13. CHAPTER 13 #2
I stepped closer. “Moon.”
He spun. “Back the fuck off.”
I stopped.
His chest rose once, sharp. The gauze over his collarbone shifted with the movement. Neither of us moved.
“Was Saint Lucia part of the Writ too?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
His fist tightened at his side until it shook. “Fuck you,” he whispered.
I nodded once. “Fair.”
I’d earned that. But I still couldn’t stop looking at him, the flush on his neck, the way his chest moved too fast, the towel barely hanging on. Moon’s jaw flexed. He looked like he could hear every single thought running through my head.
“Get out,” he said, quieter now. Deadlier.
I didn’t move. Instead I stepped closer, crowding him until I could feel the heat coming off his damp skin and see the frantic beat of his pulse in his throat.
“No.”
His breath hitched, small, involuntary. He hated that I heard it.
But he had asked. He still cared enough to ask.
The ring box burned against my thigh. He was one wrong word away from putting my teeth through the door.
I pulled the box out. His eyes dropped to it.
Whatever softness had almost been there died instantly.
“No.”
“You haven’t even seen it.”
“I do not care what it is.”
“I got you this.”
Moon went still. He scoffed.
“Of course you did.”
I held the box out.
“Moon.”
His hand snapped out and struck mine hard. The box flew, hit the bench, and bounced beneath it. The ring slipped free, silver flashing once before disappearing under the wooden slats.
“A ring?”
Moon shoved me hard. My back slammed into the lockers. Metal bit into my shoulder.
“You are fucking unbelievable.”
“I didn’t—”
“Don’t.” His voice dropped. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
His eyes flicked to the box on the floor. His mouth twisted like the sight physically disgusted him.
“Do I look like your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You don’t get to hurt me and then—”
Hurt me.
Moon’s mouth snapped shut the second it left him. He knew what he’d just admitted. I saw the hurt flash across his face, before he buried it under fresh anger.
I stepped around him anyway. He let me. Barely. The ring had rolled under the bench. I dropped down, reached between the slats, and scraped my knuckles raw on the wet tile. Silver hit my fingers. I closed my fist around it.
Then the locker room door opened. Two Aster boys stepped in, laughing about something from practice, towels slung over their shoulders. They were mid-conversation and didn’t even notice us at first.
Moon turned his head sharply. “Get the fuck out.”
His voice cut through the locker room. Both boys froze. Their laughter died instantly. The taller one blinked, looking genuinely confused. “Moon? What the hell?”
“I said get the fuck out. Now.”
The two boys exchanged a bewildered glance before they backed out quickly. The door clicked shut behind them.
I stayed crouched on the floor for a second, staring up at him.
Fuck.
That cold, commanding tone hit me right in the gut. The way he shut them down, pure House of Moon heir, sharp and absolute, sent a dark thrill down my spine. Heat pooled low. My cock twitched, hard and interested.
Not now, you fucking idiot.
I shoved the reaction down and rose to my feet. I left the ring on top of his clothes and bag. Keep it. Throw it away. Destroy it. I didn’t care. It was his now.
“This is over, Ashbourne.” His voice was flat. Almost.
I didn’t move.
“I told you to leave.”
“I heard you.”
“Then do it.”
I stayed right where I was. “No. It’s not up to you to decide when this is over. You’re mine, Moon. You’ve been mine since Saint Lucia.” I leaned in until my mouth brushed his ear. “You’re hot, sure. I brought you up there to fuck you. That was the whole plan.”
His eyes widened.
“Then you started talking. Laughing at the shopping cart constellation. Coming back to the balcony instead of leaving.”
A bitter sound tore out of me. It still fucking hurt.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that version of you since.”
Moon’s breath hitched.
“I waited,” he whispered, cracking. “Paced outside that fucking hotel twenty minutes, drunk, like an idiot. Hoping you’d come after me. Hoping I hadn’t imagined how you looked at me.”
I stepped closer, grabbing his jaw, my thumb pressing hard against his bottom lip.
“I looked for you. Tore through every guest list, every camera feed, every favor I could call in without telling a soul why. I couldn’t get you out of my head.
Still can’t. You’ve been in my blood since that balcony, Moon.
I’m addicted. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that wasn’t forced on me. ”
“Fuck you,” he breathed. The words cracked, more pain than hate.
I pressed my forehead to his. “I know. I deserve it. I’m still not letting you go.”
Moon’s eyes burned. He fisted my shirt, yanked me down. Mouth crashed into mine, furious, wet, desperate. I kissed him back just as viciously, tongue pushing against his, tasting blood and salt. He bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood. My cock throbbed against his thigh.
“Moon.”
“No.”
He released my shirt and yanked my hair sharply, forcing my head back. “Don’t say my fucking name like that.”
The pull on my hair hurt. I smiled through it anyway. "Because it sounds like you already know who you belong to.”
He growled and kissed me harder, trying to punish the truth out of both of us. His towel slipped lower. My hand slid under it, gripping bare skin. Moon jerked against me, then shoved harder like he could still fight it. He couldn’t. I’d already felt how hard he was.
“Fuck,” he hissed between kisses, hips rolling once against me. “We can’t do this here.”
I laughed low against his lips. “Here is good to me.”
Moon shoved my chest. Hands pushed. Hips rolled anyway, body already decided.
I caught his wrist, held it, and used the other hand to tug the towel open.
The fabric fell. Moon was already hard, flushed, leaking at the tip.
He made a choked sound and lunged for the towel, frantic, fingers scrambling.
I didn’t let him have it.
I pinned his wrist to the locker, wrapped my hand around his cock. Thumb dragged the slick head. Thighs trembled.
“We can’t—” he started, voice breaking, cheeks burning crimson.
I stroked him once, firm and unhurried. His hips jerked forward before he could stop them, a humiliating little thrust that made fresh shame flash across his face.
Beautiful.
Moon shoved at my chest with his free hand, breathing hard, eyes wild with panic and unwanted heat. He twisted, reaching frantically for the towel.
This time I let him have it.
He snatched it back. Shaky hands tried to cover himself.
Cheeks burned crimson. The fabric did almost nothing to hide how hard he still was.
I stepped in before he could finish, took the edges of the towel from his hands, and wrapped it around his waist myself, my fingers brushing his skin as I tucked it securely.
I looked down at the obvious bulge still pressing against the towel, then back up at his flushed face. Satisfaction curved my mouth.
“Then where, prince?”
Moon’s breath hitched against my lips. Eyes flicked up, raw, helplessly wanting, then away again, like the sight of me burned. I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip. The words came out rough.
“Winter rose garden. Midnight. It’s private.”
His jaw flexed. Grip death-locked on the towel. My eyes dragged down him, flushed, aching, fucking mine.
“Fine.” He pushed me toward the door. “Winter rose garden. Midnight.”
I let him push. Not because I was done.
I reached for the ring resting on his clothes. Moon walked straight into me and grunted. I grabbed his wrist, pressed the ring into his palm, and closed his fingers around cold silver. “Wait. I want you to have it. Keira helped pick the style and—”
Moon looked up. Eyes wide. “You talk about me to your family?” Pure panic. That elegant mask cracked wide. We’d been doing so well until now.
He didn’t pull away. Fucking progress.
“Yeah.” I scratched the back of my neck. “You can trust them. They won’t say shit—”
He kissed me. Quick. I froze. Fuck. I’m so stupid for this guy.
“You’re not ashamed of me?” His voice scraped. “Of us?”
I laughed once, then killed it. He’s dead serious.
“No. Why the fuck would I be ashamed of us?”
He looked away. “I don’t know. Your family isn’t homophobic? Or the fact we’re supposed to hate each other… publicly. And inside, apparently.”
Moon slid the ring onto his finger. My chest fucking fluttered. Cartoon hearts exploding behind my eyes. Couldn’t kill the grin.
“No. My family’s never given a fuck. I’ve always been gay.”
Cheeks went crimson again. Delicious.
“What—you’re gay?”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah? I just kissed you and stroked your cock, Moonshine.”
“I thought maybe you were bi. Or manipulating me.”
“No. I’m gay. Women are fine. I have no interest in fucking them.”
He stared at me, suspicion plain, then back at the ring. Shoved me toward the door. Hard. “Go. I’ll see you at midnight.”
I was still grinning when the door nearly took my face off. He’d said yes.
Sweet fucking thing.