Chapter 27
Green walls crawled by as Phaedra hurried up the stairs and into the hallway, their endless maze as if dragging at her steps, their steady thrum a chant in her wake.
It almost felt as if they would hold her back—keep her from fleeing from the one thing she desired—and she hastened her steps still, afraid that they would convince her. Afraid that she would give in.
She pushed into her room, the heavy beat of her heart resonating in the awaiting silence, the ache burrowing its way into every inch of her body growing with every breath.
With rigid hands, she lit a candle, then watched her trembling reflection fumble with the buttons of her dress and the pins in her hair.
And when she finally slid in among the sheets, their coolness doing nothing to quench the heat building beneath her skin, she knew sleep would not come soon. Not like this.
She pulled the covers to her chest, her eyes roaming over the dimly lit walls, searching for something to anchor her in this raging storm of burning sensation.
The flicker of the light seemed to echo her own thundering pulse, and she wondered if Nathaniel felt the same at this very moment.
If her own closeness had magnified into this intoxicating magnetism as his had for her.
If his own want had moved beyond fleeting desire into a need defying all reason and even the idea of withstanding it to nothing less than torture.
She wondered what would happen if she were to go back to him. If he would welcome her, or turn her away. Or if he would already be there, standing outside her door, waiting to be let in.
She let out a tremulous breath, the pounding of her heart like steps approaching her door, and her eyes fluttered closed to the image of opening it to him.
She could almost taste the thickening air, feel how their breaths would fall heavy into the diminished space between them, and she saw herself step back, but only to allow him entry.
She could see the green of his eyes darken to near black, his youthful face breaking under the hunger raked over his features. There would be no more lingering trace of the boy he once was, only a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
Her pulse surged at the image of him shedding his clothes as he would approach, as she herself would retreat to guide him onto these very sheets.
And then it would be her turn to pull the nightgown from her body, her ebony hair spilling over moon-kissed skin before his mouth would descend upon hers, hot and demanding.
She could almost feel how his burning skin would settle onto hers, her thighs parting to cradle the weight of his body.
And as she would finally guide him into her, their ragged sighs coming alive on each other’s lips, they would finally become what they had always meant to be—forever swaying to the frenzied pace of their longing.