Page 43 of Markets & Mooncakes

"Very," he promises. "Your mattress is much better than mine."

Disappointment wells up within me at his reason. "Oh."

"But I think having you with me is the best part," he assures me, soothing those feelings away in moments.

"I liked that too," I respond.

"How are you feeling?" he asks. "About last night?"

"Good," I assure him. "I feel good about it."

His eyes crack open, and he looks at me with hooded brown eyes. "You don't feel uncomfortable?"

"No. I liked it. I liked making you feel good," I promise him, taking a moment before saying the next words. "And I liked you touching me. I didn't know that I could feel like that."

"You were very responsive," he agrees.

"Does that change how I see sex?" I ask.

"I think you're the only person who can really answer that," he says. "But I don't think so. Enjoying me touching you doesn't change whether you think about it and want it at any given time. Last night you were just...in the moment."

"And you think that's all right?" I bite my bottom lip. I'm not sure why this is bothering me, especially when I woke up feeling good about it.

"I think your relationship with sex is your own, Evie." He trails his hand down my arm. "But I don't think it changes anything if you enjoyed it while we were together. Maybe it's something you should think about."

I nod, knowing that he's probably right. "I will. Think about it, I mean. But I think I know that I would like to do it again at some point. Both parts."

He takes a shaky breath and pulls away slightly. "Yes, I would very much like that too."

I frown. "Then why...oh."

He laughs. "It seems like it might take a while for me to get used to talking about this with you without having a reaction."

"I don't mind," I say, putting a hand on his chest. "That you react to thinking about me thinking about us."

"I'm glad, because I'm going to be thinking about last night a lot," he murmurs. "I'm glad there's no banquet tonight."

"We're making mooncakes tonight," I remind him.

He nods and opens his mouth to say something, but the doorknob twists before he can.

I sit up immediately, trying to think of what the intrusion might mean and who might be on the other side.

"Your Highness," Betsy calls out through the door, not seeming too concerned about the fact that it's locked. I suppose that she left the room after Nate arrived, and the tray he brought up with him is still in the other room. That's probably given her an indication of what happened last night.

Heat floods to my cheeks. It's not even the wrong conclusion to jump to.

"Is that the time?" Nate asks, his eyes wide.

"It must be. Is something wrong?"

"I need to go," he responds. "I should be down in the kitchen already." He throws the covers away, and I take a moment to properly admire his chest, never actually having seen it before.

He grabs his clothing and dresses quickly.

"I'm sorry for keeping you," I say, trying not to be too disappointed that he has to leave already.

"It's not your fault," he says as he comes back to the bed. The mattress dips under his weight as he leans over and kisses me, lingering a moment longer than necessary. "And I don't regret it," he adds, the words vibrating against my lips.