His gaze met mine, and I saw the answer in his eyes before he could nod.
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
The air between us thickened, heavy with things unsaid.I reached for his glass, slipping it from his hand and setting it down on the table.Then I leaned in again, this time without hesitation.
The kiss was deeper, hungrier.My lips parted against his, and he answered with a low sound that curled heat straight through me.His hand came up to the back of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair, and I thought I might dissolve under the touch.
Desire roared through me, overwhelming, unstoppable.Every nerve in my body reached for him.
When we broke apart, breathing hard, he rested his forehead against mine.“Arthur,” he murmured, his voice ragged, “you’re extraordinary.”
I laughed, shaky and breathless.“You make me feel… like I can’t hold myself together.”
“Then don’t,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along my jaw.
And I didn’t.I kissed him again, pouring into it all the longing, all the secrecy, all the impossible hunger I’d kept leashed for far too long.His mouth was fire against mine, his hands warm where they cupped my face, and the kiss unravelled me.Every careful thread of self-control I’d wrapped around myself since the bar came loose, leaving nothing but desire.
Bryce kissed with a kind of hunger I recognised instantly: restrained, pent-up, a need pressed down for too long.When his tongue brushed mine, my pulse spiked so sharply I thought I might faint from it.I pulled back only far enough to look at him.
His eyes—dilated, searching—made me ache in ways I hadn’t allowed myself to ache in years.Bryce’s hand slid down, tentatively at first, then boldly as it traced the line of my hip.My body pressed closer, and a low, involuntary sound slipped from me.I caught it with a laugh, shaky and breathless.
He grinned at that—oh, that grin—and it undid me further.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered, and it startled me how raw the words sounded.
His breath caught, but Bryce didn’t look away.He leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, his hand splaying across my back as though he meant to memorise me by touch alone.
I couldn’t sit still any longer.My nerves were alight, every inch of me aching to close the space between us, to taste him again, and again, until I knew his mouth like I knew my own.
Without thinking, I set my wineglass aside, stood, and tugged him gently to his feet.He rose, eyes questioning but hungry, his hand still caught in mine.I pressed closer, my lips hovering just above his.
“Come with me,” I breathed.
Bryce didn’t hesitate.
I led him across the living room, through the short hallway that opened onto my bedroom.My heart hammered so loudly I was sure he could hear it.At the threshold I paused, turned back to him, and let my thumb trace his lower lip.
His breath shivered out.
“Bryce,” I murmured, my mouth a whisper from his, “are you ready for me?”
ChapterFifteen
Bryce
The door to his bedroom closed behind us with a quiet click, but it felt like thunder inside my chest.Arthur still held my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as if he could steady me, though the truth was the opposite.
I was reeling.
I hadn't been with a man in years.Not because I stopped wanting them—God, no—but because it was too hard, too dangerous, too exposed.My career had demanded secrecy, discretion, self-denial.A diplomat's life meant always being observed, always being measured.Loving men had never been the problem.Being seen loving them was.
And now here I was, inside Kensington Palace of all places, about to fall apart in the arms of a Windsor.
The bedroom was hushed, a silence that seemed to lean in and listen.Only the muted glow of two lamps lit the space, their golden wash softening every edge.The walls were pale cream, the bed wide and dressed in linens that whispered of luxury without ostentation.But none of it mattered.The light caught Arthur's skin, gilding his hair and the sharp planes of his face until he looked less like a man and more like something divine.A god who had chosen me.
Arthur turned to me, eyes shining in the soft glow of the bedside lamps.The air between us vibrated with possibility, so thick I thought I might drown in it.My throat tightened.I wanted him so badly it frightened me.
His lips found mine before I could collapse under the weight of my own thoughts.The kiss was soft at first—hesitant, testing—but it broke me wide open.The taste of him, the warmth of his mouth, the sheer reality of his body pressing into mine…it was too much.
