Page 45 of Peasants and Kings
“Do I want more?” he asked, picking up the thread of my question. “Aye, Eden. I want more. I want more than you’re willing to give—but I said I wouldn’t press you to do anything you didn’t want to do.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t. Christ, you’re only twenty-five years old.”
“What does age have to do with anything?” I demanded.
“A lot. I’m twelve years older than you are. Your life is just getting started and you don’t even realize it yet.”
“And you’ve got one foot in the grave?” I frowned. “I still don’t get what you’re saying to me, Hadrian.”
He shifted so that he was standing right in front of me. He took my hand and placed it on his fly. “This is what you do to me when you say my name and look at me with those wide, innocent eyes.”
“I’m not innocent,” I protested. “And frankly, I’m offended that you think I am.”
He let out a rumbly laugh. “So you’re pissed that I’m calling you innocent? Would you rather I call you something else?”
I yanked my hand away from him, anger in my cheeks. “What is all this? Are you feeling a stab of guilt because you bought a woman for the night?”
“I have no guilt over that, believe me. And for the sake of honesty, you should know I didn’t have plans to procure a Rex girl this evening.”
“Procure?” I shook my head. “So I was an impulse purchase?”
“Is that how you view yourself? As something to buy?”
“It doesn’t matter how I view myself. It only matters that you want me.”
“I disagree. It matters very much how you view yourself. Because if you were honest about it, then maybe you’d be honest about how you feel about what’s happening between us tonight.”
Oh, I wanted Hadrian Rhys. And I wanted in him in a way that I’d never wanted anything in my life. I wanted to feel his raw, unrestrained power as he thrust inside me. I wanted him so deep that I’d be sore in the morning.
But I also wanted to remain aloof, detached—and Hadrian was doing everything in his power to make this something it wasn’t. He wanted us connected in a way that wasn’t allowed, and I remembered what Gen had told me; these men were alpha males who thrived on the chase.
Hadrian was pushing for more than I wanted to give, and it was hard to resist.
Entangled. That’s what we were becoming.
If I’d chosen another man tonight, he would have been different. He would’ve wanted the fantasy and sexual satisfaction. I doubted he would’ve cared to spend any time discussing anything else.
Maybe that was my mistake, choosing a man I already desired. I thought it would’ve been safer, but there was no going back, and I refused to be a coward.
I reached up to the pins in my hair and I tugged them free so that my dark locks fell in large waves across my shoulders. And with my gaze trained on his, I removed my dress, letting it drop to the floor. I stood in front of him in nothing more than crystal beaded ballet slippers and French lace undergarments with garters.
He took a long time staring at me, his gaze slowly traveling from the top of my head down to my feet.
Hadrian was bare-chested, muscled arms by his sides with his fists clenched.
I approached him slowly and when I was standing in front of him, I grazed my fingers across the fair skin of his chest.
“Do you ever see the sun?” I asked, my breath teasing his flesh.
His muscles bunched beneath my fingers and I flattened my palm, wondering if I could absorb his power by mere touch.
“I’m from Shetland.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’m descended from Vikings and Celts,” he explained. “I’m fair skinned by nature.”
