Page 75 of Fallen Crown

“Scooch,” he says, and he tugs on the edge of the sleeping bag.

As I shift more toward the back of the couch, I try not to wince at the pain in my leg. That’s another reason I don’t need a medic. By morning, I’ll be able to walk on it again. Physical pain is temporary.

Brice eases onto the couch, and with him comes the initial nip of opening the sleeping bag. But as soon as his body is pressed against mine, and the sleeping bag is snug around us, I remember why body heat is so beneficial. He’s so warm, and I can already feel the deep freeze seeping out of my bones.

He loops his arm around my waist, and he presses me flush against him. We fit together in ways I never would have imagined, and I release a sigh of relief at the close contact. There’s something about being close to him that causes the last vestiges of panic to dissipate. Without the watchful gaze of other people and a camera crew, it feels like I can be myself. Turns out Maren Tucker loves being glued to Brice Summerset. Color me surprised.

“Will you tell me why you got so upset about your leg?” Brice asks. “Was it the blood?”

I stare into his light-brown eyes, and there’s so much tenderness in his expression, my heart expands. How did I ever label him superficial? So much depth he hides behind jokes and bravado and charm. He is an ocean that I would drown in, every day, forever.

“I’ve heard some of the questions Iris has been asking you about your dad.” I tiptoe my fingers across his temple, and he closes his eyes in response to the caress or maybe the mention of his father. There’s so much warmth between us now that my teeth have stopped chattering. “That must be hard.”

“It’s not so bad if I focus on the things my father was able to see and experience with me. With us.” He swallows, and he doesn’t open his eyes. “I can’t consider what will be missing when I go home. What will be absent—” He clears his throat. “From now on.”

I snuggle into him, and I press my lips to his cheek. He sucks in a shaky breath, and I whisper, “You can be sad with me.” They are words I wish anyone offered to me after my accident. I needed permission to grieve, and instead, so many people expected me to rebound as though I’m made of rubber and not flesh and bone. I suppose most of those people had no way of knowing it wasn’t just my ankle that cracked wide open.

“You are a gift, Tucker,” he says in a hoarse voice. “An absolute treasure.”

Then he kisses me, and I mold myself to him, seek the heat that’s thawing my heart and the frozen wasteland of my life one degree at a time.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Brice

No one has ever given me permission to be anything other than my best self. As a royal, my high visibility means I’m on constant red alert. While I haven’t always obeyed the societal norms my parents would have preferred, I’ve learned to keep a tight lid on my emotions in public. Too much of anything is bad for business. Nick and I tested that piece of wisdom many, many times when we were younger.

Now that I think about it, I’ve spent most of my life juggling the whims and wishes of other people. My parents, Nick, Alex, and an entire country—all have had certain expectations about who I am or what I’m capable of. So much so that I ignored as much as I could, often taking whatever path seemed easiest or the most fun.

Before Tucker entered my life, if someone had asked me if I was happy, I’d have said yes. A superficial happiness compared to whatever this is, on the couch, with her. Or maybe I was merely content, and I didn’t know any better. She’s pressed against me with her lips sliding over mine, and I’m the most alive I’ve ever been. After eight physically grueling days, I’m still ready to take on the world. It feels like I could conquer anything as long as I could look over and see her at my shoulder. Such a strange feeling to need someone with this intensity.

If I could rewind time and experience this again with her, I’d do it in a heartbeat. My world is in bloom, and she’s the bulb that started it all.

“Are you warm enough yet, Tucker?” I murmur against her neck.

“Getting warmer,” she says in a breathy voice. “I can take it hotter.”

“You sure you can stand the heat?” An invitation to more of anything with her is one I’ll gladly take.

“Why not? It’s not like I’m getting out unscathed.” Tucker dances her fingertips along my spine, and I harden in response.

“I promise I won’t burn you.” I feather kisses along the edges of her face before planting a gentle one on her lips. “I don’t want to be the cause of your pain, Tucker. I want to soothe it.”

“Pretty words,” she murmurs, exposing her neck for my attention. “You always have such pretty words.”

“You don’t think I mean them?” I nip at her earlobe and then brush my nose against hers before angling another kiss across her lips. Her lack of faith in me should be offensive, but I understand that Enzo gave her the biggest promise of all—a ring, a life, forever, and he left. That has to make even the most open heart more closed, and Tucker is far from unguarded. What does that sort of misplaced faith do to someone who is already wary?

“Do you think you mean them?”

“I’m trying not to be offended here, Tucker,” I say as I shift her farther underneath me, taking care to be gentle with her thigh. “Do you really believe I’d say things to you that I don’t mean?”

“No,” she whispers. “I think you mean them all.” There’s a strange sadness in her voice, but I’m so turned on it’s hard to think straight.

“I do.” I brush my length against the heat between her legs, and she moves with me. Her fingernails dig into my biceps, and she raises her hips to force contact again. I slip my hand under her to cradle her ass. “Your thigh—”

“Don’t stop. It doesn’t hurt. Just. Don’t. Stop.” Each word is punctuated by the drag and retreat of my erection grinding against her most sensitive parts.

I bury my face in her neck, and I move against her. Her breath is hot and heavy in my ear, and my breathing becomes elevated at the realization of how switched on she already is.