She is the Princess, and he's her guard. A lust that's forbidden.
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Princess Celeste Lawerence is a snotty, rebellious, and vain temptress. At least, that's what the kingdom of Alvera says she is. Landing every one of her personal guards in exile or...
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Gray Anderson
You are different.
Those words echoed through the empty walls of my heart as I led the Princess down the dim hallway of rooms.
Different, what did being "different" even constitute?
Did she look different, act differently, or talk differently? Different from what?
I shouldn't really care as much as it did, but those words were vexing me as I walked behind Celeste. Perhaps because it was a truth, I had already started to admit to myself that I wasn't ready to understand. Celeste was different than the other royals.
I decided to shift my focus to the set of keys in my palm. Turning them over, I read the room number.
45.
Then I looked at the doors we passed.
41...42...43...44.
"That's us." I pointed to the door she had stopped in front of. Walking past her to push the key into the slot.
With a quick glance to both my sides, confirming no one was trailing us, I opened the door.
Now, I didn't know what I was expecting, but as I took in a small, very small room with one bed settled against the far end wall, it caught me by such surprise that I stilled in the doorway.
I guess it made sense, we barely got a room let alone two sleeping quarters.
Regardless, the sight of the small bed was a slap across my face. I know it was impossible, but it felt like some trick Celeste twisted up. A scheme to have kingdom officials find us in the middle of the night cramped so... closely...in sleeping arrangements. I just about swallowed my tongue as she removed her hood and pushed past me.
She, too, took a moment to fully take in the sight of the room. No doubt, it was the most ill-accommodating room she'd ever had to stay in and now share. She let out a curt, amused chuckle. Turning on the balls of her feet, she let her hands fall from her hood to her side.
"Gray...if you wanted to cuddle, you could've just asked."
My defenses shot up like guards forming the front lines of a battle, my finger raised as if to hammer in my words, "I did not plan this."
Nothing doubted she knew this too, but she taunted further, "Do you sleep on the right or the left? Snorer? What do you sleep in? Trousers, perhaps night clothes, or how I prefer...naked."
Her sultry words spawned images in my head, flashes of her sprawled beneath thin covers. Her naked form was barely hidden behind the meager fabric as those starry eyes taunted me over the sheets. The room seemed to get smaller as heat pooled low in my abdomen, my bulge spurring to life with my rampant mind.
