NOT ROYALE ENOUGH [18+]

41

SARAH

After-sex haze must have clouded my mind. Well, not everything—because I knew exactly what I was doing when I woke up, still aching for him, and had to taste him all over again.

I didn’t know what was happening to me. I was supposed to be freaking out, making up some dumb excuse, and running far, far away. But no. What was I doing instead?

My gaze drifted to the breakfast he made, the smell alone enough to make my stomach tighten with hunger. Then I looked at him—standing there, shirtless, wearing sweatpants that fit him way too well.

Damn it.

"Well?" I said, snapping him out of whatever thoughts were swirling in his head. He'd been staring at the marks he left on me, and judging by the look on his face, there wasn’t a hint of regret in his bones.

"Well..." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous scratch. "I got caught up in our act."

"Our act?" I arched a brow. Was he seriously trying to say this was my fault?

"So, you're saying this is my fault?" I challenged, tilting my head.

His lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smirk but knew better. "I’m saying we were both involved."

I scoffed. "Right. Because I totally pinned you down and forced you to put your mouth all over me?"

His eyes darkened slightly, and I instantly regretted my choice of words. The way he looked at me—like he wouldn’t mind if I did try to pin him down—sent a shiver through me.

"You saying you didn’t like it?" His voice was lower now, teasing.

I refused to let him get the upper hand. "That’s not the point."

He stepped closer, invading my space, and I hated how my body reacted—heart racing, heat pooling in my stomach. His fingers ghosted over the marks on my neck, his touch featherlight, and I swallowed hard.

"I think the point," he murmured, "is that neither of us wanted to stop."

Damn him.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing a piece of toast off the plate and taking a bite, pretending like his words didn’t affect me. "Whatever," I mumbled through the mouthful.

He chuckled, leaning against the counter. "That’s what I thought." He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he moved around the counter, grabbing his own plate before settling down next to me.

We ate in silence.

And it felt… good.

No guards watching us. No maids lingering nearby. No mother reminding me of my place. No nagging guilt creeping in, telling me I was doing something wrong every time I ached for him.