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“I’m aware I can be overly cautious and suspicious, but no one is this altruistic. Tell me what you want, or leave before I make you at sword point.” Lemony sounds exhausted, not angry. Bertrand stares helplessly until Lemony frowns.
Bertrand ignores the swarm of butterflies in his stomach and cradles the base of Lemony’s head, his thumb resting at the hollow behind Lemony’s ear. Lemony raises his eyebrows.
Bertrand breaths out, steadying himself. He’s scared, but when he kisses Lemony, Lemony kisses back.
“Did you talk to Beatrice?”
Bertrand hums noncommittally.
Lemony smiles—sharp and brilliant—like he’s won.
