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“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, picking up on my internal ruminations.
“I’m so glad you’ve figured that out about me,” I say, putting a tiny bit of distance between our bodies so I can reach down and circle my hand around his length.
He’s thick in my hand, and the touch of his skin warms me on this chilly evening. I glide my hand up and down his shaft, feeling every throb, reveling in every ragged breath.
The air is thick with whispers, murmurs, and groans as I pump him, milking him from his root to the throbbing tip.
When he goes rigid and pumps out his release, the prince buries his face against my neck. His seed surges into the water. Sigurd’s body loosens under my clenching legs, and I want so much to have taken him inside and let him fill me.
He’s a good man. I suspect he’d be a good man to me out in the real world. I simply know he’s true to his word.
But for now, I will enjoy the man I have here in our cozy little hiding place.
24
Sigurd
Stasi doesn’t bring up the wedding again, and the day comes and goes without mention of it.
Do I feel guilty that I didn’t go to it?
Still no.
I officiated Torben’s secret wedding because he’s been a good brother to me. I owed him. And besides, it was fun to help the perfect favored prince to defy the king for the first time in his life.
Etienne and me? That’s complicated.
The only times I’ve ever appreciated Etienne’s antics is when they make Father’s forehead vein stand out. I like anyone who can keep our father on his toes. And, okay, I admit the second oldest is pretty funny once in a while. But the wedding is a charade, and the marriage is forced. That’s all the excuse I need to avoid the crowd of well-wishers and photographers.
The longer I lay low under the radar, the better. There is no doubt in my mind that Etienne won’t make it all the way to the coronation. Kala is a good human with healthy self-esteem—there’s no way she’ll tolerate his behavior. He’ll slip up for sure. It will only take one three-day bender for that woman to send him packing. Any photos that might surface from such a bender—like cozying on the dance floor with a random socialite—will only be the icing on the cake.
The only regret I have in not going to the wedding is to offer support for my sister, Flora. If Torben doesn’t attend the wedding, it’ll be down to her and the palace security to ride herd on our brother.
Bracing myself before the campfire, I take my phone off airplane mode. Sixteen more messages from my sister.
I ring her up.
“Dammit, Flora, if you keep this up, you’ll get caught and questioned by somebody.”
She snorts. “Not likely. Most of those guys don’t know what they’re doing.”
“Not the one in the kilt. He’s a decorated Royal Navy vet.”
“Ooh, yes. He’s a hot one, isn’t he?”
“Special ops,” I say.
“How do you know all that but can’t remember his name?” Flora asks.
I cringe as a thought occurs to me. “Flora! Is that who you’ve been dating?”
She takes on an innocent tone. “Me? Dating?”
“Come off it. Everyone but Mother and Father knows you’re dating someone. The way you disappear into the woods for hours. You’re always on your phone.”
“I’ve always done that. And you have no room to talk about disappearing.”
True.
