Page 44 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
A hiss staggers in through his lips. “Birdie, you’re...” The rest is garbled, but it sounds like a curse.
He abruptly lifts his eyes to the ceiling and presses a fist to his mouth. The other cups his groin, which looks...larger than it did a moment ago.
I furrow my brow, then glance down at myself and?—
Oh.
The rain has transformed the thin silk of my nightgown to diaphanous gauze. The soaked fabric does nothing to hide the hard pink peaks of my nipples, or the dark patch nestled at the juncture of my thighs. The gown molds to my every curve while my hair trails over my shoulders in snaking rivers.
Weston wedges a curled forefinger between his teeth. He bites down and studies the ceiling like it holds the secrets toall existence. “You need to put something on. Something that’s...not that.”
I sweep my gaze down the length of him, lingering on the swell in his shorts. I can’t tell if he’s shielding or gripping himself, but whatever he’s doing, it drives the potent throb in my belly deeper.
That reaction is for me. Because ofme.
Bold as brass.
“No,” I say.
He jerks his gaze down to mine. Once there, he can’t seem to help himself. His eyes drift lower, then lower still, lingering on every dip and swell.
It’s like being painted with fire. I let my hands hang loose at my sides, my fingers flexing inside his saturated gloves. I’m so cold, yet I’m burning up. Being incinerated from the inside out by the heated weight of his stare.
“This is warfare,” he says through a dry, cracked throat. “Youhaveto put clothes on.”
I raise my chin. “No. I...like you looking at me.”
Shadows pile into his eyes. “Fortuna, you’re going to keep at this, aren’t you? Until you win. Until you break me.”
Agreement flies to the tip of my tongue, but I bite down. This isn’t fair. I know that. And I promised myself that if we ever did this—truly did this—it would be his choice.
Which I’ll hold myself to. Iwill.
But that doesn’t mean I can ignore the ravenous throb between my thighs.
“I won’t ask you to touch me again,” I say, feeling my way through what I’m trying to communicate. “I’ll promise you, even.Ifyou can promise me something in return.”
A swallow grinds down his throat. I canfeelthe difficultyhe has keeping his eyes on mine. His struggle boils in the air. “What’s that?”
“Stop walking away from me,” I say. “Stop leaving. I hate it, and I don’t want you to do it ever again. I don’t care if we fight. If we...disagree. But from now on, I want you to stay and talk to me about it. I’ll stop asking you to touch me, if you’ll just stop leaving.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. The fire’s crackle swells to fill the silence. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he grapples with himself.
But Helena was right. He’s teetering, I can see it. Part of him wants to give in. Another part still believes he’s no good for me. That I’m better off without him.
He just needs a push. Or maybe a good, hard shove.
“Please.” I pour every ounce of myself into the word, until it’s more than merely heartful. It’s a confession. “I’ve hated being away from you these past weeks. I’m no good at it. At not having you in my life.”
His face is unreadable, but his dangling hand clenches at his side. After a long moment, he says, “It’s not exactly my forte, either. I almost came back. So many times, I almost came back.”
Something bright and sweet flickers in my chest. It takes me a moment to place it, but when I do, I yield to a shaky smile. Hope. “Then do. For the love of Fortuna, stop staying away from me.”
Long moments crawl by, the tension thickening with each passing second. Just when I think he’s going to bolt again, he expels a shuddering breath. “I can only do that if you stop asking me to touch you. To kiss you. Because it’s torture,Birdie. You don’t understand what it does to me. How cruel you’re being when you ask.”
My breath catches. I…hadn’t thought of it that way. “I won’t, then. Not ever again.”
A beat passes. “Is that a promise?”
