Chapter 9 Adele
CHAPTER NINE
ADELE
The next morning, I woke with my arms and legs wrapped around Raoul’s pillow, my face buried in the fabric that smelled like him.
A smile tugged at my lips before I was fully conscious. Yesterday, we’d kissed. Multiple times. Until Fletcher groaned so loudly we’d pulled apart, both of us breathing hard, my magic had created what could only be described as a localized blizzard in the sitting room.
Raoul had retreated to the sofa with a mumbled excuse about propriety, and I’d come to bed alone, too overwhelmed to do anything but replay every one of those kisses until I’d finally fallen asleep.
I traced my lips, still tender from the intensity of it all. He’d kissed me like he never wanted to stop. Like I was the only person that mattered in the entire world.
He’d promised to take me to the archives today. Three centuries of daily records, waiting for me to explore them. The thought of what I might learn was almost as exciting as his kisses.
And wasn’t that a startling revelation?
I sat up, eager to get the day going. I’d finally get to see the data I’d been dreaming about since he’d first mentioned it.
And I’d be alone with Raoul. After yesterday’s kisses. After he’d admitted to wanting me and being terrified of it.
My belly fluttered in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.
I needed to bathe and dress before he woke. The thought of sharing the bathing pool this morning after the way he’d kissed me against the wall—
No. I couldn’t think about that right now, or I’d accidentally create another snowstorm. A few flakes had already started falling.
I slipped from the bed, grabbing fresh clothes from the wardrobe where my belongings had been placed.
The sitting room was quiet except for the sound of Fletcher’s snores coming from the direction of the sofa.
I spotted a blanket-covered lump that had to be Raoul buried underneath, lying beside my companion.
I pushed the bathing chamber door open as quietly as possible and stepped inside, closing it behind me with a soft click.
Steam filled the room, thick and warm, curling through the air like silk. The pool was full, the water’s surface rippling slightly. I’d bathe and—
A sound stopped me mid-thought.
A low groan, rough and masculine, came from somewhere beyond the heaviest curtain of steam.
My breath caught.
Another sound followed. A harsh exhale and my name, spoken in a voice so strained and desperate it sent heat flooding through my entire body.
Blessed moonbells.
Through the steam, I could just make out Raoul’s silhouette. Raoul, who was not lying on the sofa underneath a blanket beside my companion. He had such yummy broad shoulders, and I’d be a fool not to gape at the strong lines of his body, the movement of his arm, the rhythm of it—
Hold on. Rhythm of his arm movement?
Water splashed.
I spun around so fast I nearly tripped, my hand slapping over my mouth to muffle my gasp.
He was touching himself. Thinking about me.
I needed to leave. Immediately. Quietly. Pretend I’d never opened this door, never heard my name escape his lips in that tone that made my knees go weak.
“Fuck,” he growled, and the word sent a shock of pure want straight through me.
Opening the door as quietly as I could, I slipped through it and practically threw myself across the sitting room and into the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I pressed my hands to my burning cheeks and leaned against the door. My entire body felt overheated, my skin too sensitive, my mind replaying that rough groan over and over.
He’d been thinking about me. About our kisses. About—
I couldn’t finish that thought or I’d end up creating a blizzard.
I forced myself to move, to focus on something other than the image of Raoul’s silhouette through the steam. I needed to dress. Prepare for the day. Find a way to act like a normal person who hadn’t just heard her husband pleasuring himself while saying her name.
Professional partnership, I reminded myself firmly. We’d agreed. We’d kissed, yes, and it had been incredible, but we were both practical people who understood the difference between physical attraction and actual emotional connection.
The fact that my hands shook while fastening my dress had nothing to do with anything.
I chose a deep blue gown, one that fit properly and didn’t threaten to spill my breasts out at inappropriate moments. The neckline was modest, the skirt comfortable, and I looked absolutely normal in it and not at all like someone who’d just accidentally spied on her husband.
I took my time with my hair, braiding it carefully and pinning it up. Then I took more time going through my research notes that didn’t need to be reviewed.
Finally, I rearranged the books on the bedside table by size.
Where are you? Fletcher asked. Raoul ordered breakfast, and there’s a huge pile of eggs. I want at least three, and some of that dark-grain bread slathered with butter. His whine rang out in my mind. Where are you? He’s going to wonder if you’ve died in there.
I’m just…getting ready.
You’ve been moving around a long time. At least forty-five minutes.
Had it really been that long?
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the bedroom door.
Raoul stood by the table near the windows, fully dressed in a charcoal tunic with gold threading at the collar. His damp hair had been tied back, and he looked completely at ease as he arranged breakfast on plates.
“Good morning,” he said, turning to smile at me. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost in there.”
“Just taking my time.” My voice came out mostly normal, which felt like a victory.
His smile widened. “I ordered extra food for Fletcher.”
Raoul pulled out a chair for me, and I sat, hyperaware of how close he stood, how I could smell his soap—the same one I’d used yesterday. Which meant we’d both been naked in the bathing pool, and now I was thinking about him naked again and—
“Are you all right?” Raoul asked, settling into the chair across from me. “You’re flushed.”
“Fine. I’m excited about visiting the archives.” Not a lie. I was excited. Among other things.
“We’ll head down after breakfast.” He passed me a plate with eggs and bread, lowering a third onto the floor for Fletcher, who groaned and strode over to gobble it up. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the day so we won’t be rushed.”
The whole day. Alone with him in the archives. After yesterday’s kisses. After this morning’s…discovery.
This was alright. I was a professional. I could absolutely spend an entire day with my devastatingly attractive husband without thinking about how he’d groaned my name while he—
Snow began falling from the ceiling.
Noting it, Raoul raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry.” I waved my hand, dissolving the snow before it could accumulate. “Just a little excess magic. I’m excited, so it’s, um, coming out of me. Not coming, but well…” I need to stop right now.
“Not a problem. Eat. You’ll need your energy for going through centuries of data.”
I focused on my breakfast, keeping my gaze on my plate instead of on Raoul’s hands. Because looking at his hands made me think about what those hands had been doing this morning and thinking about that made my magic go haywire.
You’re being ridiculous, Fletcher said.
I’m being professional.
You’re creating random weather phenomena because you can’t stop thinking about your new husband.
I hate you sometimes, I said with a droop of my shoulders.
No, you don’t. You love me dearly, as dearly as I love you.
You’re right. Sorry.
Just relax. Enjoy the day. Whatever’s bothering you will still be there tonight to keep you from sleeping.
I gave him a rueful look. Thanks.
Anytime.
“The archives are on the second level,” Raoul said between bites of bread. “They’re temperature and humidity controlled to preserve the documents, so you’ll find the environment quite comfortable for extended research.”
“That’s excellent planning.” I latched onto the safe topic. “Proper preservation is essential for historical documents. Do you use magical climate control?”
“Yes, it was set up eons ago.”
We discussed preservation techniques through the rest of breakfast, and I managed to get through it without creating any more inappropriate weather or thinking about…that. By the time we’d finished, I’d almost convinced myself I could act normally around him.
Then he stood and offered his hand to help me up, and the moment his fingers closed around mine, a warm breeze swept through the room, carrying the scent of summer rain.
“Interesting,” he said, looking around.
“Atmospheric sensitivity,” I said quickly. “Dragon shifters run hotter than witches, which creates natural temperature differentials that my magic tries to equalize. It’s purely physiological.”
“I see,” he said softly, stroking his thumb across my knuckles. “Nothing to do with the fact that I kissed you senseless yesterday?”
My face heated. “That’s…also physiological. Increased heart rate, elevated body temperature, hormonal responses—”
“Adele.”
“Yes?”
“You’re adorable when you try to explain away attraction with science.”
“I’m not—it’s not—” I took a breath. “Science explains everything.”
His amber eyes held mine, and I saw heat there that had nothing to do with dragon physiology and everything to do with the same want that was currently making my knees tremble.
“We should probably go look at those weather records,” I said.
“Probably.” But he didn’t move, and he didn’t release my hand. He just kept looking at me in an odd way I couldn’t understand.
Fletcher groaned and slumped on the floor, placing his paws over his eyes. If you two are going to stand there staring at each other all day, I’m going to need more breakfast to fortify myself.
Do not jump up onto the table while we’re gone.
I’d never do something like that.
Sure.
Raoul released my hand and stepped back, clearing his throat. “Right. The archives. Shall we?”