Chapter Eleven - Ella
Dinner was served in a different room tonight. I kept the green dress and the heels on, adding just a bit more makeup and a gold clip to my hair. Tristan’s face when he saw me said it had been the right choice. His eyes lingered on my legs and then my neck, making me feel hot and flushed under his gaze. Even just his eyes on me turned me on, making me think of how his hands on me had felt, making me desperate to have them all over me again.
I’d thought of it all day as I explored the palace, getting flashes of last night and the way it had felt. I could almost still feel his tongue on me, could still feel all of him, and it made me want even more. I was soaked thinking about it, about what we could do tonight. I crossed my legs in my chair and ran my hands over my thighs, trying to pace myself, to enjoy dinner first. To not let him know how desperate for him I was. But something in his eyes told me he already knew, so I took a long gulp of wine and a deep breath.
“Did you enjoy yourself today?” he asked, eyes intent on me over his own wine glass. I nodded.
“Your palace is beautiful,” I said, and then smiled, thinking of this morning. “The art in your wing is stunning. Did you really pick it out yourself?”
“I’d like to think I have a good eye for beautiful things,” he said, grinning at me quickly like he wanted to make sure I caught his meaning. I flushed. “For most of my life, it was old and stale, like living inside a textbook. I wanted something more my style, so I sought out new works, things I actually wanted to look at every day.”
“It’s an amazing collection,” I said. There was something so sexy about the idea that Tristan cared so much about his surroundings. That he took so much time to make them the best. I found it utterly fascinating.
“Do you know much about art?” Tristan asked, tilting his head at me. His cheekbones looked sculpted and breathtaking in the dim evening light.
“Only from the few university classes I’ve taken. I’m hardly an expert,” I said. He smiled.
“It seems like you’ve studied many things you haven’t actually experienced,” he observed.
“That’s very true, I’ve read about so much I haven’t seen. Other countries, music, art,” I said, nodding. I felt sometimes as though I had spent most of my life reading about life instead of living it. I told myself it was better that way, that I did not mind, but truthfully, sitting here across from a devastatingly handsome prince in a palace, I knew I had always wanted more.
“Romance?” Tristan suggested.
“What?” I asked, feeling a little thrown.
“Something you’ve read about, but not experienced yourself, I imagine,” Tristan said, still studying me, looking at me like I was one of the intricate paintings in his hallway.
“Oh, yes,” I admitted, nodding. “My mother is a true romantic. She loves those stories. There are stacks of old books in her bedroom. I used to read them when I was young.”
“Not now?” he asked. I shook my head.
“Not in years. She likes them a lot more than I do. They’re not really my style,” I said, thinking of the books my mother had. They were all the same, and the older I got, the less I’d enjoyed them. All of her books were full of old-fashioned courtship, with gentleman callers sweeping into town bringing gifts and flowers to lonely women, horseback rides, chaste kisses, and wedding days without any mentions of the nights that followed. It had been a long time since that sounded like anything I could ever want.
“Do you prefer things with more action?” Tristan asked, smirking a little. It was a good look for his features, I thought, the way it lit up his eyes.
“I think I do,” I said.
“I can tell,” he said, leaning closer to me. “You seem desperate for action in your life.”
“So do you,” I countered, biting my lip at the way he’d said desperate. Like he knew I’d been thinking about him all day, knew how much I wanted him. “You’ve also read about many things you’ve never done.”
“I have,” he agreed. “There are also many things I have done that I want to show you.”
“Show me?” I repeated, swallowing.
“Experiences we could share,” he said, “that I could give you.”
“I want new experiences,” I said. I wasn’t sure I understood all of his meaning, but I was sure we were talking about sex, and I was certain I liked it.
“That’s good to hear,” he said, smirking at me again, his eyes burning into me. I thought I could just stay right there, under his eyes, for hours, just letting him look at me like that. I thought all I wanted in the world was for dinner to be over so he could touch me again.
“I want you to know how much I’m enjoying being here,” I said, biting my lip. “Last night and today were wonderful.”
“I am very much enjoying having you here,” Tristan said, low and rumbling, and I felt his words in every inch of my skin.
“Good,” I said, hoping my smile back looked confident and sincere, not shaky.
“I hope it is everything you imagined, everything you wanted,” Tristan said, smiling back, almost another smirk.
“So far it has been more,” I admitted, thinking of last night, of how his hands had felt on my skin. Of what he had made me feel and how much I liked it.
All of the dinner felt like a lead-up, like some kind of dance we were doing to get to our destination. We ate quickly, and talked more about the palace, about the things I had seen today. The whole time, Tristan kept saying things that sounded like they were about more than furniture, that sounded like they were about me and about sex. I found myself even more flushed than the night before, enjoying his company even as badly as I wanted the evening to hurry past. I wanted Tristan so badly, wanted him to fuck me, and I wanted to make him moan, wanted to have him in my mouth, to feel my cheeks and lips stretched with his cock.
I hoped that tonight I would have the chance.