Twisted Games (Twisted, #2)(107)
The space between us hummed, so taut with anticipation and unspoken words it was a living, breathing thing that pulled us closer together. No more of the distance I’d felt in the hospital. She was in my skin, my soul, the very air I breathed.
Everything I’d gone through the past two weeks to get here had been worth it.
“Apologies for being late. I ran into Markus and got roped into a conversation about the coronation.” Bridget brushed her hair out of her face, and I detected a small tremble in her hand. “It turns out the archbishop—”
“Come here, baby.”
I didn’t give a fuck about Markus or the archbishop. I needed her. Only her.
She froze at my low command, roughened by weeks of longing. For a second, I thought she’d turn tail and run, which might be smart, considering the pent-up fire raging through me. But then she ran toward me, her hair streaming behind her in the wind.
I caught her easily while our mouths crashed against each other. Tongues dueling. Teeth scraping. Hands roaming over every inch of flesh we could access.
Two weeks might as well have been two years, based on the way we devoured each other.
I cupped her ass and nipped her bottom lip in punishment for forcing us to waste all the time we could’ve spent together. For thinking anything she said could make me give her up when she was the only thing I’d ever wanted.
Even if I did stupid shit like walk out in the heat of the moment, I’d always find my way back to her.
“I’m sorry,” Bridget whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “For what I said at the hospital. I don’t want to marry Steffan, and I don’t—”
“I know.” I skimmed my palm over her back, over heated flesh flowing into cool silk, and another small shiver rippled through her. “I’m sorry for walking out.”
Regret twisted my insides. Our separation had been as much my fault as hers. I should’ve stayed. Fought harder.
Then again, she’d needed the space to sort through her thoughts. Her grandfather’s heart attack had been fresh in her mind, and there’d been no changing her mind that day.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” My hand lingered on the small of her back. “Remind me to kill Markus the next time I see him.”
She released a small laugh. “Done.” Bridget tipped her chin up until her eyes met mine. “I…” She appeared to think better of what she’d been about to say. “How did you get in here? If anyone saw you…”
“They didn’t. Navy SEAL, remember?” I drawled. “I can evade a few palace guards.”
She rolled her eyes, and my mouth twitched at the familiar sight of her amused exasperation. Fuck, I’d missed her. This. Us.
“And Booth?”
“Nearly scared the guy to death when I showed up at his house, but I can be pretty persuasive.” It’d taken less convincing than I thought. According to Booth, Bridget had been in a funk since the hospital, and he’d hoped seeing me would help. He wasn’t stupid—he’d guessed Bridget and I really did have something going on.
Booth could lose his job if someone found out he was smuggling notes from me to Bridget, but he’d taken the risk anyway.
I owed that man a nice, cold beer and a steak dinner in the future.
“I hadn’t expected you to reach out after what happened,” Bridget said. “I thought you were upset with me. I thought…” Her throat flexed with a hard swallow. “You might’ve left.”
“I did. Had to leave the country to get a new visa,” I clarified when her eyebrows shot up. “Six months as a tourist.” I flashed a crooked smile. “Guess I have to get an ‘I Love Eldorra’ T-shirt now.”
The tiniest of smiles crossed her lips. “So, you’re staying for six months?” She sounded both relieved and sad.
Six months was a long time and nowhere long enough.
“No, princess. I’m staying for as long as you’re here.”
Bridget’s eyes flared with delight before her muscles tensed again. “How…why…”
“Let me figure out the how. As for the why…” I pressed her tighter to me. “I’m not leaving you. If you’re in Eldorra, I’m in Eldorra. If you’re in Antarctica, the Sahara, or the middle of the fucking ocean, I’m there. I’m as much yours as you are mine, princess, and a law isn’t keeping me away. I don’t care what a piece of paper says. I’ll burn down the entire fucking Parliament if I have to.”
A thousand emotions passed over her face. “Rhys…”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are. And something must be wrong with me because I’ve never been more touched by the prospect of arson.” Her quick smile faded. “But there’s something I need to tell you. Several things, in fact.”
Wariness filled me at her tone. “Okay.”
“It’s funny you mentioned burning down Parliament. I have an idea…not physically burning it down,” she added hastily when my eyebrows rose. “But a way to repeal the law before Steffan proposes.”
The beast in my chest snarled at his name. Andreas’s plan didn’t solve the short-term problem of Bridget and Steffan’s engagement—and it would be a short-term problem—but I’d deal with it myself. No way in hell would Bridget wear another man’s ring on her finger.