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“A warning. I avoid having sex with drunk women whenever I can.”

“And why is that?”

“Several reasons. Alcohol often muffles sensations, including pleasure. When drunk, you may not feel things as acutely as I wish for you to feel them. If you pass out and don’t remember in the morning the pleasure you had at night, then what’s the point of it all? But most importantly, people often see things differently when they’re drunk than when they’re sober. What you think you want while you’re intoxicated may be something you’ll loath the next day.”

“Or maybe I’ll justthinkI should loath it?” I challenged. “Alcohol lowers our inhibitions and lets us finally have what we crave.”

He raised his hand, as if to caress my face, but then dropped it without touching me.

“Either way,” he said softly, “I don’t want you to forget or regret a single moment spent with me.”

Staying away from him grew unbearable. I stepped closer, resting a hand on his chest.

“How could I ever regretyou?”

I should tell him this was our last night, but just thinking about that hurt. I should tell him that the Queen of Rorrim was personally pursuing a full buy-out of his contract, but I feared he’d think I fished for his gratitude. I didn’t wish to bring the business of the day into our one last night together.

All I wanted was for him to kiss me again.

I rose to my tiptoes, lifting my face to his, and he took what I offered. His mouth claimed mine. His arms wrapped me into a tight hug. His body pressed against me.

I was exactly where I wished to be.

With a soft groan, he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. I tangled my fingers in his hair, perfectly content to stay like that for the rest of the night if he so wished or for the rest of my life if Goddess let me.

Sadly, he unwrapped his arms from around me. With a long breath in, he stepped away, then grabbed a teacup from the table and a wine glass from the small curio cabinet in the corner.

“You want me to drink from a glass like a lady?” I smiled.

“No.” He handed me the cup of tea. “This is all you’ll drink for the rest of the night.”

“Just tea?”

“Like I said, nothing will happen if you’re drunk.”

“But I’m not drunk.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” He tapped a finger against my teacup to emphasize his point. “We have unfinished business, Princess, and I really hope we’ll do more than just kissing before the sun is up.”

I brought the cup to my mouth and took a sip of tea to mask a shiver of apprehension... or was it anticipation that ran through my body? “Who is the glass for, then?”

“The glass is for me.”

He placed it on the stand, then took a linen napkin from the tea tray, folded it, and wrapped it around the neck of the bottle before pouring the wine with an elegant flip at his wrist.

“You’ve done this before,” I said, watching him.

“Once or twice,” he admitted before lifting the glass. “To you, Your Highness.”

“To our three-night stand,” I added.

He shrugged. “As good a toast as any.”

Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a long breath in, inhaling the aroma of the wine, then closed his eyes while taking a drink. He savored the scent and the taste like someone who knew how to appreciate both.

Salas served tea and poured wine with the skill that, I’d bet my crown, he didn’t acquire while carrying bricks.

The royal palace served fine, expensive wine, and Salas appeared to enjoy it. I waited for him to drink more, to empty his glass, and to refill it after. But he set it down on the stand after just one sip and moved away, seemingly uninterested.