A Thirst Only She Could Quench

"There's no one here."

At the hushed voice, Ervan poked his head out past the door of the fabric warehouse. He could see the employee who had found the broken vase beckoning to the others waiting in the break room at the end of the corridor. Young staff looking every bit as rattled as Laila came crowding out, and together they set about clearing away the pieces.

"We got worked up over nothing."

"Right? For a second there I was mentally deciding who to blame."

"Phew."

"Honestly, I thought this vase would shatter on its own one day. A mouth this wide and a neck this long — what sense does that even make?"

"That's the head tailor's taste for you. The noble lords seem to love it."

The employees, their liveliness restored, began chattering away again — though with somewhat more caution than before. Ervan watched until the ones who had tidied away every last shard filed back into their break room. Laila still stood with her eyes squeezed shut.

"You may open your eyes now, Grand Duchess."

Ervan murmured. Laila did not answer, and he did not press her, simply waiting with patient stillness. Only after a long while did she cautiously crack her eyes open.

…

Ervan's hard, broad chest was pressed flush against the softness of Laila's own. As she stirred in his arms, his eyes slid open to slits.

"Grand Duchess, if you move like that—"

His words never reached their end. The sound of employees filing out of the break room, their rest hour over, drifted in from the corridor.

"Anyone coming to the fabric warehouse with me? Anyone with free hands?"

"Me."

Laila's eyes, which had begun to tremble finely, turned toward Ervan.

He calmly surveyed the interior of the warehouse. The narrow space, its bolts of fabric arranged with immaculate care, offered no decent place to hide. Ervan gestured toward the shadow behind the half-open door.

"It will serve as our blind spot."

White-faced, Laila carefully tucked herself into hiding. Ervan smoothed down the hem of her skirt where it peeked out beneath the door, then pressed in close beside her. Footsteps were drawing nearer. Instinctively, Laila wrapped her arms around Ervan's waist and hauled him toward her — a desperate bid to hide the enormous man by any means she could.

"I was seriously startled, you know. I thought someone had been eavesdropping on us."

"You never know — someone really might have been listening. What if they're still hiding somewhere in here right now?"

"Maybe."

Giggles rang out. Laila coaxed herself, trying to settle her pounding heart.

'Calm down. Even if we're caught, it's all right. I can turn back time and make it as if nothing ever happened.'

After what felt like an eternity to her, the employees finally emerged from the warehouse, arms laden with fabric. Laila stayed frozen, still holding Ervan, until the receding footsteps had vanished entirely.

Just as she felt the silence settle completely around them, another sound reached her ears.

It was Ervan's ragged breathing.

Startled, Laila hurriedly apologized — only then realizing how closely they were pressed together, close enough for his breath to brush her skin.

"…Viscount, I'm sorry. I—"

She slowly loosened her arms from around him. Perhaps because of her flustered apology, Ervan made no reply. It was the moment Laila tilted her face up to look at him.

His golden eyes, glinting all the brighter for the dimness of the warehouse, snared her gaze. The instant their eyes met, Laila froze on the spot as though bewitched.

…

It was an intensity that made her forget even to breathe. Deep in Ervan's eyes, held wholly within her gaze, a terrible thirst shimmered. Instinctively, Laila understood that she alone could quench it.

"Grand Duchess."

Ervan gently took hold of her chin. Then, without pause, he bowed his head and pressed his lips to hers. Laila stood rooted to the spot like someone turned to stone, until his lips came down over hers a second time.

"…Hah… Ervan."

The instant their lips met, the spell seemed to shatter, and she could move again. She reached out and wound her arms around his waist once more. The slick, indecent sound of wet lips sliding against each other filled the warehouse.

Ervan's tongue parted her closed lips with slow, sensual ease and pushed inside, ravaging her mouth without restraint. It was a punishing kiss. His greedy tongue, laying waste to the soft depths of her mouth, showed no sign of ever letting her go.

Every sensation in Laila's body seemed to go numb, and yet a strange, tingling ache bloomed everywhere her skin met his. Ervan released her chin, curled his hand lightly around her nape instead, and drew her closer. He was desperate to touch more of her, even a fraction more. The thirst he had believed swallowing her would slake was only sharpening into a fiercer hunger.

'If only I could swallow her deeper — completely, all the way to the very end.'

Ervan's movements grew fiercer still, until Laila was outright gasping for breath. She let go of his waist, balled her fists, and pounded them against him in a futile effort to push him away — but Ervan was far too preoccupied with sating his own hunger. Just as she began to feel she could bear it no longer, he slowly released her. A thin silver thread stretched long between their lips.

"Viscount!"

Dragging in the breath she had been starved of, Laila shot him a glare.

"I told you to — to stop partway through…"

"I fully intended to, but I thought I heard people outside."

Laila, scandalized by the sheer audacity of the answer, was just about to give him a piece of her mind when Ervan tugged at his sleeve and gently dabbed at her lips.

"So I helped, in case you were about to make a sound, Grand Duchess."

He was grinning from ear to ear. The satisfaction written all over his face left her speechless with exasperation — and she was too breathless to argue anyway.

"I'm glad it proved so helpful."

She had never known a sly face could be so maddening. Her legs had nearly given out beneath her, and with the strange heat smoldering low in her belly refusing to fade, Laila stalked out of the warehouse with brisk, furious strides. Ervan trotted faithfully at her heels, smoothing the wrinkles from her rumpled skirt.

"They say to return in a week. The fitted garments will need checking, apparently."

"Then we'll see them again in a week."

Laila said coldly, but Ervan paid it no mind and spoke again.

"I know a fine restaurant nearby. I've already reserved a table."

"Viscount, now that I look at you properly, you're not merely rude — you're utterly shameless as well?"

Laila couldn't hold back the jab, but Ervan only laughed aloud, looking thoroughly delighted.

"I've learned how to fillet a fish, so now teach me how to carve meat."

It was absurd, yet in the end Laila did not refuse. Why was that? Why couldn't she bring herself to hate this man's shamelessness?

In the end, Laila—

"…Just this once. I won't be teaching you twice, so watch closely and learn."

—pretending she had simply been worn down, followed after him.

"Of course, Grand Duchess."

Ervan strode ahead of her, laughing cheerfully. There was still so much he meant to ask her to teach him.

It proved a thoroughly satisfying meal. The chef's special sauce happened to suit Laila's palate perfectly, and she cleared her plate of steak without leaving so much as a bite.

For dessert she took small spoonfuls of the gelato, and the sweet fragrance of strawberry filled her mouth. Watching her, Ervan took a bite of his own in imitation — then set his spoon down with a deep frown.

"It's far too sweet."

"That's precisely what makes it delicious, no?"

"If it wouldn't be a breach of etiquette, may I leave it uneaten?"

Laila gave a soft laugh and nodded. Then, after a brief hesitation, she asked—

"It would be a breach of etiquette, but… may I eat yours?"

Without a word, Ervan held out his portion of gelato to her. Once she had finished her own and begun on his, Ervan — who had been watching her in silence — finally spoke.

"Grand Duchess, have you no intention of becoming the Grand Duke?"