Winter (The Lunar Chronicles #4) - Marissa Meyer Page 0,193

much less to the other side of the palace.

Thorne didn’t pull away. Rather, he slipped his arms around her back, and here was the gentle protectiveness she remembered. His breathing was as erratic as hers.

“Cress.” He said her name like a vow.

Cress shivered. Licking her tender lips, she forced her hands to un-bury themselves from his hair and moved them instead to his chest.

Then she forced herself to push him away.

Not enough to break out of his embrace, but enough that she could breathe and think and brace for the lifetime of regret she was about to bring on herself.

“This…” Her voice caught. She tried again. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

It took Thorne a moment, but then his dazed look hardened and he pushed himself back even farther.

“I mean, it is,” she amended. “Obviously, it is.”

His relief was obvious, and warmed every inch of her body. The quick, teasing grin spoke volumes. Of course this was what she wanted. Of course it was.

“But … not to be just another girl,” she said. “I never wanted to be just another one of your girls.”

The smile vanished again. “Cress…” He seemed torn, but also hopeful and unguarded. He took a deep breath. “She looked like you.”

She hadn’t realized she was watching his mouth until her eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“The girl in the hallway, the one that kissed me. She looked like you.”

The kiss with the Lunar girl felt like eons ago. The memory caused a surge of envy, but Cress did her best to stomp it back down.

“That’s ridiculous. She was brunette, and tall, and—”

“Not to me.” Thorne tucked a strand of Cress’s hair behind an ear. “She must have seen us walking together. Maybe she saw how I looked at you or something, I don’t know, but she knew … she made her glamour look like you.”

Lips parting, Cress envisioned herself hidden in that alcove again. Watching Thorne’s expression of bewilderment. Of desire. The way he’d kissed her, and held her …

“I thought I was kissing you,” he confirmed, brushing her lips with his again. And again. Cress’s fingers found his lapels and she pulled him closer.

It didn’t last long, though, as another memory resurfaced.

She yanked away. “But … you told her you loved her.”

His expression froze, desire giving way to alarm. They hovered in that moment for an eternity.

Finally, Thorne gulped. “Right. That.” He shrugged. “I mean, I was … we were—”

Before he could finish, the door swung open behind him.

Seventy-Two

They both froze.

Jaw tightening, Thorne whispered, “To be continued?”

She nodded, having some difficulty trying to remember where they were.

Thorne spun back to the door, his body shielding Cress from whoever had entered. Peering around his elbow, she caught sight of a palace guard outlined in the hallway’s light.

The guard was scowling as he raised a device to his mouth. “It’s just a couple of guests,” he said, his voice gruff. He nudged his chin toward Thorne and Cress. “I need to ask you to move along. All corridors and public spaces need to be cleared prior to the start of the ceremony.”

Clearing his throat, Thorne tugged down his jacket and adjusted his bow tie. “So sorry. I guess we just … got carried away.”

Cress plucked a fern leaf off Thorne’s sleeve. Heat singed her cheeks, but it was only part from mortification, and mostly from the lingering feel of his arms, his kisses, the hazy reality of the past few minutes.

“We’ll just be moving along, then.” Thorne grabbed the bug-antenna hat that had ended up on the floor and handed it to Cress, then helped her back down to the floor.

Her shaking hands fumbled to strap the antennae back onto her head.

“Thanks for letting us borrow the place,” Thorne said to the guard, winking, as they scooted into the hallway. Only once the guard was behind them did he show the slightest crack in his composure, releasing a slow breath. “Try to act natural.”

The words echoed in Cress’s head for a long moment before she could make sense of them. Act natural? Act natural? When her legs were made of noodles and her heart was about to pound right out of her chest and he’d said that he loved her, at least, in a sense. What did it even mean to act natural in the first place? When had she ever in her life known how to act natural?

So she started to laugh. A stifled snort, first. Then a rush of giggles crawling up her throat, until