“We can’t,” he mutters against my ear. “Your brother and my parents—it’s a bad idea.”
“Who cares? What do you want?” I breathe, needing more of him.
He stares at me with an intensity that makes me feel completely exposed—not only my body, but everything underneath. The crown prince of Montclaire is watching me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.
“You’ve thought about this,” he says. “What it would be like …”
“I have,” I confess. “And so have you.”
He has me under his spell. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. All I can do is feel the heat of his body close to mine as his mouth trails up my neck.
“Why do you keep tempting me?” He kisses along my neck as his hand slides between my legs, adding enough pressure through the material of my panties to make me squirm.
“You want this as …” The words dissolve into a moan.
He lifts his head to watch my face as I rock against him.
My vision blurs, the sensation pure ecstasy. If he keeps going, he will bring me straight to the edge.
I reach forward to touch him, seeing how hard he is as he strains against his jeans. He catches my wrist and kisses my racing pulse.
“Not tonight.”
He shifts this time, creating distance between us.
I’m breathing hard at one end of the couch. He sits at the other. Our faces are full of guilt, but I refuse to apologize.
“I want to keep seeing you,” he says, keeping his voice low.
I stare into his blue eyes and imagine spending the rest of the summer with him.
“That’s a relief,” I say, trying to recover from whatever just happened.
“If anyone finds out about this …” His voice trails off. “It would be a scandal from hell that neither of us would ever recover from.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promise. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“If there’s a fallout and you speak against me … my PR team is ruthless. They will not stop until you’re seen as an unreliable narrator.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you need to know what’s at risk if you want to move forward.”
My pulse jumps at the thought. “And if I do?”
“This is checkmate,” he confirms. “But neither of us wins anything. At the end of the game, we both walk away. Until I get married.”
I’m already telling myself I can make this arrangement work. “A secret fling?”
He exhales. “Maybe we should start with friendship?”
“And then?” I ask, wanting him to confirm.
“What happens, happens.” He stays silent for a moment. “I wish things were different.”
“You can’t change it?”
“Unfortunately, no,” he says, and I can hear the defeat in his voice.
