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“I don’t know…” she trails before I kiss her again.
“Stay with me.” I repeat and she sighs. “Olive sleeps in late, by the time we’re up, she won’t even know you’ve been out the whole night because we’ll be down at breakfast.”
I think she nods, lashes flushing against her pink cheeks.
“Is that a yes?” I grin, and she lowers her chin like I’m dumb, but she likes it, and I like that look, makes me feel high in the best way.
“Yes. I’ll spend the night.” She nods, and I kiss her forehead, entangling my fingers with her as I lead her to the bed. We curl up next to each other and I wish I hadn’t given her this sweater because we’d both be fully naked right now if it weren’t for my generous chivalry; Never have I ever described myself as either of those things. I must really have had life-altering sex.
She twists around in my arms right before I’m about to nod off to sleep, and I feel like I’ve been pulled from my dreams with a magnet.
“Adrik?”
“Espie?” I whisper sleepily, barely moving my mouth, eyes closed.
“Do you think we can share a room? When we get married, I mean.”
“What?” My eyes fly open to see the seriousness in hers. “Why are you thinking about that right now?”
“Because, my mother and father never shared a room, but my brothers share rooms with their significant others.” I could barf being alluded to as asignificant other.
“I don’t know why we’re talking about this right now…“ what I wish I could say is, no. No, we aren’t getting married, so, no, we shouldn’t share a room and fuck, you’re digging that knife deeper into me because I hate the fact that I’m such a fucking asshole. And fuck her for making me hate myself— that’s a very difficult task that no one has been able to conquer. No one, until her.
“I think a lot before I go to sleep.” Same, but something I’m trying to avoid tonight. Given the very divided and frankly confusing stream of consciousness since fucking her. “And I thought, since you like this… cuddling and stuff, that you’d probably enjoy sharing a room. I’d always hoped my husband would want to share a room with me and—?”
“Espie.” I cut her off. “I just…” I exhale through my nose, lips firmly pressed together. “Can we talk about this in the morning, please?” She blinks at me like I’ve wounded her bit, but she has enough sense to recognize I’m in no way cognizant enough to have this conversation. Of course, I would share a room with her. Of course, I would want to hold the person I choose close to me at night and know they are in the safest place they can be. I can’t say that though, not to her, not when I’m sabotaging us.
“Okay.” She whispers, turning back around in my arms. I think she tries to pull away from me a bit, but I don’t let her. I bring her close to my hips, so her skin is against mine and our body heat can grow even more. Not sure why I do it, except the fact that I want her to know I care that I’ve hurt her, and keep hurting her. Yet another reason why it’s better if we don’t end up together.
She dozes off to sleep, her breaths growing longer and heavier while I lay wide awake. What she asked is playing on a loop in my mind, and I hate myself for shutting her down. This is all a little fucked, but it’s for both of our freedoms, so it is what it is.
If I can sneak around a bit more with her, help her see that I’m terrible for her and give me a way to work out my need for her body… then we’ll both be good to part ways. At this thought, I remember that we left evidence of more than just a celebratory glass of wine in the library. Our clothes are still there, probably laying by the fire or strewn across an isle of bookshelves.
If anyone finds them, we’ll be over— the gig will be up, and I’ll not be able to draw this out to make it hurt less for both of us. Sure, it’s for different reasons, but I can’t have that being snubbed by some half-wit security boy finding the evidence, or worse, Olive.
The only solution is to make a trek upstairs immediately, or else I can’t sleep tonight. As I slide out of bed, leaving Espie soundly asleep, I catch a look at her soft skin, dips of her cheekbones, and fluttering lashes. My heart lurches out of my chest and all I can do is grab it, shove it back inside and tell it to get the fuck over whatever the hell it’s doing to me. I will not be sleeping next to Espie much longer— won’t be bound contractually, or fucking around with her.
As I force myself out the door to go grab the only things capable of ending this trip besides the truth of what really happened, I shove both my hands through my hair.
Shit, I’ve really made a fucking mess of things. But then again, what’s new?
Chapter Twenty Eight:Espie
I wakeup to the sound of booming thunder that somehow shakes the entire safe-house at the base. My eyes fly open, and I’m confused for a moment where I am until my mind gives me an instant playback and I turn over in the dark to an empty bed.
I don’t know what the time is, but it’s definitely not morning, and Adrik is gone. The bathroom door is wide open and from where I’m laying, I can’t see any movement. The only sound permeating throughout the room is the heavy, torrential rain pounding against the windows and exterior of the castle.
It wasn’t my plan, any of this— having sex with Adrik, spending the night in his room, and certainly not waking up to an empty bed. There’s a twisting sick feeling in my stomach, traveling up to my throat and I try to swallow it, shove down the anxiety, and force my eyes shut again, but I can’t. I watch the windows steadily stream water, blurring the view and making it look like black waves curling and swishing outside.
Every worry I have is creeping in my mind as I lay alone in bed. When Adrik is with me, I can forget them for a while, but what if this is the worst thing I could have ever done to my family? No amount of antidotal kisses or distracting touches could alter the reality— I am no longer a virgin, and if Vince finds out, there will be no end to this marriage.
A tear streams down my cheek as the door creaks open, and I turn over to see Adrik, arms full of the remnants of our night in the library. He shuts the door, brows pulling together in a low, concerned sort of way when he sees me. After tossing the pile to the floor, he crawls in bed, scooping me up in his arms and kissing my forehead.
“Are you okay? What happened?” He grabs my face in his hands, studying it for anything that will give him some sort of idea as to why I could be crying again. Why is it that I’m always crying over him in some form or fashion?
“I’m okay.” I whisper, lips shaking, and his mouth parts like he doesn’t believe me.
“Espie…” he trails, and I tuck my head into his chest.
