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He doesn’t want to push a boundary. He’s asking to honor it. It’s a line in the sand he’s offering me the power to draw.
I move in closer. “I want this.”
His grip on my waist tightens. Possessive almost. Like now that I’ve said yes, he’s done holding back.
We dance in silence. It doesn’t demand to be filled, but as one song bleeds into the next, the more aware of him I am.
Of how my body fits against his.
Of his scent that makes thinking hard.
Of his hand on my back.
His closeness.
The longer we dance, the harder it is to breathe evenly.
And the more my thoughts tangle.
Especially when he doesn’t say anything.
When he just holds me. Like none of this is dangerous.
By the time he speaks, my pulse is a riot and I’m half-convinced he can feel it.
His head tilts slightly as he murmurs, low and dry, “Your mom’s giving off strong royal court energy right now. Pretty sure she’s currently judging whether I’m worthy to be here with her daughter.”
It’s so unexpected, so perfectly timed, that it cracks the tension just enough for me to laugh. Not just because it’s funny. But because it’s so him. And that thought right there is something I know I’ll interrogate later.
I now know Gage well enough to know one of his signature moves. He breaks tension, not to escape it, but to hold space for it.
“Careful,” I warn with a smile. “She hears everything. You’re one insult away from being exiled from the kingdom.”
“It’d be worth it,” he says, voice lower now, “just for that laugh you gave me.”
What are we doing?
My hand slides a fraction higher at the nape of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. Just a little. Just enough to pretend it’s nothing. But the flare in his eyes tells me I’m lying to myself.
“You say that now,” I murmur as every other sound in this room fades away, “but you haven’t seen her silent treatment. It’s like winter in Siberia.”
“I can handle the cold.”
I let my fingers drift down, slow and idle, like my touch doesn’t have a motive. Like it’s not driving both of us mad.
“You don’t scare easy, do you?”
His voice is all gravel and intent when he says, “Not when I want something.”
There’s no air left between us. Only heat.
And I amthiscloseto unraveling.
Gage is watching me closely. He’s made his move and is now letting me decide what to do with it.
And that’s the problem.
Idon’t knowwhat to do with it.