He winked and shot her a lopsided smile, like she’d telegraphed her thoughts. “I’m hungry but a bit distracted now.”
“Eat,” she instructed.
She poured a glass of wine, definitely too nervous to eat. But she forced herself to cut the pan-roasted salmon and fork it into her mouth. They were quiet while they ate, and Ele relished the opportunity to regroup. The intensity of their make-out session scared her. Every muscle, bone, tendon in her body responded to him. She didn’t have any idea how to get control of her responses, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to. But being out of control wasn’t something Ele could allow. Those heady moments, while completely freeing, could also trigger panic.
“Tell me about the match,” she said when it looked like Tristan had plowed through most of his plate.
His widening smile captivated Ele. Pushing his plate away, he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “As a kid, you dream about moments like today. Playing at this level, for your country. It’s the unattainable goal.” His eyes went a little unfocused. “Every footballer wants to be there. We’ve all fantasized about it. And I lived it today.” He laughed, full-bodied. “It was fucking amazing.”
Charmed, Ele grinned. “I wish I could have been there.”
He tilted his head, a move she was beginning to recognize was as natural for him as his cheeky grin. “Why weren’t you?” The euphoria remained in his expression; there was no judgment, even as she realized she was disappointed she missed the match.
“Jamie went.”
His brow creased. “So?”
Ele never had to explain protocol. Surrounded by people familiar with palace politics and history, she assumed everyone understood. She fiddled with her plate, trying to figure out how much she wanted to say. It was obvious Tristan didn’t concern himself with the royal family, and while it was refreshing, it was also a bit daunting. If you took away her lineage, who was she?
“Well, outside of our country, Jamie and I never appear in public together.”
“Really?” His expression gave away his confusion and perhaps disbelief.
“Really.”
“Never?”
“Never. It’s protocol. Jamie is the crown prince, as you know, next in line for the throne. But I’m number two. The spare, if you will. Therefore, outside of our borders, we do not travel together or appear together or stay together.” There were other things, private things, she could never share with Tristan about royal duty and her duty specifically. But this piece was public knowledge. “If Jamie’s schedule permits, since football is his thing, he will be at the games. I will only be there if he cannot.”
Tristan sat back in his chair. “That’s a bummer then.”
Ele nodded. It was a bummer. She realized she wanted to be there at his games, to see him doing what he loved. When he spoke of playing, he wore a different expression, and she desperately wanted to see it firsthand.
“Jamie’s schedule has more interruptions than mine, so there is always a chance I’ll get to see you play.”
“I’d like that,” he remarked. “I’d like knowing you were there, watching me.”
Their eyes met.
“Would you?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“You know I would”—then the tilt—“don’t you?”
Ele swallowed. She hadn’t, but having him say it almost had the same effect on her as his drugging kisses. Her gaze went a little hazy, and her stomach flipped.
“I do now.”
“Good.” He looked around the table. “Do we need to clear this?”
She shook her head.
“I figured.” He pushed his chair back and stood, holding out his hand to her. “Come on.”
She placed her hand in his. She loved that he seemed to always want to touch her and take her with him. The few times they’d been together, he’d never left a room or moved without reaching for her.
Instead of leading her down the hall to the bedroom, he took her back to the living area. He stopped in front of one of the chairs and waited for her to sit. He was about to sit in the chair opposite but turned back to the dining area. When he reappeared, he handed her the wineglass. With a bottle of water in his other hand, he sat down.
“I know you’re a planner and your schedule is important to you”—he shrugged—“which means I know you’ve gone over this in your head hundreds of times.”