I’m not surprised when I feel the hard jab of an elbow sink into my stomach. The air whooshes out of me, but as soon as I catch my breath I’m laughing. Paedyn huffs and I tug her closer to me, using this game as an excuse to hold her, touch her.
Her head rests on my chest as she examines the target, breathing deeply. And I’m doing the same. My chest heaves, the feel of her against me almost too much to breathe properly. We fit together so perfectly, so right. I can hardly think, or breathe, or move when my fingers glide across her skin, her waist, her body.
Then, she lifts her head, lifts her bow, and lets the arrow fly. Bullseye. But barely. I lean down and rest my chin on her shoulder once again, admiring the arrow that finally made it to its mark. “It’s about time, Gray.”
“Let’s see you do any better,” she scoffs, pulling away as I reluctantly let her. I sigh and grab an arrow, settling it onto my bow. I fire quickly, hitting the ring closest to the bullseye, swearing under my breath. Then I grab another, determined to make the arrow land where I want it to.
Something brushes my arm, a whisper against my skin.
My head whips to the side, eyes crashing into blue ones below. She looks up at me through her lashes, eyes burning into mine, full of fire. Her hand hovers just above the exposed skin on my arm, teasing without touching.
“What are you doing, Gray?” I ask, turning my attention back towards the target.
“Distracting,” she says slowly, drawing out the syllables. Her hand brushes my arm again, lightly. So lightly.
I smile. “Darling, you’re going to have to do better than that.”
“No,” she says coolly, “I don’t think I do.”
The tips of her fingers meet my skin. She lets them trail down my arm, stopping at my wrist before making their way back up, painfully slow. Her fingers find their way under the sleeve of my cotton shirt, climbing up and up and—
Gone.
Her touch vanishes, leaving me aching for her to lay her hands on me—
That’s when it hits me.
She’s right. She doesn’t need to do anything more to distract me.
The mere thought of her being so close and barely touching me has my head spinning. I’m melted by the promise that her fingers gave me, promise of more, promise of something. Nothing. She won’t lay her hands on me. Instead, she’ll drive me mad by teasing me with her touch, only to pull it away, leaving me wanting more. Leaving me cold without the fire her fingers trail along my skin.
I exhale, noticing how shaky the action sounds, how shaky my body has become. I pull back the bowstring as another finger traces under my forearm, grazing my skin.
My arrow lands two whole rings away from the center but my mind is elsewhere, on the phantom touches making their way up and down my arm. I don’t remember grabbing another arrow, but it’s nocked onto my bow when I look down.
Slowly, so damn slowly, she lets her fingers slide over my skin, heavier than before. A single touch has never made me feel so on fire. And she knows exactly what she is doing. She knows that barely feeling her at all will drive me mad in a way I can’t explain, in a way I’ve never felt before.
“You’re a cruel, little thing, you know that?” My voice is deep, desperate.
“But I’ve barely laid a finger on you,” she says softly, emphasizing her words with a single finger tracing up my forearm.
“Exactly.”
Maybe I did it on purpose. Maybe I chose to distract her because I knew she was too stubborn to not do the same to me. Maybe I did it all just because I wanted her hands on me too. Because it was an excuse for me to hold her, for her to hold me. And now that she isn’t, I’m craving her touch. Craving her.
I fire the arrow, not bothering to wait and see where it lands before I’ve thrown my bow to the ground, spun around, and gripped her wrists instead. I pull her towards me, staring into her startled eyes. Her lips part, either in surprise or because she’s about to tell me off, I’m not sure.
“Don’t,” I pause, swallow, exhale slowly, “play with me like that.”
She stares at me. Her mouth opens and closes again, clearly hoping words will fall out. I hold her gaze as I guide one of her hands to my arm, dropping her other wrist to pull her closer by the waist. Her palm meets my skin and it’s almost like I remembered how to breathe again. I press my hand on top of hers, holding her skin firmly against mine. I smile now that she’s finally, fully touching me, rather than taunt me with tips of teasing fingers.
A single touch from her, or the lack of it, is enough to drive me mad.
What has she done to me?
I take my hand off hers, fingers trailing down her arm before dropping it to my side. But she doesn’t drop hers, instead leaving her palm in place. She stares at where her skin meets mine before her gaze finally trails up to my face. She smirks, but it’s as weak as her voice. “I didn’t realize a single touch could affect you so much.”
“Neither did I.”
Her eyes dart away from mine, almost looking timid as she lets her hand trace down my arm before dropping it completely. Then she cranes her neck, looking around me at the target behind.
She smiles at what she sees.
“You lost, Azer.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Paedyn
“Focus, Paedyn. Just calm down and focus. You can do this.”
I nod in response to Kitt’s reassuring words, shutting my eyes before taking a deep breath. After a moment, I peek at him and nod again. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Kitt heaves a dramatic sigh, his eyes filled with amusement. Then he says, slowly, “Three...” I smile knowingly back at him. “Two...” I tilt my head up. “One.”
In a flash, he throws something into the air. I open my mouth expectantly, ready to savor the sweetness of the chocolate, only for it to land on my nose before bouncing off onto the floor.
Kitt’s laughter echoes off the walls of the busy kitchen, and I catch the servants smiling at the familiar sound. He holds a hand up to me when I start to speak, clearly needing a moment to collect himself before he looks at me. But when he finally straightens and meets my gaze, he’s laughing again.
“Okay, so my coordination when it comes to catching food in my mouth isn’t...great,” I mumble, unable to stop my smile from spreading.
“Isn’t great?” Kitt runs a hand through his messy hair, still choking on laughter. “Tell that to Gail who has wasted half her chocolates on you.”
I cross my arms defiantly. “Well, you didn’t catch every chocolate either, Your Majesty.”
Kitt leans closer and flashes me a smile. “True. But I at least ate the evidence. You, on the other hand,” his gaze slides to the floor now littered with sweets, “did not.”