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I struggle to fling the sheets off, feeling hot and too crowded. I see his hair first, the texture coarse but plush beneath my fingers as I thread them into his twists. His arms are hooked beneath each of my thighs, holding me open as he licks a hot path to my clit. I get a crystal clear look at the tattoos on his arms and the way they shift with his muscles and tendons.

It’s like a lightning bolt when his sleepy eyes open, rising to lock with mine.

I wonder if he’s eating his cum out of me.

The thought sends a frisson up my spine, back arching as he licks a slick circuit around my clit. “Pace,” I whine, throat clicking with a swallow. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

The assenting noise he makes is a low, deep vibration that draws a moan from my chest. It’s easy in that thin barrier between sleep and wakefulness to chase the ache in my core. Pace eats my pussy with outright leisure, like this is something to be savored, indulged in. His black eyes hold mine, every flick of his tongue meant to elicit a response, and I give it to him in spades, spreading myself out obscenely, too caught up in the moment to feel something as trivial as shame.

“Oh,” I breathe, panting as he tips my hips upward, fucking his tongue into me. “I want—I need—”

There’s a deep, guttural sound, and then he’s springing up, looking so human as he grips the shaft of his cock that it overwhelms me. The muscles in his torso tighten and flex as he enters me with a sure thrust.

“Like this,” he rasps, licking at my mouth just like he had my pussy. “Come on my dick, just like this.”

It’s not the sex I’m used to—especially not from him. It’s unbearably close, our breaths mingling in the scant space between our mouths. If I had half a mind to, it might even make me uncomfortable. As it is, I indulge in it just as much as he is. His body rocks into mine, claiming but not owning, coaxing me to join him. And his eyes…

His eyes are fathomless pits of darkness, never blinking, not giving me any respite from their intensity. Best of all is the way he feels inside, thick and swollen and ripe.

I’ve never been so wet in my life.

I grab onto his shoulders and listen to what his body is saying.Follow me, it demands, and I comply, heels skidding against the sheets as I buck up against him, powerless against the pull of ecstasy.

He captures my gasp when I seize, the orgasm throbbing through me like sharp, silken threads.

I’m too lost in the starry rapture of it to know exactly when he comes, but I eventually feel it. The growing fullness. The twitch of his cock as it pulses. The clipped grunt that punches from his chest. The way his fingers flutter through the crown of my hair, holding me fast as he buries himself deep inside, panting into my flushed cheek.

I soothe him through it mindlessly, turning to skate my lax lips across his tense jaw. Here, in the sleepy stillness of the loft, having him inside me feels normal—sweet—an act between lovers instead of Royals.

It’s… nice.

When his muscles finally loosen, he breathlessly rolls us to our sides, face to face. It doesn’t matter that his eyes are closed now, fingers grasping my hip to keep me close. I still remember with sharp clarity the way he looked last night, wet and shivering and terrifyinglylost.

Idly, I reach up to rest my fingertips against his forehead, my touch no more than a glancing caress as I bring them down, mapping the shape of his face. “What happened yesterday?”

His cock is still softening inside, and he sighs, dark eyelashes fluttering as they open. “I’ve been thinking about that.” He looks better than he did last night, at least. The dark circles are gone, replaced with a pensive tightness. “I can bribe them.”

Frowning, I ask, “Who?”

“The tow company.” He releases my hip to stroke his fingers through my hair, eyes calculating. “It’s probably not even in the impound yet. I can spare a few G’s. Or threaten them—Father will respect that.”

“Oh.” I blink, trying to catch up. “I meant—”

But he continues, “Then I can swing by the spa, snag my gun, take care of the speeding ticket before it hits the wire, and make it to campus in time for Professor Piresh’s office hours to make a case for my extension.” There’s a new looseness to him once it’s all out, as if having a plan was all he ever needed.

As much as I want to ask about his mother, I can’t bear to transform him back into the miserable, desperate man I faced last night. I barely know how to handle Pace on a good day. But on a bad day?

His calf rubs against mine as he stretches, a hand wandering down to press against my belly. His eyes follow it, something soft in the way he blinks, slow and heavy. “Have you thought of a name for him?”

I squirm against the tickle of his fingertips. “I’m still getting used to the fact it’s a boy,” I confess. I hadn’t really had time to land on a preference.

His hand looks so striking against my belly. His dark skin against my pale. His scars and tattoos against the unblemished swell. “Tell me when you do,” he whispers, nestling into the pillow.

Cautiously, I wonder, “Would it matter?”

His eyes flick up to mine. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I shiver when his fingers skate up to my breast, his rough knuckles dragging over the soft underside. “I guess I figured whoever the father ended up being would get to decide.”