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With that lazy pose, those eyes smudged in black, and the tousled clothing, this male looked untidy yet impeccable, casual and sensual all at once. He stood there like a misstep waiting to happen, like a compulsion I could get used to.
My breath hitched, suspended on a precipice. That’s how it felt to be near him—unsteady and unpredictable. If I lost my balance, the fall would be steep, and the landing would hurt.
As I’d learned the previous evening, Quiet Poet made an Inconceivable Poet. His slanted head and silent expression asked,What are you thinking about?
I hoped mine said,Anything but you.
I hadn’t lied to Jinny. A social and political chasm existed between him and me.
But I did lie to her. Stripped of finery, we could have been commoners, a man and woman free of hierarchy and laws. I wanted to draft a contract with myself, to stop my impressions of him from getting worse. Because after last night, they could only get worse.
The memory of us in the kitchen.
Scarcely dressed and staring.
His body, hard and hot.
My body, wet for him.
In the dark, so close.
Nothing had happened. But because of that, it felt as if everything had happened.
Shivers vibrated up my spine. Remorse trailed in its wake, pinching my vertebrae back into place.
If Poet was thinking about that moment in the kitchen, he didn’t show it. Rather, he cocked his head. “Am I interrupting?”
I flipped my skirt over my bare calves. “Is that ever a concern for you?”
His mouth tilted, giving me the answer.
To combat the awkwardness, I stood and tossed the pebble I’d been holding into the stream. It skipped across the surface and plunged, drops of water spraying the air. I snatched more pebbles and whisked them against the ripples, then watched as they bounced and splashed like shards of glass.
It had been forever since I’d idled in a forest. Especially in this one.
On a whim, I tilted my head and held out a palm full of pebbles. “Afraid to test your skills against a Royal?”
Poet tamped down his surprise. “You make me sound like a pompous prick.”
“Rest assured, you’ve earned that reputation on your own.”
“If we indulge any further, I might corrupt you.”
My words flitted out, as light as air. “You sought me, not the other way around. And I’m the one issuing a challenge.”
“Hmm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were toying with me,” Poet observed. “Who are you, and what you have done with the Autumn Princess?”
“She’s here, about to beat you with relish.”
Those mischievous lips tipped to the side. He studied me for far too long, so long that I felt his attention like a private caress.
At last, Poet straightened from the tree and moved toward me. He took a pebble from my hand, our fingers sweeping against one another and causing that forsaken place inside me to liquify further.
I squared my shoulders.
After a pause and another penetrating glance, Poet flicked the stone above his head, and caught it behind his back with the opposite hand. “Beat me, you say? Perish the thought,” he said, then casually flicked the rock.
We watched as it vaulted forward and plunked into the steam with a dismal thud.
