Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
There it is—the hitch in her indomitable facade. She can pretend to be the Chief’s fearless daughter all she wants.
A wild pulse never lies.
Tigerlily simpers in my grip, choking on countless pleas and objections. She knows what’s coming; she also knows this could be vastly different if only she listened.
Given the shrill of her scream as I latch onto her neck, I suspect she’ll beg for the full extent of my proposition soon.
Quite soon.
♫ Lost Boy - Ruth B. ♫
It’s quiet.
So utterly quiet and serene.
The clear night sky twinkles with stars, incandescent rays from the moon pouring in through my bedroom window.
Peter lays on my chest, passed out like a light.
And me? I lay still, contentedly so, raking my fingers through his light caramel locks as I watch his back rise and fall with each breath. I can never manage to sleep in these moments. I love them too much.
Long for them too much when we aren’t together.
Not to mention, I wouldn’t fare well if I happened to doze off and my mother came in for whatever reason. She doesn’t care much for Peter, let alone approve of our friendship.
If she knew it exceeded platonic lines, that I’ve given him my heart—and my body—she’ll likely enlist my father to aid her in plotting a horrific death at the hands of the Faes.
So these moments right here, I take great care in hiding them. I know it’s wrong, know I should respect her wishes and keep him out of our home. But I’ve been the respectful, good-mannered daughter my entire existence and, quite frankly, I’m tired of it. Whether she likes it or not, I will be with Peter. Will continue to honor and love him.
Don’t misunderstand me—her advice is appreciated, something I know she offers because she loves me and wants the best for me, but I’m not a child.
I’m a woman. The choice is mine to make. Not hers nor my father’s.
Mine.
I just have to figure out how to get out of this house first...
“Peter,” I whisper reluctantly, squeezing his bicep. “Peter, wake up.”
Groaning softly, he stirs in my grasp and cracks his chocolate brown eyes open. “Huh?”
I have to bite my lip to contain the mewl trying to break free as he rests his chin between the valley of my breasts and gazes up at me. He looks more boyishly perfect than usual.
Sleepy eyes.
Mussed up hair from my restless fingers.
“It’s almost morning. You have to go.” I don’t want him to leave, but it’s getting awfully late—or rather, quite early. The sun will rise soon and mother is always up with the first golden rays peeking over the horizon.
“Did I sleep through again?” he rasps, pushing up onto his elbows.
I nod and smile softly, spreading my legs wider to accommodate him. Peter smirks knowingly. His eyes shine deviously as he crawls over me and fuses our lips together, the tip of his hard length probing me immediately.
He could slide right in if he wanted to. I’m still wet for him, so wet, more so now that his mouth is on mine again...
“I hate leaving you,” he mumbles, rotating his hips just enough to tease me.
It’s maddening.
He loves doing this, loves to make me beg.
Wriggling beneath him, I roll my hips as much as his weight will allow, seeking far more friction than he’s willing to give me at this hour. “So don’t,” I breathe. “Take me with you.”
“You know I can’t, T. Your mama would have my head.”
“I don’t care. If we hid away together, we could have this all the time without fear of being overheard. We could sleep together, wake up together, have meals together, even laugh together. It’ll be just like this, only so much better.”
But as always when I suggest such things, Peter shakes his head solemnly and breaks free from my hold. He’s on his feet faster than I can blink, shoving his legs into his hunter green trousers. “You know that’s not even a possibility right now. They’d find us one way or another.”
On the one hand, I know he’s right. My parents would tear Rosewood apart if I simply disappeared without notice. They’d align forces with other willing factions, send search parties out until I was found. And yet, on the other hand, I can’t help but think that, if he truly wanted me by his side, he knows Rosewood isn’t our only option. Sure it seems that way with how far overseas other territories lie, but it’s not impossible.
In any case, I don’t ever press him on the topic further than the initial suggestion. Mostly because I’d rather have him like this than not have him at all. I have no desire to quarrel with him about the future when it could very well be that he’s not ready for such a commitment yet. I would never want to force or rush him into something of this nature. I want him to want it in the same equal measure as I.
One day, I keep telling myself. One day he won’t want to crawl into an empty bed, and I’ll be there.
I’ll always be there.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” Fully dressed now, he looms over me, flashing me that boyish grin.
My lips spread coyly in return. “As soon as I’m up, I’ll be at our spot.”
Peter nods and reaches out for me. “Give me one last kiss, T. Come here…”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m on him in a flurry, winding my limbs around him like a vine.
A bare vine at that.
His warm hands grip my backside as he walks us toward the window, our lips locked, tongues dancing ever so sensually.
“I love you, Peter,” I vow, all but whimpering as he sets me down on my toes and slips out the window into the cool dawn.
“And I you, Tinks,” he whispers. “Dream of me.”
“Always,” I answer, but he doesn’t hear it, not only because it’s a murmur carrying in the wind, but because he’s already gone, dashing his way through the forest to the safety of Lost Lake.
“Good morning,” my mother says rather ambiguously as I amble into the kitchen just hours after Peter left.
That tone.
I know that tone. It’s one she’s given my father on more than one occasion—when she’s not pleased. Combined with the sideways glance she cuts my way, my heart rate spikes, but I remain as indifferent and unaffected as possible, only faltering a step or two along the way. Sometimes I think she knows I sneak Peter in, but I’m quick to push that thought aside.
There’s no way.
Not when we’re so careful.
From the tender way he makes love to me to how he swallows my cries when my climax consumes me. There’s just no way…
“Good morning, mama,” I answer cheerfully, popping a kiss on her cheek as I shuffle behind her.
“There’s tea.” She points her blade at the kettle just a short ways from where she stands.
Again, that tone; curt and clipped, almost cool.
My body locks up and, again, my heart thunders. My mind starts racing, retracing both mine and Peter’s steps from last night. Nothing shoots up red flags, though. We were as quiet as always and I’m positive she was fast asleep when he slipped in through the window to begin with.