Chapter 4

Flora

Callum Black doesn’t know it, but at 18, he’s my first kiss.

The lips of the gamekeeper’s son are foreign, wet, and thrilling.

When he pulls back, he looks bewildered, which is precisely how I feel.

“You lied to me, Callum Black.”

“I…I did?”

His voice squeaks like he’s 14 and not 18, which makes me smile.

“That was my real present, wasn’t it?”

He laughs, and as naturally as butter on toast, he circles his arms around my waist and pulls me in for another kiss.

This time, his tongue lightly brushes against the seam of my lips, triggering a wild sensation in my belly and below my navel. I want him to do that again.

Another brush of the tongue has my nipples hardening into pebbles.

I open my mouth to deepen the kiss, and his tongue meets mine. He’s warm and velvety soft. Callum’s kiss is everything I knew it could be, but nothing like what I imagined.

We could get into real trouble now because kissing Callum is better than chocolate. Better than the birthday cake. And I want all of it.

With his tongue in my mouth, I’m having trouble forming thoughts, which has never been a problem for me before.

I could kiss Callum’s lips for hours. In fact, the sun has gone down by the time we finally stop.

“You’re really good at that,” I say.

“So are you,” he says shyly, his hands moving up and down my bare arms, then taking both my hands in his.

There’s something eerily matrimonial about the way we stand facing each other, holding hands, with both our heads swimming with overwhelming thoughts.

He takes my breath away when he says, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”

“Why did you wait until today?” I ask.

“Because I wanted you to be old enough to decide what you want to do with your life.”

I laugh. “Oh, Callum, you have no idea how little I get to decide what to do.”

He squeezes my hands. “When we met, you told me you do what you want.”

“That was pre-teen bluster. Now, everything feels heavier. The boys my mother invited to that party…”

“Wait, what boys?” Callum asks hastily.

“Are you jealous?”

“Yes,” he grinds out. “Also, you’re too young to marry.”

“Of course I’m too young, Callum,” I say, laughing. “But that won’t stop Mother from pushing her ideas on me.”

“What does your father say?”

I shrug. “The king wants his little girl to be little forever.”

“And what do you want?”

Rolling up onto my toes, I whisper in the ear of my most trusted friend. “I want to be free.”