Every Rose Has It's Thorn

Every Rose Has It's Thorn Chapter 24

Word Count 2,944

A hum of contentment eased from my lips as I sank into the bath, willing the warm currents to lap at my skin. For a blissful moment I did nothing but fall lax against the tub, watching dainty droplets fall upon glass amid the winter fog and leaden sky. The gentle tapping of rain on the window soothed my ears and calmed my heart.

Upon our arrival back to the palace after the visiting with Tink, I sought the remedy of a cleanse above all else. My handmaidens had rushed to prepare hot water while some others helped me undress before guiding me to the bath. Rose petals drifted idly around me on the surface of the rippling water. The mild scent of mineral salts filled my nostrils and I relished in the feel of steam caressing my exposed flesh, forming cool beads upon contact. 

My personal bathing chambers had become one of my favorite destinations in the palace. By day, my eyes would feast on the flora of Cleveland's lavish gardens and the intricate tapestries integrated into the drawing room decor. By night I would arrive here, bask in the rare solitude and admire the architecture, mesmerizing for a room as simple as one's lavatory. No matter how much I still resented my father for pledging me to a stranger, I would not deny the advantages of marrying into royalty; luxuries such as this had played a great part in easing me into life with the Colson. 

When my eyes slipped shut, the scene of Colson began to play inside my mind. I opened them again, surprised and angered at myself for allowing my thoughts to drift. My reflection in the mirror stared back at me, features twisted in disgust. I tried to relax, tried to draw my attentions elsewhere before my eyelids once again grew heavy.

His gaze flitted to my lips. Fire burned in my cheeks. A little thrill traveled along my spine and into the crevice between my legs.  

My fingers thrummed the porcelain rim of the tub. An inexplicable restlessness overtook me as the water grew hot around my skin, seeming to press and shift and skim across my sensitive flesh. I lifted a leg above the surface and gasped at the cool air that swept across my knee, and the sudden brush of water upon the juncture between my thighs. 

Against my own will, the powerful rhythm of his heartbeat on my own flooded my memories. His touch on my arms, his form on top of me, burning my flesh. The confusion and anger towards him and most of all, towards myself that had boiled my blood. A maddening myriad of relief, fury and sorrow churned inside of me, entangled with the damned lust coursing through my veins. And most of all, the intimate rise and fall of his breath mingled with my own and the appreciation- no, happiness I had felt when he had saved me. I saw the concern in his gaze, the tenderness in his eyes as they bore into mine. The ticklish tendrils of hair on my face. The alluring musk that emanated from him. The blood he had spilt for me. 

It was all for me. I am his and he should be mine-

But he wasn't. I often wondered how many times the notorious three words could fall from his lips before I would truly believe them. He told me he loved me, that he wanted me more than any other - and yet I doubted him. How could I believe the words of a silvertongue? How could I trust a trickster when I could not afford to lose all I had sought to achieve since my coming here? How could I love a man who'd whispered intimate promises he could never keep. 

I barely suppressed a gasp as my fingers brushed experimentally across the throbbing heat of my core. Shame and resentment fueled my needy movements, overpowered by the pleasure that accompanied each wanton stroke. I felt my own wetness, the result of my desire as my fingertips glided along the slit with growing intensity. A whimper escaped my throat at the burning touch of my own digits moving deep inside me, establishing a feverish rhythm that wound my muscles tight and slackened my jaw.