“Yes. Just like that.”
Her walls start to flutter around me, and I grit my teeth, holding on, waiting for her.
“Together,” I whisper.
She breaks apart beneath me, her body nearly collapsing as she comes for the second time. I follow her with a groan, spilling inside her as pleasure crashes through me.
We’re breathless.
“That was—” she starts.
“Incredible.”
“We should move in immediately,” she says with a laugh. “I want more of that.”
“Agreed.”
After we clean ourselves, she curls against my side, her head on my chest. Her fingers slide up and down my arm. The afternoon light has shifted to evening gold, painting the room in warm tones.
“Wait,” she says, sitting up. Her eyes widen when she finally sees the paintings on the opposite wall. “The subway series. How?”
“I tracked down the buyer and made an offer he couldn’t refuse,” I admit.
“Louis,” she says.
“I had to have them, Addison. Those paintings changed my life.”
“They changed mine too.” She props her chin on my chest and looks at me. She smiles, and it’s the one that promises trouble, the one that dared me to be more than I was. “We won.”
“Yes, we fucking did.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “You taught me that love is worth fighting for.”
“You taught me that love exists.” She kisses me, and it’s full of everything we’ve been through to get here.
When we finally break apart, the room is dim, and the first stars are appearing outside the window. We lie back against the pillows with the fluffy blankets pulled up to our waists.
“I want to paint you like this. Half-naked in bed.” She runs her fingers down my stomach. “For myprivatecollection.”
I pull her closer and capture her lips. The fading sunlight catches the diamond on her finger, casting tiny rainbows across the white sheets.
“What do you think our kids will look like?” she asks.
“Beautiful trouble,” I say. “Like their mother.”
She smiles against my chest. “That’s real rich, coming from you,drama king.”
It makes me laugh. I hold her and watch day fade into night, and for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next.
EPILOGUE
DELPHINE
ONE MONTH LATER
The palace has been chaotic for weeks. Wedding planners have taken over the north wing. Fabric swatches cover every surface in the main sitting room. I watched my mother discuss the differences between ivory versus champagne for forty-five minutes. They looked the same to me.
I slip down the corridor toward Louis’s quarters, dodging a woman carrying an armful of flower arrangements and nearly colliding with a man wheeling a rack of suit options. The royal wedding is a month away, but you’d think it was happening tomorrow based on the panic around here.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. When it’s busy like this, no one pays attention to me, and I tend to get away with a lot more.
