37. Nina
37
NINA
I feel dizzy for the rest of the night.
The last thing I expected was for Wesley to kiss me, and suddenly his lips were on mine and my body was on fire. Every glorious shift of his lips sent sparks straight down my center, and I replay the memory long into the night. While in bed, I keep putting my fingers to my lips.
I wanted that for months—and those blissful ten seconds were nowhere near enough. My stomach erupts in butterflies at the thought of doing more with him and my heart pounds at the increasing possibility of that happening. There are so many questions I want to ask him.
Why did it take you so long? Why now? Do you have feelings for me?
I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, but it’s impossible not to. Everything about it felt right. There was urgency in the kiss, yet I’d also never felt so peaceful. It was heaven.
The idea of sleeping tonight feels impossible, so at midnight, I slip out of bed for a glass of water. I pointedly keep my gaze away from the living room where Wesley is sleeping as I tiptoe into the kitchen. The glowing moonlight streams through the window above the sink, giving me enough light to quietly get what I need.
By the time I finish the glass, the toilet flushes, sending my heart into my throat. It’s definitely not Callie or Dimitri. Shit, shit, shit . At least I haven’t put my bonnet on or braided my hair yet. His footsteps shuffle behind me and suddenly stop.
“Are you okay?” Wesley asks.
I turn and lean on the sink. He stays just out of the moonlight, cloaked in shadows, but my stomach tingles at his black tank top.
“Yeah. I was thirsty. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” I whisper, lingering in the moment. I can’t move. I don’t want to.
“I—” He pauses, scrounging up the words. “I’m sorry.”
He steps closer, and my breath catches in my throat. His hair is tousled and his shirt hugs every muscle so perfectly that I know I’m seconds away from pouncing. I clear my throat. “For what?”
“For kissing you. I put you in an awkward situation?—”
“Did I seem awkward to you?”
“Well, no, but… it wasn’t appropriate. You’re my client.”
I release a breath and take a small step closer. “You might be sorry, but I’m not.” I ball the fabric at his chest in my fist, yanking him down to me. His lips find mine like a magnet.
Sorry, my ass.
He falls into my kiss with a groan, his hands gripping either side of my face as we stagger backward. My lower back hits the counter and he doesn’t hesitate to haul me onto the surface by my thighs.
This kiss is far more raw than earlier; we cling to each other almost desperately. With his tongue in my mouth and hands traveling my thighs, hips, and waist, I arch into him with the hope he’ll sate the wetness between my legs. His head falls to my jaw and leaves behind wet kisses down to my collarbone.
“Wesley,” I beg, my hushed voice making me sound even more desperate. I need something— anything . His breath grazes my skin when he curses. I bring his lips to mine again, releasing an unintentional whimper at how savory he tastes. It’s better than what I imagined.
Suddenly, a loud snore erupts from his grandparents’ bedroom down the hall, making Wesley and I stop. It’s a fifty-fifty chance it was Dimitri or Callie.
We catch our breath, heads bowed together. It’s a relief to finally touch him without hesitation or apprehension, to feel him against me.
“M-maybe,” I stutter, “maybe we shouldn’t do this here.”
“You’re probably right,” he whispers, voice strained.
I tighten my legs around him when he starts to lift me. “Wait—” I tug on his shirt. “Just… just a few more seconds.”
I can’t have more of him tonight, but I need it for a little longer. Wesley burrows his face in my neck, one hand flat against my lower back and the other caressing my thigh. He melts into me, reaching into every hidden corner of my soul.
I thread my fingers through his feather-soft hair, biting back a lustful sigh when I feel his lips graze the shell of my ear. He kisses me hard enough to send sparks between my thighs. And when he groans into my mouth, the sparks ignite.
Wesley suddenly lifts me off the counter and sets me down. He forces himself away, catching his breath and planting one last kiss on my temple. “Good night, angel.”
In the morning, after twenty minutes of saying goodbye, Wesley and I continue the drive.
I don’t have time to ponder what happened yesterday; Maia calls me and we spend two hours reviewing the data and presentation, and I spend the other two hours sleeping.
I am trying to do something revolutionary. This can change the course of a country and will have more than a chapter in a history book—it’ll need its own. I should be nervous. My heart should thunder in my chest because I hate being told no or feeling incompetent.
Neither my sister nor cousin warned me of Corsos’s grandeur. Never before have I seen so many mansions. It’s hard to marvel at the sights when I instantly think of the parents in Kosita who send their children to beg for money, of the city’s homeless population. The fire in my chest intensifies, telling me this proposal is the right choice. I couldn’t enjoy the luxuries of being a princess without doing everything possible to help the people I’d represent.
The car pulls through a private checkpoint and up to one of the mansions. Without enough time for a tour before the meeting, maids bring me right to my suite, which is unfathomably opulent. The plush bed has champagne and ivory pillows. Its fabric probably costs as much as my student debt. People live like this. All the time. My eyes snag on the box tied with a pink ribbon, and a thrill runs up my spine at the note attached.
Princess Nina,
We hope this care package comforts you during your stay.
The Higher Court
Princess Nina. Princess Nina. Princess Nina. It’s not a joke, not a lie. It’s me . I’m Princess Nina. I glance over my shoulder into the full-length mirror, at my curls, my brown skin, my tall frame. Princess.
It fits.
The passion hits me, quick and fierce. I want this. I truly, wholly want this.