The games continued for weeks.
I tried everything: accidental touches that lingered too long, lingering looks across the dinner table, outfits that left little to the imagination. I wore swimsuits that barely covered anything and found excuses to be near the pool when he was there. I read in the library wearing short robes that gaped when I reached for high shelves. I even arranged for us to be alone in the garden at sunset, wearing a sundress that the evening breeze did wonderful things with.
Eric noticed everything.
I saw it in the way his pupils dilated whenever I entered a room. I saw it in the way his hands clenched at his sides when I brushed past him. I saw it in the way his voice dropped an octave when he spoke to me, rough with restraint. I saw the hunger in his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way he gripped his bourbon glass like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to sanity.
But he never acted. Never touched. Never took what I was so obviously offering.
It was maddening.
One afternoon, I found him by the pool. He'd just finished swimming and stood at the edge, water dripping down his sculpted chest, his swim trunks sitting low on his hips. I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
I'd worn my most revealing bikini, tiny scraps of black fabric that left nothing to the imagination. I walked toward him slowly, letting him watch me approach.
"Hot day," I said, my voice casual.
His eyes traveled over me, hot and appreciative. But he didn't move.
I dove into the pool, swimming a few laps, aware of his gaze following me. When I emerged, climbing out slowly, water streaming down my body, I expected him to pounce;
He handed me a towel. "You'll catch cold."
I wanted to scream.
"You're impossible," I snapped that night, after a particularly elaborate seduction attempt involving a candlelit dinner where I'd worn a dress so revealing it should have been illegal. I'd fed him grapes. I'd let my foot slide up his leg under the table. I'd practically sat in his lap.
And he'd just smiled. That slow, knowing smile that made my knees weak and my blood boil.
"I'm practically throwing myself at you, and you just stand there!"
He leaned back in his chair, completely at ease. "You're not throwing yourself. You're hinting. There's a difference."
"What do you want from me?" I demanded, my voice cracking with frustration.
He stood, crossing to me in three long strides. Finally, finally, he touched me, just his hand on my cheek, gentle as a whisper. "I told you. I want you to ask. Honestly, openly, without games. I want you to admit that you want this, want me, as much as I want you."
I stared at him, my pride warring with something deeper, something I'd been trying to ignore for weeks. "I can't just say it."
"Why not?"
"Because I swallowed hard. Because if I say it, then it's real. Then I can't pretend anymore that this is just circumstance, just captivity, just survival."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. He stepped closer, his body heat enveloping me. "Go on."
"If I admit I want you, then I'm choosing this. Choosing you. And that terrifies me." The words came out broken, raw. "Because if I choose you and it goes wrong, I have no one to blame but myself. As long as I'm just a captive, I'm not responsible for my own feelings."
His thumb traced my cheekbone, feather-light. "I know you're scared, Seraphina. I know this isn't what you planned. But I need you to understand something. I'm not Daniel. I won't use your feelings against you. I won't hurt you. I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret choosing me."
Tears pricked my eyes. "You can't promise that."
"I can. I do." He leaned closer, his forehead resting against mine. "Tell me what you want. Not what you think you should want. Not what's safe. What you truly want. In this moment, with me."
The walls I'd built for months, for years, crumbled. "You," I whispered. "I want you."
"Say it properly."
"I want you, Eric. Please." My voice broke. "Please don't make me beg you. I need you now."
The growl that escaped him was primal, victorious. He lifted me in his arms, carrying me toward the bedroom. "Finally," he murmured against my lips. "God, woman, I've been dying for weeks."
"And you couldn't have just taken the hint?"
"I don't take hints. I take declarations." He lay me on the bed, his body covering mine. "And you just declared yourself, Seraphina. There's no going back now."
"I don't want to go back."
"Good." His kiss was devastating. "Because I'm never letting you go."
He lay me on the bed, his body covering mine, and kissed me with a passion that left me breathless. His hands explored my curves, learning every inch of me, while mine tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only him, only this, only us.
When we finally came together, it was everything I'd imagined and more. He was intense, passionate, overwhelming, but also tender, careful, and reverent. He worshipped my body like it was sacred, and I gave myself to him completely.
"Tell me," he breathed against my skin. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," I gasped. "I'm yours, Eric."
"Mine." His voice was rough with emotion. "Forever."
"Forever."
Afterward, we lay tangled together, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my skin. "I've waited twelve years for that," he murmured. "It was worth every second."
I laughed softly. "Twelve years? You've been waiting that long?"
"Since I saw you in the park, feeding that dog your lunch. You were so beautiful, so kind. I knew in that moment that you were the one." He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "I just had to wait until you were ready to see me, too."
I turned in his arms, studying his face in the dim light. "What if I'd never been ready? What if I'd married Daniel?"
"Then I would have watched over you from afar forever. Your happiness was always more important than mine." He smiled, that slow, devastating smile. "But I'm very glad it worked out this way."
I kissed him softly. "So am I."