Page 47 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Good. It’s fine.” She was still twirling her hair around her fingers, clearly trying to sort through her thoughts. “Are you sexually frustrated?”

I raised my brows, somehow doubting this was her way of flirting with me.

“Do you spend this much time working out because it’s some sort of physical release?”

“No.” I’d have to tell her the truth soon. Keeping it from her felt like keeping her in a separate and safe space though, so I stayed vague with my answer. “It’s best to be in good shape when working for my uncle.”

“I knew it,” she muttered as if she’d just won an argument.

“Areyousexually frustrated? Is that why you kissed me?”

“No. I kissed you because I want you. Not in anI want you - I need you - oh my god -kind of way. I mean, maybe that too at some point. I just want you in my life, for the rest of my life preferably.”

“I never considered any other future.” I let my hands slide up her warm legs, leaving watery trails from her knees up her thighs. Her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted when my thumbs dipped to the inside of her thighs. Fuck, I wanted to tease all these tiny reactions from her one by one. “Driver. Bodyguard. Husband. However you want me, Cordelia, I’m yours until the day they put me six feet under.”

“I need you to stop touching me.” A deep breath rattled through her lungs and her eyes flew open. A storm raged in her blue irises. “Please.”

Without another word, I let my hands fall back to the edge of the pool. Cordelia squirmed and pressed her legs together.

“I can give you time,” she pressed the words through tight lips, “I can wait for you to make sure your family won’t bother us. Just don’t make this harder for me by reminding me what I can’t have yet. Please.”

“I’m sorry.” The anguish in her voice was a punch to the gut. I never wanted to be the cause of her pain.

“Yeah.” She reached out but her hand froze halfway to my face. It took every drop of willpower in me, not to lean into her. After a moment’s hesitation, she got to her feet. “Can you be home for a whole day next week?”

“Of course,” I said. I’d deal with whatever Petya would want in exchange. Cordelia remained my first priority.

“Just let me know when’s good for you. Silas Whitaker needs to come over to set up a few things for filming, and I don’t want to be in the house when he does.”

“Whitaker?”

She rolled her shoulders back and nodded. “Not holding myself back. I’m taking a risk.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to save you some cake?”

“Cake?” For once, I couldn’t quite fathom the five thoughts she jumped ahead.

“We’re taste testing wedding cake options. Sorry, I should have told you. Del, Tabitha and Defne are all here.” She pointed at the ceiling as if all that separated us from her friends were a few inches of concrete.

“You can tell them that you’re saving it for me and eat it for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Perfect.” Cordelia beamed, her whole body doing a delighted little jiggle. Thank god for the pool distorting my body. The sight of those thighs shaking sent a wave of heat straight to my hips. No need to give Cordelia another reminder of things we wouldn’t act on. Yet.

“Put some clothes on before you come upstairs,” she said, “all of that is way too distracting.” She waved in my general direction, her finger twirling to indicate - what? My tattoos? My biceps?

Either way, it was a badge of honor to know I was affecting her, too.

“Sure,” I said and watched her thighs as she sauntered off with an extra kick in her step. That kick probably had everything to do with the outlook of cake for breakfast, and nothing to do with me.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Victor’s housewas the mirror version of mine. My stairwell started on the right side of the entrance, his on the left side. My kitchen was at the back of my house to the left, his was on the right. The mirror dimension also bled into the colors. Everything that was bright and happy and beautiful in my house was… just there.

“We bought this place like this, right?” I asked, as I followed Victor to his dining table, where he’d set up a work station for me. It spoke volumes that everything he had brought over - my laptop, a fluffy pink throw blanket, my glittery tumbler, and my holographic notepad - were the only things standing out in this showroom of a house. “Did you never add personal belongings?”

“I have a punching bag. Some books.” He shrugged and pulled the chair out for me. He’d even added one of the furry cushions from my office.