“It never really goes away, does it?”
Keegan’s eyes teared up, and I could see his pain as he said, “No, it doesn’t, I guess, especially when things get crazy or hectic…or you make big life decisions you wish you could talk to them about.”
Clearly he’d felt the same way I had since everything had begun. “What do you think Crawford would have said about all this?”
“He would have been proud of me. Happy for me. That’s just how he was. What about your mom?”
“I wish I could say the same, but honestly, I’m not all that sure. A part of me thinks she’s looking down, disappointed that I’ve conjured up all this pain for our family and the Crown.”
“You don’t think she’d have wanted you to be happy?”
“To be fair to Mother, she was an incredible caregiver. She never once missed reading us a bedtime story or giving us a kiss on the forehead. She kept us near during public events when we were very young to ensure she wouldn’t miss our first steps, and once canceled a speech before the parliament to see one of Lucas’s fencing tournaments. That isn’t to say she didn’t miss certain milestones or accomplishments, but when possible, she put family above all else. However, as a royal, she also taught us that happiness and one’s own desires come second to sacrifice for one’s country. And sometimes things got lost in the mix of family and sacrifice.” I realized I was offering up far too much introspection that wouldn’t do either of us any good. “Enough of this.” I glanced around, searching for a way out of this far too somber conversation we’d found ourselves stuck in. “It seems the dance floor has gotten busy.”
“Oh, do you want to dance?” Keegan asked in a way that made it nearly impossible for me to resist.
“Yeah, I’d love to dance. Keegan Kruse going to show me some of those sexy moves he pulled out in Parlaisa?”
“Those are just the tip of the iceberg,” he said as he took my hand and guided me onto the dance floor.
He wasn’t kidding, either. As soon as we got out there and got to rolling his shoulders and swaying his hips, working his way into this beat, it was clear he knew how to move his body.
“Hey, I’m not good at much, but I’m good at dancing,” he teased.
I assumed he was underselling himself. From what I’d seen so far, there was plenty Keegan was good at.
Of course, based on the way he worked his ass, I also assumed the bedroom was definitely one of those places.
“Guess it’s my turn to step up my game,” I told him as I slid up behind him, pushing my pelvis against his ass, and oh, that felt so good.
So firm.
And the way he pushed it back, I could already feel my dick stiffening in my pants.
“That feels good,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and winking at me.
I laughed.
Again, he was showing me that confident side of his personality—the side of a man who didn’t have any worries about what he could offer another man. I hooked my arm around him, rested my hand against his hip, and pulled him back, keeping him close to me as he relaxed into my hold, keeping that ass firmly against my stiffening cock. I probed with my hands around his firm little body. This was all so new to me, exploring a man in this way.
Yet Keegan made it all seem so effortless, as though he’d lured me into a riptide that was carrying me off far too quickly. But I was fearless, sliding my hands under his shirt and feeling his abs shifting with his movements, my mind wandering as my thoughts got away from me, had me fantasizing about exactly what I wanted to do with this ass.
I pulled his shirt up a little more to get a good view of his back when I noticed, just above the waistband of his jeans, a bit of lace. In the dark lighting, the color was difficult to determine, but it was either pink or red.
Why the hell was he wearing these?
Despite my surprise, a growl escaped my lips, and Keegan shifted his head, looking shocked by the sound I’d made.
It had taken me aback too.
I was nearly as confused as that day in the bar in Parlaisa when I’d kissed him.
“Did you lose a bet?” I looked down at the underwear.
“Lose a bet?” he repeated, his eyes widening as he glanced down, as if he’d totally forgotten what he’d been wearing.
“You’re wearing panties. I just—”
In an instant, all that confidence and certainty he’d strutted dissolved as he tucked down the back of his shirt and whirled around. He appeared panicked by my comment.
