I didn't move away when he stepped closer to me. My heart was screaming, telling me to leave now, but my head refused to let my feet move.
He pressed his lips against mine and I was immediately at his whim.
I could barely remember the last time we had kissed, but that was because when he kissed me that night, I had too much alcohol in me.
Now, however I had had none. I was completely clean but my body still refused to leave.
I do remember on thing though, that I had enjoyed the last kiss, no matter how much I tried to deny it, I knew I loved it. I loved the feeling he gave me when he touched my body, when he wrapped his arms around me... He was so handsome and probably rich too.
And no matter how much I hated to say it, from that day on I had wanted to kiss him again.
But I hated myself for that. I hated myself so very much.
How could I be doing this? How could I do this when my mistress had just been forced to marry the Pharaoh of Egypt.
She had just found out that the man she did love wants nothing to do with her anymore.
She had been tortured by the king's stepmothers who are trying to change her.
And she is probably, right now, crying and alone.
Look at me. While she's suffering, I'm sitting here kissing a man who probably doesn't even know my name.