Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72146 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Even so, I check to see that my rooms are empty. I lock the door from the inside.
Then I strip my nightgown over my head. I carry it with me to the bed, lay it across the blankets, then take off my undergarments, too.
Naked, I blow out the candle on the table by my bed and slide beneath the covers. They’re cool to the touch from how long I have been gone. Goosebumps slip along my skin as I shiver, waiting to be warmed from the covers.
And still, so many days later, I think of him. Of all the worries that plague me, my mind wanders to the man in the shadows.
Why would he wait for me on that balcony if he was going to disappear?
Why can I still feel his presence in the castle when he won’t show himself?
I smelled him. I know I did. That was his scent in the air, as if he had been standing there for quite some time, waiting for me, only to leave as soon as I arrived.
Or perhaps he left because I was about to arrive. Perhaps he does not want to show me who he is. Perhaps he knows I thought of going to him, and that’s why he slipped away while I was in thought. I let my mind wander as a soft pleasure pulses within me.
Maybe he is no prince but yet, he craves me. Maybe he felt he could not control himself. That at any moment his restraint would snap and he would cross the space between us and embrace me. If he covered my mouth—with his hand or with kisses—no one would hear me cry out.
No one would hear any sounds I made. Perhaps even sounds of pleasure.
And perhaps he thought afterward, that he had made a mistake. Perhaps he went to wherever he was staying—in the castle or in the village—and regretted putting such distance between us.
Perhaps he has been thinking of it ever since that night, with regret burning in him, until finally he can no longer stand it.
Perhaps then, he might do something reckless. The very idea is intoxicating. Warmth dances along my skin…along every inch.
It is nothing but a fantasy, but I allow myself to indulge.
I imagine him moving through the shadows so that no one notices him coming and going. His footsteps make no noise, and he knows the castle so well that there are many entrances for him to choose from. No guard notices or stops him. No servant sees him or questions him.
There’s nothing to stop him coming to the door of my rooms and opening it.
There would be some sound. A soft creak of the hinge and a groan from the wooden doorway. I close my eyes and imagine that I have just heard that sound—the movement of air and then an even quieter noise as he shuts the door.
I must pretend to be sleeping. What this man wants cannot be anything he would have asked for on the balcony. Anything he might have asked then might not have been polite, but he would not have dared to take much more of a risk. Not when it would have been so easy for me to flee back to the ballroom and the safety of all my father’s guests, not to mention the guards that would come running at the first sign of trouble.
No—what he wants now is something uncontrollable and forbidden. That’s why he had to sneak through the shadows and into the castle and into my bedchamber.
I know that if I opened my eyes, I wouldn’t find a man at my door, waiting for his breathing to settle so he could move closer, but I imagine it anyway.
I imagine I can hear him breathing deeply. Control is nearly impossible for him.
I slip my hand underneath the covers, exploring my body. My fingertips softly and deftly make their way across my heated skin. With no corset to constrict me and no gown to weigh me down, I’m open to exploration. Gently, I pinch my nipples and make them peak, then cup my hand around each of my breasts. I slide my hand over my flat stomach to the curls where my legs come together. The sensation causes a soft moan to spill from my lips. He’d love that sound, wouldn’t he? He’d want more of it and more to touch. More to explore.
With a groan of the bed and rustling of the sheets, I spread my legs and stroke my fingers just above my clit, teasing myself before dipping them lower.
I am already wet. My heart seems to be in my throat. I have never dared to do this, and now that I am learning the shape of myself, I cannot believe I waited so long. I seek out my hot, tight entrance and slide a finger inside, then withdraw it, my body shaking.