20. Alexander
CHAPTER 20
Alexander
M y panic crashed into my anxiety and exploded into my abject groveling fear as we headed back down the trail. Being around Delilah is the only thing that feels right. Every damn day I can’t believe I was such a colossally stupid dickhead that I threw this away. She looked at me with love in her eyes and I took it for granted and assumed it would always be there. How could I have been so stupid?
The comfort of being around her is shot through with deep, painful shards of panic.
She doesn’t love me anymore.
And I don’t know what would make her love me again.
Fuck, I would start with her just liking me. Or at least not despising me.
I turn ideas over and over in my head. What else can I do? I haven’t done enough.
Or, most terrifying of all,
What if nothing is enough? What if I’ve just lost my wife forever and there’s no way to stop it?
I pushed the thought away, as the panic threatened to swamp me. My skin felt clammy, my head momentarily swimming with the terror of her leaving. The ground spun around me, and I focused on Delilah walking in front of me, with her efficient, confident stride.
Her little Spandex hiking shorts were tight on her ass, showing her generous curves and the fucking mouth-watering way her hips moved when she walked.
My heart pounded painfully against my chest, and I allowed myself to remember the first time I ever saw my wife. She was in the palace kitchens, bending over as Maurice showed her the whipped creams he was making for the desserts that night. The way her navy blue dress fell against her ass, hugging her lush curves, made my mouth instantly go dry. I walked toward her, feeling like the fucking apex predator I was. I was the Prince of Norjava; I got what I wanted, when I wanted it. I was surprised to see Libby’s lips curving up in a smile. My hardass Head Housekeeper never smiled. There must be something different about this woman. My temperamental Head Chef Maurice was holding out a spoon of cream to encourage her to taste, and she took it eagerly.
Her throaty little moan when the cream hit the tip of her tongue made my cock twitch in my pants. And then she turned around and saw me.
Mine , I thought as she raised her dark eyes to me. Eyes such a dark brown that they were almost black, and a look in them that made me hope my stiff cock wasn’t visible to the whole room. Clever, saucy, sweet, looking up at me under those dark lashes.
Mine.
I had had zero intention of actually finding a bride that weekend. This was just something I had done to please my father the King. I liked my life very well as it was and had no intention of settling down.
Until I saw her .
It was always her.
It was always Delilah.
When her uncle informed me that it was very important that Gesaint brides were untouched and virginal on their wedding nights, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stop at kissing.
Because nothing was going to stand between me and marrying the only woman I had ever loved or could love.
And then I had screwed everything up anyway.
“I know you can have anyone you want,” I heard myself saying. “Please let it be me. Please give me another chance.”
I don’t know how many times I’m repeating the words, my breath like jagged, cut glass in my chest.
Six months ago, before I met her, I would have laughed at the idea that any woman could affect me this way.
“I don’t trust you’ll do what you say,” she replied, and it felt like my heart was being ripped apart.
And the worst part of it is, it’s my own goddamn fault.
I want to kiss those luscious pink lips as she dips her head to adjust her tight little shorts.
Sex with Delilah is better than anything on earth, but god, I crave kissing her.
I can’t believe I used to be able to do it whenever I wanted.
I would give up everything if she would turn to me again with those big luminescent dark eyes and part her lips for me, the same eager way she used to open for me, tangling her tongue with mine, her body pressed tight against me.
“I will show you,” I said, once my voice felt almost under control. “I will show that I’m not that man anymore. I do what I say I will. You want me to get you the moon? Swim across the ocean? Dig all the shit out of the royal stables with a spoon? I’ll do it.”
Delilah scoffed. “Yeah. I want you to dig horse shit up with a spoon. Be serious, Alexander.”
“I am serious,” I insisted.
She sighed.
“I told you,” she said again. “Things can’t go back to how they used to be with us.”
The maelstrom of panic gripped me as it always did, filled me completely, making my head spin with the throbbing panic of her leaving me.
I would do anything to take it all back!
My hands and arms began to tremble uncontrollably, and I had to stuff my hands in my pockets, my face feeling numb and frozen.
My eyes raked her face, tried to think of something, anything, to say that was intelligent and compelling.
There was something about how she steadily held my eyes, how she tilted her head sideways.
She was waiting for me to say something.
But what?
“I know we can’t,” I said, and I had to stop and swallow, over and over, my throat feeling like it almost closed up with panic, before I could speak again. “But could we have a fresh start? Try again?”
For another several moments, she held my eyes, and it felt like she held more than that. She also held any possibility of happiness, the greatest desire of my heart, my entire fucking life, the difference between being a fucked-up playboy dumbass and a man who got a second chance with the love of his life.
“Hmph,” Delilah said, and she turned to head back down the mountain, brushing by me as she did.
My skin prickled with a needy heat at even the light touch from her.
Right now the syllables hmph were the most goddamn gorgeous things I’d ever heard in my life because hmph wasn’t no!
It didn’t mean I had much of a chance.
It might even be a chance the size of a fly’s asshole.
But there was a chance.
And I was going to seize the fuck out of it.