Adrian didn’t expect to see her curled up, small and lost in her thoughts, as if afraid. Maybe she was. He’d just shown her a version of himself he usually kept buried deep below the surface: ugly, raw and dangerous. The sight of her crying had dulled the fury that had driven him moments ago, and though there was much they needed to say, truths that couldn’t stay hidden any longer… he decided it could wait.
“Spoiled Queen,” he murmured, the words edged with mock annoyance as he tugged the blindfold from her eyes.
He sat on the edge of the bed, one brow raised, a smirk curving his lips. The same one that carried a hint of danger. This Adrian was like a knife glinting in the dim light of his cabin. From the first–aid kit, he plucked a small tin of salve before setting it beside him on the floor. “Stay till,” he ordered, the commanding tone returning to his voice, not as harsh as before, but just enough to remind her who she was dealing with.
He wasn’t a brute, but he wasn’t harmless or a pushover either. And he had the feeling that she was starting to realize that. He wouldn’t blame her for being extra–cautious from now on, even as his rough and calloused touch spread the healing salve over the cuts on her arms. When he reached her cheek, his fingers caught her chin, guiding her face up to him. He tilted it, studying her as his thumb brushed over her skin. The anger was gone, but the intensity wasn’t.
When their eyes fmet, something in him gave way. He leaned down, closing the distance, and kissed her again. Slowly this time, but no less hungry. She’d covered herself with a blanket, so he didn’t push further. If she just wanted to simply kiss, to cuddle, or to lay there and talk to him, he’d let her. But he couldn’t pretend he didn’t want more. Not anymore.
“Saylor…” he whispered against her lips, letting the tin clatter to the floor. His arms caged her in, close enough that she could feel the warm tension in every muscle. “I won’t do anything you’re not ready for.” The fire in his eyes said he was barely holding himself back. “But you need to know that I want you more that I’ve ever wanted anyone.”
He knew she deserved gentleness, deserved to be cherished like the Queen she was — that he didn’t deserve her in turn— but that didn’t stop his hand from tracing her silloutte through the damp blanket, down her sides, over her hips, along her thighs and back up again, deliberate and slow.
“Say you want this,” he murmured, voice dropping into a grumble, “call me Captain again—” his lips brushed the corner of her mouth, “—and I’ll show you what real pleasure feels like.”
His gaze held hers, restrained and utterly captivate. Something coiled beneath his skin, tight and waiting, like a tide poised to break the moment she said his name.
