The last two nights, I have dreamed of nothing but Dryas. The look in his eyes when he pulls those sounds of pleasure from my chest. The way he holds me close enough that his breath fans across my cheek, flushed scarlet with longing. His hands, seeking the parts of me that I didn’t know were so infinitely needy.

My lower body throbs at the very thought of his hands touching me, caressing me. Dryas didn’t seem confused about what was happening when he touched me.

If anything, he seemed self-assured.

Doing the math, that reaction means that he has made other women feel just like this. On one hand, I should feel relieved. If he’s made other women feel like this, make those noises, then I’m not unusual.

Another small part of me is angry, though. At him, for having done all of this before. At myself, for losing control so shamelessly.

I feel the burn of shame, deep into my core. Even now, when it’s been two days since he lay in this bed with me. Stretching out, I run my hand over the sheet.

Longing for…

What, exactly? For his solid form beneath my hand? To have him make me feel that way again?

To make him feel that way too?

Whatever I’m longing for, I feel no end of mortification over it. I correct myself every time I find my thoughts straying to his dark features or wondering what secrets his chartreuse eyes hold. Yet,

my sleeping mind will not obey instructions.

It is a stallion, roaming free. It cannot be captured and caged.

How I wish I were more like my sleeping mind.

I sit up with a sigh, throwing the duvet aside. Wandering over to the window, I sweep the curtains aside and look down onto the restless sea. The deepest shades of midnight blue eddy into lighter hues, indigo and navy, azure and turquoise. All of them swirl together, mixing to make a vast, hard to capture seascape.

My fingers twitch, wishing that I could try to draw it. A fleck of white here, a glinting bit of sunlight there. And the sun, high above, beaming merrily down on the Mediterranean landscape. It’s all so quaint and picturesque.

Turning from the window, I wander down to my walk-in closet, a sigh on my lips. I can’t decide what to wear. Little elves have been in my closet again, culling garments and adding here and there too. Presumably, they only add what Dryas likes, and take away the items he pans. I’ve never been asked about what I might like, but I don’t see any particular reason to complain.

After all, at the convent, I only had one thing to wear. After living like that for so long, having any choice at all seems like a dream.

Flipping through the dresses that have been left on the hanging rack for me, I purse my lips. Pulling down a sultry deep pink dress with a high neckline, I discard my clothes and slip into the chiffon garment. When I’m done, I fold the clothes I took off, leaving them on the chaise in the middle of the room.

I’m about to head out of the room when I find Dryas hanging just outside the doorway, a smug smile on his lips. His expression makes me narrow my eyes at him.

I don’t trust that look on him.

“What do you want?” I say, the words coming out more biting than I mean them to.

But that only makes his smile widen. “I want to go swimming.”

I frown. “You want to go swimming?”

He rolls his eyes at my tone. “Yes. You know, you, me, down by the ocean...”

Pulling a face, I shake my head. “Sorry. I’ve never seen anything in my closet for swimming.”

“But you can swim?” he asks, leaning against the doorway.

Nodding slowly, I wrap my arms across my chest. “I’m not an Olympic athlete, but I learned how. It’s been a while since I’ve been in water, though.”

“Great. We should go, then.” He pushes himself off the door’s frame, standing incredibly tall.

“You’re forgetting my earlier point.” I hug myself hard, warding off a shiver. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

He gives me an odd look. “It’s the Mediterranean, Rue. And we’re going to a private beach. You wear nothing but your skin when we get down to the water.”

For some reason, that makes me laugh nervously. His Greek accent is thick when he says nothing but your skin. It comes off as a joke, but I quickly sober when I realize that Dryas isn’t joking.

His light eyes catch mine. I swallow thickly as I realize that he is one hundred percent serious. For some reason, my eyes are drawn to his body. I remember his magnificent abs from that time that he pulled his shirt up. That was right before he showed me everything else, without reserve.

My cheeks color bright pink. No matter how much I would like to see him without clothes again, this particular endeavor would mean I would be naked before him. The very thought of there being nothing to shield me from his gaze…

The thought makes me want to curl up and die. But it also makes me curious.

“Come on,” he says, plucking my hand from my waist. He pulls me closer to him. I feel myself being sucked into that strange gravity that he carries, like a lost moon returning to its orbit. “People here swim au naturel all the time.”

“Do women really do that? I mean, it isn’t very chaste…” Even as I say it, I flush red.

“Yes. Come with me.”

I gaze up at him, falling under his thrall once again.. Lacking the words to say yes, I merely nod.

He smirks. “Good. I thought you’d be willing.”

I scowl, but he’s already pulling me down the hall and downstairs. He’s already got a couple of towels that he scoops up as we head out the door. Skirting the gravel in the driveway, we head down to the beach via the private pathway.