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“Not really.”

“What are you talking about? You’re one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. You’ve even said it yourself, that picking up women has never been a problem.”

He smirks. “I have, and I’m well aware. But that doesn’t mean I can have any woman I want. Sure, I could go out to the bar, pick someone, spend the night together. I’ve done it before.” One final step closer. “But they all want something from me. None of them understand my world, the pressures, the expectations. They think they want me, a prince, until they know the price.”

It’s an effort to swallow as my mouth goes dry. “The price of royalty?”

He brings us chest to chest, and I have to crane my head to meet his gaze. “And the price of loving someone like me. Like my brother. You’ve seen it.” He cups my face, thumb gently rubbing my cheek. “And yet you’re not running from it.”

My breathing hitches. Every cell in my body is attuned to the spot he’s touching me. So, so warm.

“I can have any woman, but I don’t want just anyone. I want the one who isn’t scared to pay the price to be with me.” His eyes flick across my face, lids hooded, as if searching for an answer to a question he won’t voice.

And I’m scared my face will betray what I also can’t speak aloud.

But the conversation I had just a short while ago made my decision.

“I’m…” My voice is scratchy. “I hope you find her.”

I step back, leeching the warmth from my body. His hand falls limply at his side while his face clouds over. He doesn’t try to fight me on it.

“Fine. I’ll see you next week,” he says, in clear dismissal.

Like the coward I’m finding myself to be, I take the out, and leave without looking back.

That night, I drift off to sleep and dream like I never have before.

I’m in a bed, but I’m not alone.

Lips on my neck. Hands gripping my waist. Ragged breath across my cheek. Exploring places I’ve never touched before. And all the places I ache to be touched.

A shedding of clothes. Skin on skin. Moaning and whimpers and desperate fingers.

The feeling is so new, so delicious, I don’t want it to end.

Golden-blond hair tangled in my hands. Cobalt eyes stoking the flame that burns inside me.

When I jerk awake, chest heaving and a residual ache between my thighs, it’s the wrong name on my lips.

Fourteen

I’m doing everything in my power to avoid looking Beau in the eye today.

Not when every time I look at him, I think of the version of him in my dream.

It makes me simultaneously want to combust, and curl up into a ball of shame.

It’s also easier to forget about the things he said about Lock, or what he implied is in store for me with him, if I don’t look at his face. He said those things out of jealousy. More so toward his brother, not toward me.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

He’s barely attempted conversation either, looking distracted most of the day. Maybe he wants to forget the whole thing ever happened: the dinner, the roof, the kiss.

I know I’m trying to forget what he hinted at in the garden. Wanting me.

But it doesn’t matter, because I don’t want him. Edwin called me this morning, inviting me out to tea with Lock the day after next. I’m trying to keep my focus on that.

And on the current topic of conversation in this meeting right now. The Caulfield-Penner Scholarship event security team is currently giving a map update on where security will all be stationed at the charity badminton tournament tomorrow. This is probably important information for me to be tuned into.