Page 35 of The Encore’s Crown

Melted against me like she’d been waiting for it too. The memory hits with enough force that I have to change my stance, grateful for the empty hallway, because if someone saw me now they'd definitely think I was about to fuck this wall. I force air into my lungs.

In.

Out.

Again.

It does nothing.

I don’t want to calm down, that’s the problem. I don’t want to scrub the taste of her from my mouth or straighten my clothes or walk back into that room and pretend the best thing that has happened to me in I-don't-know-how-long was a mistake.

I want to knock on the bathroom door and drag her back into the hallway. I need to hear that sound again.

Instead, I head for the dining room before somebody comes looking for us and finds me standing outside the women’s bathroom with my shirt wrinkled, my hair ruined, and every thought I’ve ever had about Natalia written plainly across my face.

The door slides open and noise crashes over me. Laughter, clinking glasses, and music threading beneath overlapping conversations. A room deep into sake and expensive food, everyone loose and happy.

Just play it cool. Everything's fine.

Absolutely nothing seismic just happened thirty feet away.

The sight of her lip gloss stain on her water glass stops me cold. All I can see is the shape of her body beneath that dress. The flash in her eyes before I kissed her.

Stop.

I move before anyone notices I’ve frozen, sliding into my seat beside Rithy and trying to arrange my face into something resembling a normal human expression.

Ronan looks at me.

“Bathroom line that bad?”

“Something like that,” I mutter.

My voice sounds rough. I clear my throat and immediately regret it because I can still feel Natalia’s mouth against my neck.

Rithy’s eyes lift. He doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head and studies me with a quiet focus. The focus of a man who has known me his entire life and recognizes the exact expression I wear after doing something catastrophically stupid. I give him one tiny shake of my head.

Drop it.

His gaze flicks to my mouth, my hair, my Adam's apple jumping as I swallow with nerves. Then the empty chair across the table.

Liv asks where Natalia went, casual and unconcerned. Signe says she’ll probably be back in a minute.

I reach for my sake and knock the glass with my fingers before managing to catch it.

Smooth. Real fucking smooth.

I throw back what’s left but the burn barely registers. My blood's already molten. My skin still remembers everywhere she touched me. My waist remembers the press of her hands and my scalp still tingles from her fingers twisting into my hair.

I shouldn’t have done that, I know I shouldn’t have.

But I’d do it again before she even finished saying my name.

Across the table, life keeps going with insulting normality while I sit there trying not to stare at an empty chair like a man awaiting sentencing.

Then Rafe glances at me. His gaze moves over me like he's taking inventory.

My posture. My hair. The death grip I have on my glass.