Page 128 of Cruel Romeo

He takes my hand tenderly and leads me from the tangled sheets to the bathroom. As we walk, his fingers trace the heartlines on my palm. My heart skips, then tumbles. Nerves buzz under my skin. Because even something as simple as this feels loaded with meaning now, and I don’t feel ready to unpack that.

“Do I stink that bad?” I try to joke, but it comes out weak, brittle. The knot in my throat is obvious.

“Never.” He leans in, a slight curve to his lips. He buries his face into my neck and inhales. “I love the way you smell.”

Love.I shiver. That’s not a word I’ve ever heard Petyr speak. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d speak it lightly. Not in any context.

It’s not a diamond ring, but I guess we’re way past that already.

As I try desperately hard to keep my mind from galloping ahead into a fantasy world whereI love your smellmeansI love you,Petyr turns on the spray.

The room fills with steam in an instant, courtesy of Billionaire’s Row’s luxury pipes. I never considered that Cinderella might have ever felt out of place in the prince’s tub, but I sure am thinking it now. Is there protocol for this situation? Do women of high-enough caliber to sleep with men like Petyr shower in particular ways? What egregious, unsexy faux pas am I currently committing? Am I?—

“You’re thinking,” he accuses with a grin.

I blush, caught in the act. “Is that a turnoff?”

“If I wasn’t attracted to your mind, we’d never be here to begin with.” He pulls me beneath the spray. The water spills over us. “But I don’t think you should be doing that right now.”

“Right. Not good for the baby. Eating up all that glucose with my silly little brain.”

He brushes a wet lock behind my ear. “What I’m talking about has nothing to do with the baby.”

I know that. I know it’s not the baby he’s thinking about. I know I’m doing what Jemma calls“deflecting via Tumblr jokes”because I’m terrified my heart won’t be able to take the sheer emotion of this moment if I put my full attention on it.

His lips linger at the corner of mine. I exhale softly. “Right.”

Then I let him kiss me, and all the thoughts melt away.

Petyr starts off slow. His hands linger everywhere as he lathers me with body wash. Reverent, as if cleaning me up is as intimate as having sex with me. And maybe, to him, it is.

He works shampoo into my hair. His fingertips massage slow circles into my scalp until my eyes flutter closed. I lean into his touch without meaning to.

When he rinses me, his palms drift lower. Over my shoulders, across my breasts. He starts thumbing at my nipples, all sore and tender.

I let out a soft moan. “Petyr…”

“I was thinking that they looked bigger.” He flicks them with his tongue, sucks them lightly in his mouth in turns. “Now, I know why.”

I clutch his shoulders for balance, too sensitive to take even this much. “Please,” I whisper, though I’m not sure what I’m even asking for.

But Petyr seems to know, because his hands keep trailing lower. Down my sides, around the swell of my hips. He is so hungry for every inch of me, and every touch reminds me of that.

I shouldn’t be switching off my brain like this. Instead, I should be thinking about the thousands of landmines we’re walking on.

My secrets. My father and brother. A pregnancy that’s bound to make a lot of very dangerous people very upset if they ever found out which two family trees it was merging. The fact that nothing about us makes sense, because we’re the last two people on Earth who should have ever fallen for each other.

But all I can do is disintegrate under his touch.

He tilts my chin up and kisses me again. This time, it’shungrier. He pours all his desire into me, like he needs me to feel it. To feel him everywhere.

My knees go weak, but Petyr catches me.

Before I can realize what’s happening, my back hits the wall. The cold tile shocks a gasp from me.

He lifts me effortlessly, like I weigh nothing. I cling to him, wrap my legs tight around his waist, loop my arms over his shoulders.

“Blyat’.” He slips a hand between our bodies. Sinks two fingers into me without encountering a fraction of resistance. “So fucking wet.”