I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back until I was kneeling so she could sink down over my cock.

“Christ,” I cursed as I pushed her hair over her shoulder and ran the back of my hand down her side to where we were joined.

As I watched the two people in the mirror, it was hard to imagine them as anyone other than a man and woman enjoying each other—and that was exactly what I was doing. Enjoying the fuck out of her.

“Look at you,” I encouraged, now beyond any delusions.

This woman I was with—this gorgeous, sensual woman whose body was made to take mine—was spectacular. As her hands caressed her breasts and she watched us together, nothing could have convinced me that this was wrong.

My fingers found her clit and rubbed it gently, causing her hips to buck and a cry to leave her.

“Look at you sitting here with your legs spread and my cock so fucking deep I don’t think I’ll ever leave. Jesus, Addison. I thought you were perfect before. Now I fucking know it.”

I watched her shake her head in denial as she rocked on me. “Not perfect, never perfect. Again, do it again.”

I held her hip and plunged up into her as she continued murmuring, “Not perfect, never perfect.”

“Addison,” I whispered.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror as she continued to repeat herself, so I thrust inside her again and made her moan instead.

“Perfect for me. Look at us, and tell me this is not fucking perfection.”

She watched carefully as I moved under her, and when her fingers pinched her nipples, I brushed my thumb over her clit. I could see my cock each time I pulled out of her and then watched as it disappeared again between her folds. That was when I felt her muscles clamp around me.

My own climax hit me, and I shouted out her name. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she bit her lip as her body tensed and she screamed mine. Together, we gave in like two warriors who’d just surrendered to the ultimate fight.

Chapter Fourteen

Present…

Fairy tales don’t exist. I don’t know why we’re told stories about them as girls.

Why set us up for disappointment?

There’s a library here at Pine Groves. It’s a small room with three rows of books. Fictional books.

Books full of made-up characters in their make-believe stories.

That’s how I feel right now. Fictional.

I finger the spine of one and read the title before pulling it from the shelf. I run my hand over the cover and flip it open, skimming through the pages.

Tick, tick, tock.

There’s a clock on the wall in here. Doc had them put one up for me. He knows I like to come here to think. Which leads me to believe that he probably put this book on the shelf too. The Other Boleyn Girl—well, who cared about her anyway? No one cares about the other child when the most important one is gone.

Annoyed, I put it back on the shelf, searching for something very specific instead. The dictionary.

I open it and turn the pages until I reach the letter F.

F, for fairy tales.

As my eyes run over the definition, I’m left with a sense of clarity.

My parents weren’t setting me up for disappointment. They just presented the facts wrong.

Fairy tales are stories full of the unimaginable.

Why not tell the truth? That it’s all a lie.

They are nothing but stories to mislead and deceive us into thinking we can have what we want.

I’m not allowed to have what I want.

I can’t have the prince…because I am the unimaginable.

I’m the catalyst in the destruction of my own happy ending.

If only someone had warned the prince.

Tick, tick, tock.

* * *

Past…

I could see Grayson from where I was reclining on his king-sized bed. He was silently observing me from a leather chair in the corner of his room behind a dark wooden desk.

I’d stolen his shirt so he was left only in jeans, and when I nuzzled into the collar, I could smell him. Yes, I’d been right. It was the smell of hot sex.

“I like your photographs,” I said, inspecting the black-and-white stills on his walls. There were three on the far left, which I recognized right away.

The Pantheon, The Colosseum, and The Sistine Chapel.

“Did you take all of these?”

His eyes moved to the images hanging vertically.

“Yes. Last summer.”

I scooted over to the edge of the bed but kept my attention on him as I stood. Pushing my hair behind my ears, I strolled over on bare feet and stopped in front of them.

I ran my finger along the ruins of The Colosseum before turning to him. He had one foot resting on his knee and his fingers steepled over his naked abdomen.

I’d never been in the presence of a man so incredibly sexy.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, curious about everything when it came to him.

“I was just wondering how you ended up in my bedroom asking questions about my personal photographs.”

“You carried me in here,” I reminded with a sassy wink.

Arching a brow, he agreed. “That’s true. I did. I was also contemplating how sexy you are in just my shirt.”

I don’t know exactly what I’d been expecting, but that hadn’t been it. I suppose somewhere in the back of my mind I’d expected regret or rejection, but it seemed like my teacher had finally accepted the unthinkable. Me.

Giving him a coy smile, I fingered the material tickling my bare thighs and played with him a little. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Addison. Very much.”

“Well, I like wearing your shirt. It makes me feel sexy.”

He must have pushed off the floor with his foot, because his chair rocked back slightly. “Good. Maybe I’ll keep you in it.”

I liked that idea and was about to say more when I spotted the opposite wall and a large black-and-white photograph centered on its own.

It was beautiful, and I was drawn to it.

Walking across the plush carpet, I stopped and studied the image. I had no words. It was mesmerizing.

The sculpture was of a nude woman lying on her side with her arms raised back over her head and wrapped around the neck of a winged—

“That’s Cupid.”

Grayson’s voice, that hypnotic, commanding voice, found me and made my body shiver.

“And who is she?”

“That’s Psyche.”

I traced my index finger along her naked form. I started at her head then moved down over her breast and continued all the way to her toes.

“What’s their story?”

The chair behind me creaked, and I looked back to see Grayson sitting up with his arms resting on the desk.

“Well, Venus, Cupid’s mother, led Psyche down to the Underworld to retrieve a flask.”

Curious, I frowned at…my history teacher.

“Why?”

Grayson’s mouth stretched into a slow smile as he checked out my legs. When his eyes came back up and rested on my face, he answered.

“Venus was jealous of the way the villagers revered Psyche. They spoke of her as a goddess because she was so beautiful, and that enraged Venus. She ordered her son Eros, better known as Cupid, to avenge her. But he took one look at Psyche and became enamored with her instead. He believed she was perfect in every way.”

I shifted from one foot to another and pushed my right toes down onto the top of my left.

“But no one’s perfect.”

Grayson shook his head. “No, no one’s perfect. Not even Psyche.”

I agreed with a swift nod of my head and waited for him to continue.

“Psyche’s father was very upset that his daughter wasn’t married because she was too beautiful not to be. So, he took her to see the oracle who told them that they would all meet a disastrous fate unless she was sacrificed to a monster.”

“That’s horrible! He got rid of her to save his own ass?”

I shot an annoyed look at Grayson, and I could tell he was enjoying himself. His eyes were lit up, and he was grinning at me in a way that made my heart thump harder. He was enjoying teaching me this lesson.

“Well, yes. He left her where he was told to, however, instead of a monster coming and taking her away…”

“Cupid did?”

Grayson chuckled and sat back in his chair. “Yes. But she didn’t know that. He took her to a palace, one that was covered in sparkling gemstones, where she would live for the rest of her life. Every night when it was dark, he came to her, and they made love, but he forbade her to know who he was...it was a secret.”

Grayson’s eyes zeroed in on me, warming all of the places he had touched earlier. I was his secret, and in that moment, he was conveying it with no more than a look.

“Psyche was curious, though…too curious. She wanted to see her lover. Wanted to see who touched her. So one night while he was asleep beside her, she shined a light over his face, and her lamp dripped hot oil on Cupid, waking him.”

I brought my thumbnail up to my mouth and began nibbling as I listened. I was enthralled.

Grayson stopped for a moment to ask, “Nervous?”

I nodded. “What did he do? Was he pissed off?”

“He wasn’t happy. He felt betrayed, so he left her there.”

My mouth dropped open in outrage.

“What? That makes him just as bad as her father. He took her to a palace where no one else lives and then just leaves her there? Because she wanted to see him? That’s not fair.”