Page 48 of Cruel Juliet

I carry the last of my things into the ensuite bathroom. The counter is wide and bare, only his razor and cologne marking space.

I set my toiletries down, one by one, arrange them like they belong here. My toothbrush beside his. My lotion next to his aftershave. It feels too deliberate, too intimate, but I do it anyway.

“I’m going to take a shower. I need to be alone for a while.”

When he doesn’t object, I shut the door.

The shower knobs squeak when I turn them. Water rushes out and steam fills the room.

I test the spray with my palm and wait for it to cool a little. My hand lingers there longer than it needs to. The noise of the water fills the silence I don’t want to sit in.

I start to undress, fingers on the first button of my blouse, when a knock sounds at the door.

I freeze. The water keeps running.

Another knock, heavier this time. I swallow, heart faster.

I pull the door open a few inches. Petyr stands there, one hand braced against the frame. His eyes are fixed on me, steady, unyielding.

“What is it?” I ask. My voice comes out low—not sharp, but wary.

“I want you,” he says.

What?

The words make the air shift between us. Petyr was never one to mince words, but I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting his next unminced words to be these.

I want you.

I. Want. You.

Heat rises to my face. My throat feels tight. Petyr and I, have sex? Now?

It would be crazy. Batshit fucking insane.

It’s the most stupid, reckless, dangerous idea I can think of.

There are too many unresolved matters between us. The fact that he doesn’t trust me. How distant he’s been from me since he dragged me back into his fold. The confusion that fills me every time his mood swings from one extreme to the other.

I can’t ignore how he treated me. Ican’t.

But I can’t deny what I feel, either.

I want him, too. I’ve wanted him for longer than I can admit.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmur, though my hand stays on the door instead of closing it. The hesitation in my voice betrays me.

I look at him, at the line of his shoulders. His eyes are dark with want, and I hate how quickly my body reacts to that.

I should be smart about this.Rationally, I know that. But the thought of stepping back and ending this moment makes my chest ache.

I let out a slow breath, then open the door wider.

He steps inside, shuts it behind him without a sound.

I have to tell him to stop.This will only make everything worse, and we both know it.

But I don’t.