“But I hurt you, like with Sherry.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “You were always doing your thing and just assumed stuff for us, like not telling me were mates. It felt—it made me feel as if…” I trailed off and shook my head. “But Mr. Rothchild said something today that made me want to talk to you. He said I should maybe see the difference now between a prince who truly treats people as pawns, and his to do with as he wants, and one who just messed up.”
“I want to kick him for getting involved, but maybe give him a raise if it helped,” he grumbled. “Did it?”
“Yes. You were going to take Neldor’s head for disrespecting me, no matter the trouble it caused. One prince to another or whatever, you didn’t care. It wasn’t about your lack of respect for me, but you’re a fucking twit, which I do see you’re trying to really grow up and mature about. I don’t know what to do now, but I wanted to say…”
“Thank you,” he whispered, reaching across the table and offering his hand. He let out a shaky breath when I placed mine in his. “I know what you’re trying to say, I do, and thank you.”
“I don’t know what comes next, and you’re still a fucking twit,” I admitted.
His lips twitched. “I know that. I do. I fucked it all up so badly, but I swear to you that it was always with the right intentions or because of my own confusion. I would have done it all differently, and I understand why you didn’t tell me, but now knowing you’re a fairy made me want to… Gods, Tamsin, I was destroyed I handled it all so wrong.”
“Mr. Rothchild told me, and it sounded like I’d missed a lot.”
“Just because we’re mates doesn’t mean you have to handle my problems because I fuck up.”
I nodded, but that didn’t sound right to me. I hoped he’d be there for me and try to understand if I fucked up.
“I said something that upset you,” he muttered after we moved on from our salads to a pasta dish.
I wasn’t sure if it was the best thing to do, but I still told him my thoughts because I wanted us to be able to be honest. We should be, right? I mean, we were as friends who hooked up and even if we were working back to fixing our friendship—leaving the whole being mates pile of issues to deal with for later—I wanted us to be able to talk to each other.
“I’d be there for you, and understand,” he said easily, shrugging. “You didn’t grow up knowing about mates and don’t understand the bond. All you’ve seen is it’s a burden or trap. I would like you to help me too. You have, and been incredibly understanding of what I’m dealing with, especially how River handles it all… But you don’t have to. That’s what I’m saying.”
That made me smile and sounded much better. Yeah, talking things out was best, even if it made me want to vomit and run screaming most times.
I filled him in on the rest while we ate, and he caught me up on some of the stuff going on with the dragons in his territory.
“I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a walk since I know you like the view, but I didn’t want you to feel as if I’m turning this into a date when you asked to talk,” he muttered when I stood. Then he blurted out something before I could even reply. “And I miss talking in your head. Our heads.”
“Maybe soon,” I whispered, missing it too, but not forgetting how intimate it was, and we weren’t there yet.
He moved closer, partially boxing me against the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m also dying to kiss you, but I’m scared you’ll regret me, or what we do, like with Craftsman, and it’s like killed him.”
I sighed. For one, I wanted to smack him for bringing up another man when the timing to kiss me had been so perfect. Two, men were just… Idiots. “I don’t know what I feel about all of that, but you’re not him, and our situation is different.”
“It is,” he agreed, slowly lowering his head to mine, giving me ample time to stop him if I wanted.
But I didn’t. I missed Hudson.
I missed his kisses and his large hands on my body. I missed talking to him about everything, like today. I missed a hundred different things, because he had truly been my friend, no matter how we had really met and gotten together.
His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but when I didn’t push him away or break the kiss, he stayed and took more. He leaned in and put his hand on my hip, deepening the kiss before abruptly breaking it off. “This is okay? You’re sure? I’m not—”
“Shut up, twit,” I growled and pulled him back down.
That seemed to be all the green light he needed, pressing me into the windows and attacking my mouth. That wasn’t enough for him after a few minutes, and he lifted me up under my ass and carried me over to one of the sofas. I swallowed a yelp as he dumped me on it and opened my mouth to say something when he reached to take off his shirt.
But then a miracle happened.
He stopped, shaking his head. “No, wait, clothes stay on. Yeah, smart, I want you for way more than sex, though fuck, I so miss our sex. We can have lots more. You’re more important. Doing this right is more important. Clothes on.” He
