Page 82 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“I-“ My voice broke off as another tremor tightened my insides. I wanted more, but I wasn’t sure Icould.My limbs were buzzing. Electricity hummed through my nervous system, making me quiver from my lips to my toes.

“Come here,” Victor whispered, gentle hands helping me up until he was cradling me in his lap. Half my braid had come loose, and he carefully brushed the wayward strands from my face. “What do you need right now?”

“I just.” I grimaced at my hoarse voice scratching up my throat. “Water.”

He leaned back and grabbed my glittering tumbler from my bedside table, giving it a small shake to ensure it wasn’t empty before he brought the straw up to my lips.

Greedily gulping down the cold relief, I let my eyes fall shut and my head drop against his shoulder. He lay his lips against the top of my head, whispering something unintelligible in Russian.

“What does that mean?” I mumbled.

“It’s the text of a lullaby.”

“Oh right, you were trying to tire me out. Good effort.” I smiled into the side of his neck, barely even able to keep my eyes open.

He chuckled and placed the tumbler back on the bedside table. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” I thought for a second, “I need your shirt.”

“My shirt? This shirt?”

“Yeah.”

He started peeling the fabric off his back and I leaned back just long enough for him to undress. When he handed the bundled up shirt to me, I tossed it aside and wrapped my arms around his bare torso instead.

“Perfect,” I sighed, letting his warmth and his scent close around me.

“Perfect,” he agreed and kissed my forehead.

Victor slid down the mattress again, until we were lying down, my head still resting on his shoulder. He kept one hand wrapped around the nape of my neck while the other drew languid patterns on my thigh.

Despite my body feeling warm and heavy, sleep was impossible. My adrenaline may have been pumping earlier but now my hormones kept my thoughts whirring. Hormones andthe unmistakable hard outline pressed against the inside of my thigh. Because I didn’t mind. I loved that making me come had gotten him hard. I wanted to feel him again, touch him, see him fall apart. But all of this only had one possible destination - and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for it yet. This was the kind of thing you were supposed to be able to ask your mom about. I’d never even gottenThe Talk- having gotten my sex ed from the internet, and it hadn’t bothered me until right this second.

I huffed and traced my fingertip over the feather tattoo on his shoulder, desperate for any distraction. “Do all of your tattoos have meanings?” I asked.

“Mh-mm, no.”

I tried to do the math of how long it took to have a tattoo needled into you and how long it took to heal - how many hours he had spent in tattoo studios over the years. “Do you know how many there are?” My finger sloped down his side to where a snake slithered down his ribcage.

“No,” he whispered against my hair.

“Do you have a favorite?”

“You pick.”

“You want me to pick your favorite tattoo for you?” I giggled. “That makes no sense.”

“Whatever you pick.”

“I’m trying to get to know you. Stop trying to be romantic.” I pushed myself up until I straddled his hips and looked down at his sharply sculpted face, not a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, stop moving.” Victor inhaled audibly, hands wrapping around my bare hips and digging in hard enough to keep me locked in position. “Look, Cordelia, I had one tattoo with a meaning. Got it covered up.”

“Why?”

“It was my first tattoo. I had it done after my parents died. Then I realized how stupid it was to wear my grief on my skin for everyone to see.”

“I’m sorry,” I swallowed, “so did you get the others for the aesthetic? To look menacing in the ring?” My fingertips brushed down the storm of clouds and lightning on his stomach, his abs tightening under my touch.

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