with Kema most of the night after his assistant returned with one of his most expensive bottles of wine from the cellar.
Hope was a little drunk.
She was too smart to let herself get too far gone, though. He could see her pacing herself, balancing it off with food, water, and time. Damn. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself. As the hours ticked by, she relaxed more and more. She even put up with his leg resting against her hip where he still lounged behind her.
He’d get her used to him. Usually, he’d look a person in the eye and skip all the fussing. He’d rip away their reservations and morals and let them do whatever it was they wanted to do. Hope would take more work than that.
He was a little excited for the challenge, to be honest. He sipped his own wine, feeling more than just a little drunk, and found himself smiling at her. She talked history and politics with all the intelligence of a senator. Maybe more. Definitely more.
I wonder if she’d like to sit in the senate hall and wear the robes. Instantly, he dismissed the idea. Those rows of stone seats were filled with nothing but liars, schemers, and cheats. Not a single one of them could say an honest word or do a fates-damned thing that didn’t serve their own greedy, selfish needs.
He hated them all.
No, it’d be a terrible idea to make Hope a senator.
She was going to be the Lady Cardinal soon enough, anyway.
He grinned at the thought and fought the urge to touch her again. He wanted to rake his fingers through her hair and pull her down into a deep kiss. He wanted to taste the chocolate on her lips and her tongue. He wanted to show her what physical pleasure could really feel like.
But she’d slap him again.
One thing was painfully clear to him, though. He wanted to keep hearing her talk. He wanted to see her smile. He wanted to make her happy. He’d never felt like this before. Not even with Rose.
Holy shit, I think I’m really in love.
Now he just had to win her heart in return.
“I think it’s time I go to bed.” Kema sighed and stretched, arching her back and cracking it in a few places. The lithe little Egyptian wasn’t hard on the eyes. But lusting after her felt like lusting after Hugo. It was just wrong. She certainly wasn’t without her share of bedfellows either. It wasn’t uncommon that they’d trade back and forth or share.
But Hope was his. He drew the line there.
“What time is it?” Hope asked.
“Two in the morning or so,” Nero answered and yawned. Fine. He was tired. It had been an exciting day.
Hope laughed. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”
“Were you having fun?” He smiled.
She paused, as if she didn’t want to answer him. As if she didn’t want to admit it. But finally, she smiled faintly. “I suppose I was.”
“Grand.”
“Why don’t I take her to her rooms?” Kema stood. She didn’t even teeter on her feet. She knew how to hold her liquor.
“I want to do it.” Nero glared. Or he might have been pouting. He wasn’t sure.
“If you do it, she’s going to slap you again.”
“She has a point,” Hope said with a grin, joining in on the teasing.
“Oh, now you’re teaming up on me. I see how it is. I’ve made a terrible mistake.” But he loved it. Absolutely loved it. He’d bask in any attention from Hope, even if it was her making fun of him. It meant she was growing more comfortable with him, and that was a step in the right direction. “All right, Kema. You win.”
“Come on, Hope.”
His priestess stood, and he was sad for her absence. She turned her head toward him and graced him with another smile. “It was a nice night. Thank you, Cardinal.”
He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He sat up and, turning her hand, placed a slow, sensual kiss there at the sensitive spot of her palm. He let it linger. He watched her and grinned in victory as her cheeks went pink at his action.
Don’t press your luck. He let go with a small hum. “Goodnight, Hope. I’ll see you tomorrow—today, whatever—for breakfast, yes?”
She closed her hand tightly, and he could see the turmoil as some deep debate raged inside her. “That sounds good.” She wants me. She just knows she shouldn’t. I can work