: Chapter 66
Alexander
It was almost a quarter to midnight by the time Fiona got back to the palace.
She had kept me updated about needing to stay late at work and her expected arrival time home, just as I had requested. And I had plenty of work to do in my office while waiting up for her. But I simply could not focus on anything all evening. I kept absentmindedly glancing at my phone every few minutes, counting down to when I would get to see her again.
When Fiona left for work this morning, there was an uncomfortable tension lingering between the two of us, and I did not like leaving things like that with her.
I considered the possibility that I was overthinking things, imagining a slight where she had not intended one. It had certainly been an eventful couple of weeks in Fiona’s life, and I knew she faced a great deal of pressure at work every day, even though an uninformed observer would never guess she experienced any stress at all underneath that careful façade of total composure that she portrayed to the world.
Maybe work finally was taking a toll on Fiona’s mood.
Maybe her coldness toward me was nothing personal.
Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all.
My intuition told me that it did, though.
And I knew the second that Fiona crossed the threshold into our bedroom that something was still, undeniably, very wrong. Her facial expression was
calm and neutral, but I could sense her energy and it did not match her face.
“Hey,” I offered meekly. “Are you alright?”
She gave me a small, tired smile as she removed and hung up her jacket. “Yes, I’m alright. Long day, obviously.”
Her answer did not invite much response. I nodded, pressing my lips together, and watched patiently as she completed her highly organized coming-home routine.
“How are you?” she asked when she stepped back out of her dressing room, having put away her briefcase and earrings. “How was your day?”
“It was great,” I lied.
“Great,” she echoed quietly. Then she went into the bathroom and closed herself inside, leaving me looking at the back of the door with an unsettled feeling.
Sometimes our relationship felt like walking a tightrope. I wanted to show Fiona care and affection, but it did not always seem to be welcome. She was a private person, seldom ever speaking about anything personal. The times that she leaned into my touch, our connection felt so good and right, even comfortable and easy. But when she shut me out like this, it left me feeling hungry and rejected, whether or not I would ever admit such a thing aloud, to her or anyone. It was not a feeling I was comfortable with.
Sometimes our relationship felt like walking a tightrope. I wanted to show Fiona care and affection, but it did not always seem to be welcome. She was a private person, seldom ever speaking about anything
personal. The times that she leaned into my touch, our connection felt so good and right, even comfortable and easy. But when she shut me out like this, it left me feeling hungry and rejected, whether or not I would ever admit such a thing aloud, to her or anyone. It was not a feeling I was comfortable with.
I paced the room, dimming the lights, and Fiona emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later with her hair brushed out, clad in a silky black nightgown.
She headed directly for bed, and I met her there.
Fiona rolled onto her side, facing away from me and fussing silently with her phone. I moved close to her to see how she would react, positioning my body right behind hers but not touching her yet. Waiting. And finally, she set her phone down on the nightstand and pulled a delicate chain on the bedside lamp to turn it off. Then, after only a moment’s hesitation, she scooted her body backward in my direction until we
were touching. I took that as permission.
I removed my clothes and had one of her nightgown straps sliding down the length of her arm a second later.
Fiona reached back with one hand, sliding it across my neck and up into my hair, and started writhing the backside of her body against me in a way that made my body flash with energy and my mind blank out with desire. My hands went to her soft, round breasts. I grazed her sensitive nipples lightly with my fingertips and she let out a soft moan.
Suddenly impatient, Fiona started grinding her hips into my lap and reached down to guide me inside of her. She was dripping wet. A growl came from deep in my chest as I entered her, and Fiona whimpered, slacking her muscles and melting back against my chest.
I grabbed her inner thigh and tightened our bodies together, removing any tiny gaps of air that had separated my skin from hers, and bent my mouth and nose to her neck. She shivered as I inhaled deeply, relishing her scent, but when I pressed my lips to her skin, she tensed a little, which surprised me.
She clutched at my hip, then, and dug her fingernails in hard, inciting a small, sharp sting of pain that riled up my wolf and sent my body into overdrive. That must have been what she wanted, because her body started shaking as I dug deeper and harder into her.
She tightened around me as she gasped and panted, moaning, and I came with her.
I slid out of her and started to lean back against the pillows, raised my hand and was about to start
stroking Fiona’s soft skin. But then she moved her body away from mine, inching over to the edge of the bed. She reached it and stood, pulled the straps of her nightgown up into place and shimmied the length of it back down over her hips, then walked to the bathroom without a word, closing and locking the door behind her.
Again I found myself bewildered, staring at the back of that door.
I let my body collapse against the bed heavily and stared up at the ceiling once again. I heard the bathtub faucet turning on a few seconds later, and then the sounds of the tub filling up with water.
So apparently she was going to take a bath.
My head started to ache with a sharp, stabbing pain behind my eye sockets. I put both my hands against
my face, pressing my eyes with my fingertips.
I thought back over the brief sexual encounter we’d just had. And the other this morning. The way she was treating me after sex was starting to make me feel like I was just a big vibrator to her, an object she only needed for an orgasm. This was the second time she had done this and I could no longer lie to myself about it not being personal.
My mind raced, trying to figure out what had gone wrong between us over the past couple days. It just didn’t make sense.
I felt like I was going crazy.