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“Don’t turn around for any reason,” I tell him.
“Unless you’re in trouble. You have my word,” and he sounds so damn formal that it breaks my heart.
I start to undress. “You know… I don’t mind your scar.”
He says nothing, but his back bows as if I’d stuck him, and I hate that I’ve hurt the man. He comes across as so crash and unfeeling sometimes that I forget that I can hurt him. I forget that he thinks I’m his mate, so my approval means a lot to him.
Then, I decide to do something that doesn’t come easily to me. I decide to be honest. “I actually kind of like your scar. Most of the fae are so pretty and perfect. It gets old, you know? But you, you stand out wherever you go, in a good way.” I hesitate. “I have a scar, too. Well, several, but a pretty decent one on my thigh from a fae who kicked me with a steel-toed boot. It’s probably not super pretty, but I bet you wouldn’t mind it.”
He’s quiet for a minute, then his voice comes, filled with humor. “I’ve shown you mine…”
I laugh. “Maybe someday you’ll see it. If you play your cards right.”
He groans. “I guess I have to get better with cards real quick.”
I can’t help but grin.
There’s silence for a half a second before he says, “you’ll have to share who that boot belonged to, so I can bring you their leg.” And he sounds sincere.
The notion is oddly sweet, which probably makes me insane. “Now, what would I do with a leg?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Anything you want. Maybe kick it a few times for good measure?” Since when did Prince Forrest have a sense of humor? I like it. Maybe I even likehim.
Dropping my clothes in a pile on the ground, a strange idea leaps into my head and won’t leave. “You promised not to turn around unless I’m hurt, no matter what. Is that a real promise?”
He sounds offended. “You know as well as I do that a fae’s word is law. We can’t break our word.”
That’s what I thought. I walk up to him, crunching through the leaves. Hesitating behind him, I reach out and run a hand along his back. He shivers, but doesn’t turn around.
I feel naughty, standing behind him naked. Knowing that no matter how much I tempt him, he can’t do a thing about it. And, strangely, it also makes me feel a little powerful. Ever since I lost my job and was thrown out of the castle, I’ve felt like things were happeningtome. It’s nice to have a little control.
Not that I’m going to take it too far. Right? I shouldn’t.
I continue running my hand up and down his back. “Thanks for saving me.”
“It was my duty,” he hesitates, “but you can thank me anyway you like.”
Moving closer, I press myself against him from behind, and his whole body shakes with his rushed breaths. I slide my hand around him, letting it lie on his very flat, very muscular belly.
“I’ll have to think of a good way to thank you,” and my voice comes out low and husky.
The pictures in my mind are dirty. Pictures of me sliding my hand into his pants and pumping him faster and faster until I make him come right here. I’d enjoy it. He’d enjoy it.What would be the harm?
The man’s handsome enough, and tempting enough, that I give the thought way too much of my attention… letting my hand slide just a little lower on his belly. But then I remember that this is about more than a hot man that I feel a strange connection to. If I do this, it’ll be damn hard to keep telling him no to becoming his wife, and I don’t know what I want right now.
As tough as he seems, I can’t hurt him more.
Pulling away, I hear the rush of air that leaves his lips, then I go to the river, missing his warmth. The big man can be an ass. He can treat me like a piece of meat, but I like him today. Thatdoesn’tmean the man I see today is the real man.
“I’m here, anytime you need me,” he says, and his voice is deep, filled with need.
My nipples harden, and I sink into the water, telling myself it’s because of the cold. Still, I stay in the water longer than I need to, scrubbing the blood and dirt from my body and my hair, scrubbing until I almost feel like I can scrub away the last couple weeks of my life, but the results of my choices stands right in front of me.
When I’m done, I stand and dry the best I can before slipping into the clothes Sulien gave me. The white shirt is so long that it could be a dress, and the front dips low with ties that I try to close the best I can, but peeks of my skin show through, no matter how hard I try. I put on his pants, but there’s no way. I think I could use something to tie the side, but I don’t have anything right now, so I take the pants off and then stuff my feet into my boots, leaving behind my smelly clothes.
“Okay.” I move around Forrest until I’m standing in front of him. “I’m ready to go.”
His eyes widen as his gaze runs over me head-to-toe.
