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“Fuck. Aleric.More.”
I dug my fingers in deeper, dragging them from his front around to the middle of his back. His grip on me tightened, one hand against my neck, the other in my hair. He curled his fingers through my locks, then pulled until my head tilted backward, and he went for my tendon with sharp teeth, sucking a vicious mark that makeup would kill me for.
But I didn’t care.Fuck, I didn’t care.
This was amazing. He was perfect.
He was?—
“God yes, your Highness!”
Camillo shoved me back before I registered the banging on my trailer door, and I looked to him with frantic eyes. Did someone know? Was it illegal to kiss a prince like that without…I don’t know? Some kind of chaperone?
Camillo’s cheeks were ruddy, his lips parted. He was panting and a little wild-eyed. Was he having a blood pressure episode? Oh fuck, was he going to faint?
“Get the door,” he rasped.
“Are you okay?”
“Get the fucking door before they burst in here!” he hissed angrily. “Christ.” He dragged his fingers through his hair as I jumped up. I watched him reach for his chair, and just as he lifted himself from the sofa to the seat, the banging started again.
“Coming, sorry!” I called. My voice was thready and a little too soft. My dick was also still hard—and I only noticed because Camillo stared at me in horror.
“Fix that,” he hissed.
I shoved my hand down the front of my pants and tucked my cock into my waistband, shoving my shirt over the front and saying a little prayer as I walked to the door. I hadn’t realized I’d locked it after getting the food.
That was…bold of me.
“Hi,” I said to the guard I’d seen earlier. “Sorry, we got caught up going over a few scenes.”
“I’m here to escort His Highness to his car,” the man grunted.
I turned and almost tripped over Camillo, whose wheels were at the backs of my knees. I swore, all but jumping over him as he shoved past me. “Uh. See you?”
Camillo looked back for a brief second, and there was nothing in his face that said we’d just done what we’d done. It felt a little like a fever dream.
Was this how it was going to go? Was this how it had to go?
After a short second, he gave a stiff nod, then gave a hard push and rolled all the way down the ramp, past his guard, and to the door that led to the parking garage. It opened with a heavy creak, the hinges moving slowly from the automatic button, and then it closed the same way.
The guard was still standing in front of me. He looked a little old for his post—greying hair, crow’s feet, and a novel of lines on his forehead. He gave me a swift up and down, then turned on his heel and stalked off.
I had no idea what to think. My body was still on fire from where he’d touched me. My lips were aching for his again. How was I supposed to go on knowing what he tasted like with no idea if I’d ever have the chance again?
Just as I got the door closed, my phone began to buzz on the table, and my heart kicked up a few notches as I walked over to pick it up. I was entirely unsurprised to find Camillo’s name on the screen.
I didn’t want to read the message. There wasn’t a chance in hell it was going to say what I wanted it to say.
But I did it anyway.
HRH Camillo: Tell no one.
I didn’t want to reply. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, and while I understood why he had to say that in writing, I couldn’t help but feel an ache behind my ribs at realizing it was the only thing he was going to say to me.
Flopping back down on the sofa, I pretended like I couldn’t still feel the echo of his warmth in the fabric. I tapped my fingers on my phone, then finally took a breath to give him the peace of mind I wasn’t sure he deserved.
Me: You got it. Not a word. It never happened.