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“For what?” My eyes widen. “Are you having weird orgies in here or something?”
“No weird orgies,” he says, though the look on his face doesn’t exactly make me feel better. “There’s some clothing for you in the bathroom. Get changed, do your night-time routine, and get in here. I’m waiting.”
“You’re being bossy as hell, you know that, right? What if I’m not ready for sleep?”
He reaches over and presses a button on the nightstand. Heavy shades descend over the big windows. The lighting dims slowly down to a dull glow. The space transforms into sleep mode with a smooth, oiled glide, and I swear the sound of birds and crickets chirping softly filters in through speakers hidden in the walls.
“Get going,” he commands.
I sigh and do as he asks, not in the mood to argue. Besides, I do want to experience that absurd bed, if it can even be called a bed at that size.
I put on a tank top and some shorts. He must’ve pilfered these from my room earlier. I wash my face, floss, brush, do that whole thing, before finally slipping under the covers. “Finn? Where are—”
He appears toward the middle of the bed. So about fifty feet away. “Come on, don’t be shy.” He stretches out and taps another button.
The dim lights fade to nothing until it’s pitch black. “Dark,” I murmur.
“How about this?” Another button tap and a soft murmur groans in the roof as a skylight opens up, revealing thick glass staring up at the beautiful night sky.
I blink at the moon and the stars in total shock.
It’s beautiful. Obscenely expensive, but beautiful in a way I never pictured. It’s like the stars are right there, barely ten feet away as I lie against pillows softer than sunlight. I reach a hand out like I could pluck the moon from the ceiling as something rustles to my left.
“Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I look at the stars.” Finn presses his side against mine, his sudden touch like a comet streaking through the clear night.
“I never took you as the type to stare up at the stars.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. For whatever reason, thinking about how far away they are, how much nothing is out there, it calms me down.”
I make a face. “That’s honestly insane. Most people feel tiny and insignificant.”
“But that’s what I like.”
I turn to look at the set of his jaw, at his defined features, his handsome lips and nose. He’s staring straight up, straight at the stars, and I’m tempted to reach out and touch his cheek, but I keep my hands to myself. I’m not going to instigate things if I can avoid it.
“Why do you like it?” I press, unable to help myself.
He tilts his head, looking at me. “I’m a Crowley,” he says, as if that explains anything. “My whole life, I’ve been told how important I am. How important my family is. Sometimes, I want to look at the stars and realize how small everything is, how insignificant compared to all that, and it helps shut my brain down for a while.”
“Can I be honest with you?”
He inclines his head. “Please. You’re my wife now.”
“It’s hard for me to imagine you feeling stressed. I mean, obviously I believe it, but you haveso much. All this money, all this comfort, it’s like… I grew up with nothing. If I had this? If my parents did?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I understand what you’re saying, but it isn’t the wealth that makes my life complicated. It’s my family, it’s what’s expected of me. I understand that might be hard to accept.”
“No, it’s not, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest your problems aren’t real or valid.” I chew my lip, cursing at myself. I shouldn’t have said that—he was opening up and I stomped all over him. I reach out on impulse, touching his chest. “I want to hear more.”
He looks at me, eyes grazing down to my lips, before he takes my hand—and pulls me close against him. I let out a surprised breath as I end up with an arm over his chest, my cheek against his collarbone, and his other hand in my hair, gently pulling my chin back until my lips are inches from his.
“You’ll understand soon, love,” he whispers, voice a husky rasp. “I do have a lot, but there’s also a lot counting on me, and sometimes I wish I could just be a regular man, free to make my own choices.”
“What would you choose, if you could?” My heart’s racing, fast enough to match his own pace. I feel his pulse pounding underneath me.
“I’d choose you,” he says, mouth coming toward mine. “I’d choose to have something that feels good for once in my life.”
“Didn’t you already?” I blink rapidly, head a dizzy mess of anticipation.
