Stefanos’ mouth burns. He catches my arm, pulling me close.
Fuck. He’s heavenly as he trembles in anticipation. For me. Wanting me. It’s more than I can stand. And, apparently, he’s having the same problem.
A soft kiss turns into something much hungrier in an instant.
I bury my fingers in Stefanos’ hair at the nape of his neck, tugging lightly. He groans, then pushes me hard against the door with a thud, just as eager. A moan escapes me, wanting him more badly than I need oxygen. Blood pounds in my ears.
And then we both stop kissing abruptly, gasping as we stare at each other. My fingers tighten slightly in Stefanos’ hair, my other hand on his chest.
“I—I can’t—” Stefanos says urgently, staring at me.
I swallow hard, searching Stefanos’ eyes, trying to get my bearings again from the ecstasy of kissing him. Of the incredible way it feels to have his body pressed against mine. His heat radiates.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you, Stef.” I rake my fingers along his jaw, releasing him, but not before I feel him shiver against me, and I shiver too. Everything in my body blazes for him at this moment.
“Your taxi,” Stefanos whispers. He reaches out to trace my cheekbone, and I shudder at his warm touch. “You don’t want to be late for your flight.”
“Yeah.”
I forgot all about the flight.
With reluctance, I make myself pull away, unsteady. I open the door, give him a glance over my shoulder. He leans in the doorway, watching me. And I head off to catch my flight before the sun rises over Kerkyra. It’s the last thing I want to do.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I was not prepared for my arrival at the Athens airport.
Lost in my bittersweet feelings on the short flight to Athens and the heady taste of Stefanos, which lingers, it didn’t occur to me to check out social media. Or even the local news headlines. Too late.
Which, as I enter the terminal with Miles close, even away from the main concourse at this early hour, I realize immediately had been another big mistake on my part. Inside, people record me with their phones, capturing my dazed expression. There’s no end to the open stares. People murmur. Airport security does their best to whiz me through their secret passages as a VIP and to my connecting London flight. But I keep getting looks from the escorts, too, as if to confirm I’m a grade A fool.
A last glance at my phone before I put it on airplane mode at the gate shows the prince group chat that Auggie started last year sparking to life in all its chaotic glory.
James, 5:18 a.m.:
“Princes Behaving Badly” is a tabloid headline in London today
Fuck. Trust James to catch the news already, even if it is a ridiculous hour in London. He probably has a million news alerts set up, which is the fast track to madness. Or this debacle is already blowing up in London, and it’s caught his attention even on a night out, which sounds like my future ruin calling. It also means the news will be hitting Denmark about now too if the story about the yacht sinking’s reached London.
Theo, 5:20 a.m.:
Shouldn’t you be sleeping?
James, 5:21 a.m.:
I haven’t been to bed, it’s early yet. Where are you? Out sinking more ships?
Theo, 5:23 a.m.:
Very funny. On my way back home to London and boarding my flight
James, 5:24 a.m.:
Let me know when you land. Buckle up for a ride old thing
Theo, 5:25 a.m.:
Thanks for the warning, I think
