Page 76 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Dorian laughs, pulling away. He kneels at the foot of the bed. “You’ve been drinking,” he reminds her, which, yes, she has, but she felt sober enough when he started kissing her. “And you’ve been through a shock. You may not be thinking clearly. I don’t… I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”
There’s a certain sense to his words, but Selene doesn’t want to give them weight. In this moment, she’s never been more certain of anything.
Will that change, in the morning?
But then there’s the other thing, the thing he isn’t saying, probably because he doesn’t want to offend her. If they do this, they can’t go back. They will behusband and wifefor real.
But what if that’s what I want?Selene wonders.
She looks at Dorian, kneeling so close to her, all soft sweetness.
What if it’s not about what she wants? What if it’s about Dorian, not wanting to be shackled to a woman he didn’t choose?
She’s still not forgotten the name he whispered in the dark.
He only kissed her to stop her from crying. She was the one who kissed back. Perhaps he’s just lonely and frightened too, desperate for someone—anyone—to hold onto in the dark.
“Right,” she says finally.
Dorian climbs to his feet and moves towards the chair by the window. Selene grips his sleeve before he can move too far away.
“Stay,” she whispers. Her fingers tighten around his sleeve. “Sleep here. With me. Just… just next to each other. Just for tonight.”
She isn’t sure what compels her to ask. Maybe it’s the fear still curling in her chest, the lingering weight of almost losing him. Maybe it’s the way his arms felt around her just now—steady, warm, safe. Whatever it is, she doesn’t want him to leave her side tonight.
Dorian blinks, caught off guard. “Selene, I—”
“Please.”
For a moment, Dorian simply studies her. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nods.
“All right.”
He hesitates only briefly before moving towards the bed. Selene releases his sleeve, stepping back to give him space, and she climbs in first, shifting over to make room.
Dorian sits on the edge removing his boots and glasses, then lowers himself onto the mattress, lying on his back with a careful exhale. There’s still a small space between them,and he makes no move to close it. His warmth invades the gap between them.
The room is quiet but for their breathing, and slowly, slowly, the tightness in her chest begins to ease.
“Goodnight, Selene,” Dorian murmurs.
She closes her eyes. “Goodnight, Dorian.”
When Selene stirs the next morning, she finds herself lying against Dorian’s chest. One arm is curled around her, his hand in her hair. The other one—his injured one—lies across her hip. Their legs are tangled together.
For a moment, Selene doesn’t move. She likes this far too much. She doesn’t want it to shatter. She doesn’t want to wake him and have him pull away. She stays where she is, inhaling his warmth, basking in the smell of his skin, the feel of his flesh so close to hers.
Eventually, though, she grows uncomfortable. She inches back, propping herself up on the pillows, careful not to disturb him. She watches his chest rise and fall, his dark lashes fanned against his pale, freckled cheeks. Strands of his copper hair have come loose from his ponytail in the night,framing his face. He looks different this way, like a painting. Has he always been this attractive?
How many times had the Duke stayed the night with her? Usually, he’d come to her chambers, enjoy his marital pleasures, and leave again almost as soon as he was finished. Sometimes he’d stay, if he was tired. Sometimes he’d stay and they’d talk and drink together.
He was almost always gone by morning.
Sometimes, she feels more married to Dorian than she ever felt married to the Duke.
Her mind wanders back to the frenzied kisses they’d shared the night before. They didn’t mean nothing to her now. She definitely doesn’t regret them. Yes, she’d been sad and confused, and maybe he had to, but… the kissing was the only part that made sense to her.
She watches his sleeping mouth.If I kissed him now, would he welcome it?
