find him sitting right outside the door, a glass of brandy in one hand and the bottle in the other. Still dressed in his dinner attire, hearing the door open, he looked up at me like I was out of place, not him.
“You are still up?” he questioned, looking up at me.
“Yeah, what are you doing?”
He glanced around at where he was sitting and then back at me, a sheepish grin on his face. “Drinking outside your door?”
“I see that, but why?”
“I thought you would be sleeping, and I did not wish to disturb you. You’ve had a long day.”
“Gale...” I didn’t know what to say. All I knew was seeing him like this made my heart ache and leap and do all sorts of things a heart shouldn’t be doing. I knelt beside him. “Would you like to come in since I am not sleeping?”
“Yes, I would. However, I do not think I am good company right now,” he muttered, lifting the glass to his lips.
“You on your worst day is still better than no you at all. And believe me, I would know,” I said, gently offering him my hand.
He looked at it then turned to me before the corner of his lips turned up, and he took my hand, rising from the ground, following me back inside. When the door closed, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding on to me tightly.
“Why am I always showing you the weaker sides of myself?” he whispered. “Ask everyone here. This time last year, I was the cool prince, the fun prince, the troublemaker.”
I chuckled, leaning back into him. “I think you still might be a troublemaker.”
“Maybe, but it’s different now. Before, people would just wave me off, and so I just went on my way. I was strong. I did not care what others thought or what they said.”
“Not caring about how you affect others is not strength—”
“Hmm.” He groaned, shaking me slightly, the liquid still in his glass nearly spilling out. “Do not offer wisdom right now, Odette. I want to complain. Support me in my pity party.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it; he was cute. “Fine. What do you want me to do? Stomp my feet?”
“No.” His arms dropped, and when they did, I could finally turn to him. His eyes looked all over my face before stopping at my lips. “Kiss me.”
I hesitated for only a second before reaching up, taking his face into my hands, and kissing him. The next thing I heard was the sound of glass shattering as it hit the floor, and his arms wrapped around me, his hand grabbing hold of me and lifting me.
“Gale...”
“Keep kissing,” he demanded, walking us over to the bed.
I did what he asked, this time feeling his tongue run over my bottom lip until I opened for him. His hands undid the robe I wore and let it fall before he reached under my top, cupping my breast through my nightgown. Shivers ran through me.
I moaned, falling back onto the bed with him.
Pinning me underneath him, he kissed from my lips to my cheeks, to my neck, all while his body pressed into me. Closing my eyes, I remembered how many nights I wished to be back here—back in his arms—how I dreamed of his kisses. And now, after months, here he was. My heart couldn’t take it. My throat ached, and I don’t know what sound I made, but he stopped, his head rising. I didn’t know what face I had made or was making until I saw the concern in his eyes and felt the moisture in mine. He opened his mouth to speak, but I spoke first.
“I missed you a lot,” I confessed. “I don’t remember if I said it already. But I really missed you.”
Slowly, his mouth closed, and he bit his bottom lip. It took him a second before he spoke. “Odette, you cannot say things like that to me now.”
“Why?”
“Because it makes my heart shake,” he whispered, resting his forehead on mine. “I am sorry—”
“I learned today that royals do not say I am sorry.”
“They do to people they love.” He cupped my face, his thumb gently tapping my lips. “And I love you, Odette.”
“Ditto,” I managed with the largest grin plastered to my face.
He groaned. “Would it kill you to say the actual words?”
“I think I have been cheesy enough for one night. You already got tears, Gale,” I teased.