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I glanced around at the preparations, then up at the sun. There were always things that demanded my attention, but right now none of them mattered. Not to me. The kingdom could burn to the ground for all I cared, I had something far more important. Seeing her. Being near her.
Or as near as I dared.
* * *
I knew the secret hideaways and hidden doors of the castle like the back of my goddamned hand. Though the passage behind her rooms was pitch dark, I knew exactly where I was: right behind her dressing chamber. I wiggled a cork that I used to block one of the knotholes in the wooden wall and placed it on a natural shelf in the brickwork. Light came through in a bright circle, and I took my place behind it, peering through.
She was right in the middle of changing her clothes for dinner and had just slipped off her dress. She’d arranged the room with a screen between her and the door, so that Maria could bring and take her clothes without her having to be naked in front of her maid. But I had a clear view of her when she thought she was most alone.
Anika passed the blue dress around the screen and Maria laid it carefully over her forearm. “I’ll leave you to get changed,” Maria said, smiling down at the dress, fingering the elegant stitch work that I had ensured was the best that money could buy.
“Maria, do you think there’s time for me to have a bath before dinner?”
“Of course. I’ll have the charwoman fill the tub and I’ll get fresh towels. I’ll knock when it’s ready.”
Maria left the room, and Anika paused, listening for the latch to close on the door. I loved watching her naked in this room; she had a full-length mirror on the wall next to the knot hole.
Whenever she looked at herself, like she was now, it was like she was putting on a private show, just for me. For my eyes only. She slipped off her underclothes and stood naked, looking at herself, turning this way and that on her tiptoes, lifting her ass.
Fuck, that ass.
That crease between her cheeks and thighs, the way it made a cross of the line that ran up from her thighs to her butt. Some people worshiped the holy cross or the blessed virgin. Not me. I fucking worshiped that cross above all others. Her sacred flesh was the only religion I needed.
Seeing her naked made me instantly hard. Nothing new there. But instead of picking up her robe, which lay draped over the fainting couch to her left, she picked up a different piece of clothing. I was so fucking surprised that it took me a second to realize what it was.
My shirt. She’d picked up my shirt.
She stood there with the collar hooked over her finger, staring at it. I couldn’t see her face; I couldn’t get a read on what she was thinking or feeling. From the slow deliberateness of her movements, I could tell she was still deep in thought, still seriously rattled by what I’d said and done. I figured there was a very real chance that she’d ask Maria for a pair of sewing sheers and cut the damned thing into shreds.
But she didn’t. Instead, she very slowly slipped one arm through each sleeve and pulled it tight across her chest, twirling on tiptoes to face herself in the mirror. She closed her eyes, and then drew the cuff to her nose and took a long, deep breath. Inhaling my scent.
Holy fucking shit.
If my dick was hard before, it was like a rod of forged iron now. She let my shirt fall open to expose that creamy valley between her breasts, just like I had dressed her in the woods. Still inhaling against the cuff, she pinched her nipple through the fabric with her other hand. It was all I could do to stop myself from groaning out loud.
I was going to lose my fucking mind if I didn’t get some relief. Slipping my hand into my pants, I took hold of my cock and worked it with long, purposeful strokes as I watched her.
“You are such an asshole,” she muttered into the sleeve. She mimicked the way I ran my fingertip down her collarbone, sternum, and stomach in the woods. But then she took it further, slowly sliding two sweet fingers down. “You have no idea how much I hate you.”
Jesus. I gripped myself harder, bracing my body with my forearm and elbow against the stone wall. In all the time I’d been watching her, I’d never seen her touch herself until now.
Her finger moved between her lips, the darker patch of red hair covered by her palm. She was unpracticed and unsure of herself, though not completely inexperienced it seemed. Either way, she was getting the hang of it, and fast.
