Chapter 34
LOUIS
The elevator opens directly into her loft, and I step inside, immediately understanding why she loves it here.
Exposed brick lines the far wall, and it’s warm in the late afternoon. Canvases lean against every surface. Some are finished or close to being done. Others are just sketched and waiting for color. Paint clothes are folded off to the side with paint splattered on them.
There are dozens of shades, evidence of years of work, of late nights and early mornings.
A dark leather couch faces the windows, with a knitted blanket thrown over the back.
Bookshelves are stuffed with art books that line the wall near the kitchen.
The whole place smells of coffee and fresh flowers.
Near the kitchen, I spot a small Egon Schiele drawing in a simple black frame. On the opposite wall, there’s a Helen Frankenthaler print in soft pinks and oranges that catches the sunlight perfectly.
I understand why she felt so at home in my loft in the palace. She has the same kind of sanctuary I do. The brick, the art, the way sunlight leaks through the windows … it feels like her. It has the comfort of a place that’s been loved and lived in.
“This is it,” Addison says behind me, closing the door.
“Feels like home. Cozy. Very much you.” I turn to face her, and she’s standing there in that blue sundress with the pearl buttons, inviting me into her world. “You have a Schiele.”
“A gift from my father when I graduated.” She moves past me and trails her fingers along the back of the couch. “He said every artist needs to live with genius so they remember what they’re chasing.”
“And the Alice Neel sketch?”
“Found it at an estate sale in Brooklyn six years ago. The family had no idea what they had.” She grins. “I paid two hundred dollars for it.”
“You seem to have all the luck.”
“I agree.” She reaches for me and pulls me close. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
I take her hand, her fingers small and warm in mine. “Nothing was going to stop me.”
Outside, a siren wails somewhere in the distance and fades. The city hums through the windows with that constant New York energy that never settles. I let it wash over me while I tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear. My body is exhausted from traveling.
“What do you think your mother will do when she finds out you’re here?”
I shrug. “Maybe she’ll fire the look-alike she hired to stand in for me when I’m not being cooperative.”
Addison’s mouth falls open. “What?”
“That’s the correct reaction. I’m fucking livid, Addy.”
She wraps her arms around me. “I don’t have the answers.”
“Luckily, we don’t need them right now,” I say.
“Are you hungry?” she asks.
“For you,” I whisper.
“You look like you’re about to collapse.”
“I’ll sleep later,” I say, pulling her closer. “Right now, I just want this.”
She relaxes against me. We stand in her living room while car horns drift up from the street below. Her head rests against my chest, and I hold her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, feeling her warmth.
Everything I potentially gave up for her flashes through my mind. I don’t regret it. From the moment I saw her at that gallery, I knew she was different, like I’d found what was missing in my life. I didn’t realize she’d become my entire world.
“I want to see where you paint,” I say against her hair.
“Really?” she asks.
“Yes, I want to know everything about your world,” I confess.
It makes her smile as she leads me across the loft to a corner near stacked windows that stretch twelve feet high.
Ivy snakes up the wall and is attached to another planter.
There’s an easel with a cloth over the top, and supplies are freshly laid out.
Brushes are in jars, and tubes of paint are scattered around.
“You’ve been painting?”
She turns to me. “I was raging and couldn’t sleep because of the time difference. Thought I’d put my emotions to use.”
I can’t stop staring at her.
“Would you like to see it?”
I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head at her. “I thought that was against your rules.”
“It’s not. It was a move, Louis. It gave me time to pivot, if needed.”
My mouth parts. “Really?”
“Yeah. I don’t give a fuck if anyone sees what I’m painting,” she says with a laugh, pulling the cloth off and showing me a canvas.
“Addison,” I whisper.
It’s us at the waterfall, tangled together in the water, my forehead pressed against hers. The colors are soft and dreamlike. Blues and greens bleed into each other, but I can feel the magic in the fireflies floating around. The emotion in it is unmistakable.
This isn’t just a painting. It’s a moment, an artistic love letter.
“I woke up around three a.m., wide awake from the time difference, and I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. About you. So, I painted it so I’d never forget.”
“You did this in a few hours?”
“In about eight. Rage is extremely motivating, Your Highness.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, like she didn’t pour her entire heart onto a canvas while the rest of the city slept. “You were taken from me. I was pretty sure that was how my villain origin story began.”
I chuckle, completely understanding anger like that. “I felt the same. Just … wow. I’m impressed.”
Her hands settle on my waist. “I know how royals are. It’s good to hold some cards back and not show them all.”
This makes me laugh. “You’re so damn smart.” I kiss her. “My mother has no idea who she’s dealing with.”
“No.” Addison’s smile is confident. “She doesn’t. And that was her first mistake.”
I kiss her again, pouring everything I feel into it. She matches my energy, her fingers gripping me, pulling me closer. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you too.”
She takes my hand and leads me toward a doorway on the opposite side of the loft. Her bedroom faces east, and every morning, she must wake up to the sunrise. More canvases lean against the walls, and there’s a stack of books on the nightstand.
“Wait,” she says, dropping my hand.
She moves around the room, dropping the tall blinds. Then she lights candles on the dresser, the windowsill, and the nightstand. The flames flicker to life until the space glows. When she turns back to me, the light dances across her face. I forget how to breathe.
“Moody,” she says.
I close the distance between us and kiss her, letting myself sink into the feeling of her mouth against mine. There will be no interruptions, no guards outside the door, and no clock counting down to the end. Just us and this room that’s full of candlelight.
My hands find the pearl buttons on her sundress that I’ve been staring at all afternoon.
I undo them, and each button reveals more skin, more of her. The dress falls open, and I push it off her shoulders, letting it fall to her feet. She’s standing there in pale blue lace and candlelight, and the sight of her makes my chest ache.
“You’re so beautiful.” I breathe out.
“So are you.”
She reaches for the hem of my shirt and pulls it over my head. Her hands spread across my chest. Warm palms rub against my skin, and I close my eyes, enjoying her touch. Soft fingers trace over my muscles, finding the bruise on my ribs, where a guard caught me.
She leans down and presses her lips to it. “Does it hurt?”
“Not when you do that.”
Her fingers trail down my stomach to my belt. She undoes the buckle with care and pushes my jeans down until I step out of them. We’re standing in her candlelit bedroom, stripped down to almost nothing, existing in the same space for the first time without fear.
“Come here,” I say and pull her onto the bed.
The sheets are cool against my back. As she settles on top of me, her hair falls around us. I reach up and pull the pins free, letting it tumble down in waves. I twirl a piece in my fingers while she looks down at me.
“For some reason, I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from this,” she admits, studying me.
I flip us so she’s beneath me, her hair spread across the white pillows. “I’m here. And I’m never leaving you again.”
I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, then her mouth.
I taste her while my hands explore every inch of skin I can.
I kiss down her neck and feel her pulse flutter against my lips.
My lips trail down the hollow of her throat and across her collarbone until I find the space between her breasts.
I worship my way down her body, enjoying the sweetness of her skin.
“Louis,” she breathes, getting worked up.
Addison unhooks her bra and slides it off. My mouth finds her breast, and I take my time flicking across her hard peak as her fingers twist in my hair.
When I reach her underwear, I press a kiss to her hip bone, then the other. I hook my fingers in the waistband and pull them down her legs. She’s completely bare now, glowing in the candlelight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more perfect in my entire life.
“Let me see you,” I say.
I slide off the bed and move to the end of the mattress. I reach forward, grabbing her ankles and scooting her ass to the edge before I drop to my knees. I settle between her legs, giving her exactly what she wants. The gasps and moans she makes as she trembles gut me.
Her hips lift toward my mouth, and I grip them, holding her steady while I take my time. She’s spread before me, letting me have everything I want. My only goal is to make her feel so fucking good that she forgets her own name.
“Louis, I—” She can’t finish because I know she’s close.
When I can taste it, I slow down.
“Not yet.” I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, letting her come down from the edge.
“You’re. So. Evil,” she says between pants.
“You chose it.” I kiss her other thigh, then drag my tongue slowly across her hip bone. “Because you enjoy it.”
“I do.”