Happiness.
“Is that what I am?” I ask, stepping closer. “Your happiness?”
His eyes, amber-flecked in the low light, meet mine without hesitation. “Yes. Among other things.”
“What other things?” I murmur, drawn closer still.
“My partner. My conscience. My greatest challenge and my greatest comfort.” His voice drops lower. “The man who makes me forget protocol and propriety at the most inconvenient moments.”
The heat in his gaze stirs something low in my belly, but more than that—it anchors me. This is Leo choosing me out loud.
We’ve maintained careful discretion since Fiona’s birth, our duties keeping us occupied and often separated during the day. Tonight is the first time in days we’ve had more than fleeting moments alone.
“Like now?” I ask, recognizing the desire building between us.
“Especially now.” His eyes flick to my mouth, then back up. “Stay tonight.”
It’s not a question, not quite a command—something in between that makes my pulse quicken.
“Is that wise?” I ask, though we both know my decision is already made. “After today’s public appearance...”
His fingers brush mine, barely a touch, but enough to make my heart stutter.
“I don’t care.” He steps closer still, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to wake up with you beside me. Just once without interruptions or emergency meetings or royal crises.”
How could I deny such a simple request? Especially when it aligns so perfectly with my own desires.
“Lead the way,” I tell him.
We maintain proper distance as we navigate the more public corridors, but once we reach the royal residence wing, Leo’s hand finds mine, our fingers interlacing with familiar ease. His quarters, when we reach them, are lit only by moonlight streaming through tall windows, turning the elegant space ethereal.
The door has barely closed behind us when Leo turns to me, all pretence of royal decorum abandoned. His kiss is hungry, urgent, days of careful public restraint transforming into fierce desire. I respond in kind, backing him against the nearest wall, my hands finding his waist to pull him closer.
“I’ve missed this,” he breathes against my mouth. “Missed you.”
I trail kisses along his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of evening stubble against my lips. “It’s not been that long,” I remind him, though my own body aches with the same sense of deprivation.
“Three minutes is too long.” His hands slide under my jacket, pushing it from my shoulders.
“You wore this just to rile me up,” I murmur, voice low against his jaw. “You know how good you look when you’re not allowed to be touched.”
His breath hitches. “Worked, didn’t it?”
Smug bastard.
I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss. Rough. Claiming. My teeth graze his lower lip, and he opens for me immediately—just like I knew he would.
He melts fast. That’s the thing with Leo—he holds himself together like steel in public, but in private? If I take the lead, hefollows. If I ground him, helets go.
“Clothes,” I growl against his mouth. “Off. All of them. Now.”
He strips for me without question. Quick. Neat. Efficient, like it’s just another royal directive to obey.
But his hands shake. He’s already achingly hard.
Good.
I press him toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge. Then I stop him with one hand flat on his chest.
