I keep walking over to him, to my king, his office a reflection of the man he is: strong wood and polished leather.
And he keeps watching me from behind his desk.
“Do you remember when I used to come into your office?” I ask him softly, my feet quiet on the hardwood floor even though everything inside of me is buzzing like it always does when we stare at each other. “Back at Heartstone?”
I’m up to the other side of his desk now, my thighs pressing into the edge of it.
For some insane reason, I was going to stop there, stop at his giant desk covered in his books and papers.
But he pushes his chair back slightly and turns it to make room for me, silently inviting me closer, and of course, I go.
I round the desk under his intense stare and approach him, approach his sprawled thighs that appear so freaking powerful and muscular even through his pants.
As soon as I’m within touching distance, Simon unwinds his fingers and reaches out an arm, grabbing my wrist. He pulls me forward and a second later, I’m sitting on his lap with my side pressing into his chest that’s only grown harder over the years and his arm that makes a tight band around my waist.
“I do, yeah,” he replies to my earlier question. “I’d watch the time constantly. Send people away, end meetings abruptly if they ran over.”
“You were obsessed with me,” I tease.
“I was.”
Chuckling, I circle my arms around his neck and toy with his thick dark hair. Well, dark sprinkled with silver that somehow makes him look even more royal and handsome.
A king ruling over his kingdom for years. Ruling over his Snow Princess, or rather his Queen now, for years too.
“I used to sit in your lap there as well,” I whisper over his shadowed jaw.
His arm flexes around me. “You still sit in my lap.”
I kiss the corner of his mouth. “Even after twenty years.”
His other hand creeps up and into my loose silver hair. He tilts my head back slightly and kisses the corner of my mouth in answer to mine. “You’ll sit in my lap after another twenty too.”
My chest fills up with pounding heartbeats.
I don’t know how he can do this to me even after two decades of being together, but he does. In fact, he does it even more now.
With every year that passes, with every new thing that I discover about him, I fall for him even more. I think it’s endless and bottomless, this falling for him.
Rubbing my nose with his, I whisper, “You know, you aren’t half bad in the romance department if you apply yourself.”
One side of his mouth tugs up and I run my finger over the lines, the tracks of his smile. “I’ve learned from the best.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.” He eyes lower to my nightgown. “From my Snow Princess.”
I have his favorite nightgown on, a white, frilly thing that he likes. He tells me I look exactly like a snow princess in it, his Snow Princess.
And then, I have to kiss him when he’s being so sweet, my Ice King.
My husband is wonderful all the time but when he’s actually using his own words to express himself, there’s no stopping the hot rush in my blood.
When we break our kiss and come up for air, I whisper, “I love you.”
He swallows, his eyes getting cloudy. “Still?”
I nod, letting all my love for him show in my gaze. “Always.”
Instead of calming him down though, it agitates him. His chest undulates against my body in a harsh breath. The jaw that I’ve been kissing tics as he clenches his teeth.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers harshly, shaking his head in self-disgust. “Like I’m a hero or something. Not after tonight.”
God.
Simon has a very strict sense of moral code. I’ve battled with it many times in the past and I knew this wouldn’t be any different.
Sometimes I wish that he wasn’t so good, so fucking good, to the point that he tortures himself with it. Sometimes I wish I could tuck him inside my heart and keep him there forever, so he’s at peace.
Sighing, I cup his hard jaw. “What happened tonight?”
His reply is to clench that jaw again.
“Talk to me,” I urge.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
I sigh again and put pressure on his cheek so he knows I’m not taking no for an answer. “Simon, what happened tonight?”
His eyes become even more anguished, if possible. “He’s not good enough for her.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because he’s too old for her.”
“And?”
His arm around me flexes again and he frowns thunderously. “And she’s too young. She’s barely eighteen. She doesn’t know what love is. She’s just infatuated. She’s only been in college for what, four months? She hasn’t even seen what other options she has. There are other guys out there. She needs to wait.”