. I’ve heard it before, I think, likely many times. That single word makes every muscle in my body relax, until I’m halfway melted, leaned against his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he says, as if I’m the one helping him.
He finishes tending to my foot, and I almost whine when he places it back on the forest floor. He crouches in front of me, gently guiding one foot into my boot, then the other.
“Feel okay?” he asks. He looks up at me from beneath dark lashes, and my mind is flooded with filthy thoughts that have nothing to do with hiking and everything to do with the heat between my legs. I’m dizzy with arousal, and it isn’t until Elliot clears his throat that I remember myself.
“Um, yes. Sorry. Yes.”
“You sure?” he asks. He has a lace in either hand but waits before tightening them. “I have plenty of tricks in my bag.”
“I’m sure,” I say, smiling despite myself. “You’re good at this.”
“Iama healer, you know,” he says. He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “I happen to do this for a living. You didn’t think I’d go on a quest without medicine, did you?”
“I’m sorry for underestimating you,” I say. I try but fail to wipe the smile from my face. Then, after staring at him for entirely too long, I finally sober. Say something I’ve wanted since the day he was dragged into Sebastian’s manor. “I’m glad you went into healing. I always worried…”
I trail off, unsure how to finish. Or rather, unsure what hewould think if I was honest.
“Worried what?” he presses. He’s still knelt in front of me, and his large hand rests carefully on my knee. I memorize the way it looks, his long fingers stretching up my thigh.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I always worried you’d end up in politics.”
He nods. When I glance at him, he’s staring at his own hand. He’s mesmerized too, I think, by the way his touch looks on me.
“I thought about it,” he admits. “Mama always wanted me to follow in her footsteps. I just…I like helping people. Not that the council doesn’t…”
It’s his turn to leave the sentence hanging, and I get the feeling it’s because he doesn’t want to lie. All too often, the councildoesn’thelp people. They drag them through the mud, only tending to them if it’s mutually beneficial.
“I’m glad,” I say, filling the silence. “It seems like a good fit.”
“I enjoy it,” he says. He’s still looking at his hand. He stretches his fingers over my knee and thigh, rubbing slow, smooth circles against my leg with his thumb. It’s not sexual—or at least, it shouldn’t be. His thumb is barely above my knee. And yet, there’s something indescribably erotic about it. About the way he’s touching me. Reverent. Fascinated. Smitten.
I force myself to breathe, but it comes out as a shaky exhale. Elliot’s eyes snap up to mine, and his pupils widen. He swallows, and I watch the way his throat moves, feel the way his hand tightens, just slightly.
“We should keep walking,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
I do.
Not to continue the hike. I lean forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and pressing my lips against his. He takes a surprised breath, but that’s it. Then he’s kissing me back with as much—no, more—desperation than I am. He moves with swift, urgent movements, surging to his feet and easily bringing me with him. He stands with me in his arms, hands cupped under my ass.
My back meets the rough edge of bark. A tree. He’s pressed us against a tree, our chests so close I can barely breathe. Elliot readjusts his hands, slipping one beneath my skirt. The heat of his palm scorches through my tights, and without permission, my body bucks against his touch.
“Can I?—”
