Page 131 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Not happening. I know this house like the back of my hand.”

Next time I blinked, I was in bed with Victor’s body curved around my back and Fitzwilliam curled up against my front. Dim sunlight turned the whole room pink, and I didn’t know if it was sunrise or sunset.

I blinked again, and sat up straight because the bed was empty. The spike in my pulse only shallowed out immediately because the bathroom door stood slightly ajar and the shower was running. Victor wasn’t gone. He was just in the next room.

My whole body was tingly and stiff, and my tongue felt like sandpaper. Judging by the bright daylight outside, I’d been in bed for at least 24 hours. I grabbed the glitter tumbler from my nightstand and let out a relieved sigh when ice cold water hit my tongue - not stale water from a week ago. Victor had refilled it on the off chance I’d wake up thirsty.

Straw still between my lips, I climbed out of bed and forced my creaky wooden limbs to get me to the bathroom. Just in time to see Victor get out of the shower with a towel slung around his hips, droplets of water still running down his sculpted pecs and clinging to the sharply cut arrow muscles above his hip bones. His hair had been buzzed short in the hospital, so when he ran his hand through it now, a thin mist sprayed around him. The sight made me forget that I was drinking, and I choked on the next sip of water.

Victor raised his brows at me, the smallest of grins tugging on his lips.

“I was just…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, be quiet,” I grumbled, heat rushing to my cheeks, “I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Come here.” Victor leaned against the counter, all glistening skin and green eyes, and my legs moved on their own accord. I had absolutely no say in the matter. He freed the cup from my grasp and set it down before his hands pulled my face to his. “Good morning.”

“Hi,” I whispered.

Victor kissed me without caution or hesitation. His lips and tongue and teeth claimed me and I barely had the air to gasp. My lungs filled with air that was his, and my mouth flooded with his taste. And I kissed him back. I pulled at his waist and I bit his lip, because he washere, and he was alive, and I was never letting him go again, and I was never going to get enough of him.

“I’m keeping you,” I rasped, breathless.

“I’m yours to keep,” he replied.

Our mouths crashed into each other again, and then I was walking backwards. Victor led us out of the bathroom and toward the bed without ever coming up for air. His hands slipped up my shirt, strong fingers folding around my waist, and I froze. Victor’s grasp immediately loosened.

“I’m still in airplane clothes,” I muttered against hist lips, “airplane underwear, airplane leggings. I’ve been wearing these for two days.”

“I’m trying to get you out of them.”

“I’m probably all sweaty.”

No wonder he’d taken a shower. I should have been taking a shower. The airplane was one thing, but the hospital hadn’t exactly been a spa holiday either. I hadn’t even brought a razor to France.

“Lift your arms.”

“I’m hairy.”

“Lift your fucking arms, Cordelia.”

The gruff note in his words sent a warm shiver down my spine. I complied, and Victor pulled my shirt and bralette top off in one move. I expected him to keep kissing me and touching me, but he paused with my clothes in his fists. His gaze roamed down my torso, brows quivering. Any worries about my clothes or my shaving routines evaporated because Victor looked at me and his eyes couldn’t focus.

“Here,” I whispered and reached for his hand. He let me direct his fingers to my chest until they brushed over my nipple. My breath trembled as I moved his touch down the dip of my sternum to my other breast.

“It just looks different.”

“I know.”

“Lie down.” The command lacked some of the strength from before, but I still sank back onto the bed, propped up on my elbows, knees dangling off the side.

Victor dipped his fingers into my waistband and pulled off my leggings and panties, kissing each ankle before letting them sink down again. As he stood between my legs, and let his eyes travel up and down my body, the nervous tension trickled from his face. Others might have thought he was apathetic. They just didn’t know him well enough to read the little sideways tilt of his chin or the crinkle in the corner of his left eye. Nothing compared to being looked at like that. He was stealing my breath without even touching me.

“I love you,” I said and watched the corner of his mouth twitch ever so slightly.

“We’ll have to do something about that.”

---