Page 31 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

“Yes,” I breathe. “For the duration of the show, if you want. Meaningless sex. Nothing else.”

“My favorite. And for the record, I understand that this is very much a Montagues vs Capulets situation.” His eyes sparkle. And then he draws me deep.

“Speaking of—God, your mouth—” I gasp.

Thomas leans his head back, his hands resting on my thighs as he considers me. “You were saying?”

Blood has evacuated my brain. And yet. I draw a deep breath. “I’m upset with you.”

Thomas sits back on his heels, a crease between his brows. Part of me wants to smooth it away. “Upset with me?”

“Yes. Any guesses why?”

He frowns. “No. Tell me why.”

A sigh escapes my lips. I cross my arms across my chest as my robe still hangs open. More than that, my heart’s exposed.

“The rally, Thomas. The anti-monarchy rally Saturday night you attended—actually, helped host if I’m not mistaken—and didn’t tell me about, even though we were together the night before.”

“Oh.” He remains on his knees, eyes widening as his cheeks flush. “Auggie, I’ve always been clear with you I’m opposed to the monarchy?—”

“You should have told me.” I frown too. My face also burns. “If you cared about me at all, you would have been honest?—”

“I didn’t lie.” He bristles.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Not telling you something isn’t a lie,” he retorts hotly, eyes flashing.

All of a sudden, everything’s unraveling. Inevitable, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

“It’s a betrayal of my trust,” I say, hurt. “It’s misleading and deceitful.”

He scowls up at me. “The rally wasn’t about you?—”

“Actually, yes, it is. I’m next in line to inherit the throne. Which feels far closer than I want to think about.”

“That’s not my fault,” Thomas says defensively. “Auggie, be reasonable.”

“I’m not being unreasonable.” My jaw lifts. “I should have known. I knew this was a bad idea in the first place?—”

“I care about you, Auggie. More than you know. I wanted to protect you. Not everything is about you either?—”

“What’s it about, then?” I ask impatiently.

“My family. My father. He has to come first.” Thomas stares me down.

My shoulders tighten. “As does mine,” I say softly. “There are expectations of me?—”

“Don’t you believe in free will and democracy?” Thomas runs a hand roughly through his hair, his voice rising. “This isn’t Throwback Thursday to medieval times. Even if we are on a show called Renaissance Man . Who do you think you are—King Arthur?”

“Oh. My. God.” I hold my face in my hands as it burns, staring at Thomas. “This is a ridiculous situation.”

Thomas looks wounded. “You should do what you want?—”

“I can’t! That’s the whole point!” I erupt at last. “There’s service and duty and society. And community. And yes, there’s tradition that’s sometimes a chokehold, but it’s also part of being something much greater than me. And can do a lot of good for many people.”

We stare at each other until my eyes flood. I turn away. “Fuck.” Roughly, I wipe at my eyes with the cuff of my robe. “This is impossible.”

“Hey.” Thomas’ voice is soft. “I want you, remember?”

“How can I be your lover when we have our real lives to live, Thomas? This situation has a very short shelf life.”

“I don’t want to give you up,” Thomas says curtly. “But it’s fucking a lot to have you running hot and cold every five minutes.”

I turn at last to stare hard at him. His familiar features, those green eyes I love so much, which see far more than I should have revealed. “We’re over when this show is over. This is just sex now—and we need rules.”

“What rules?”

“No weekend contact. Only when we’re filming.”

“Okay.”

“And when the show wraps or one of us gets kicked off, that’s it. No more. Everything remains a secret, before and after.”

“Mm, added incentive to win.” Thomas grins up at me. My breath catches at the sight of him. I’m already getting hard again, all the raw emotion surging through me. “All the more time together.”

“You’ve got a lot of faith in #TeamAuggie, I see.”

“After last week? I have my competition cut out?—”

“Too much talking. More sucking,” I command.

“Bossy.” And he obliges. Till I can’t manage any more words for some time, and I draw him over to the bed.

“Strip,” I say.

Thomas strips. I run my hand over the landscape of his body.

His gaze softens, a vulnerability in his eyes. “You know I’ll miss you when this is over.”

I don’t trust myself to say anything. Instead, I kiss him hard, our mouths crushed together as our hands find each other, and my heart thunders as it leaps far too close to something like feelings, want, and desire crashing into each other.

Then, I let my dressing gown fall to the floor. And I pull him on top of me onto the bed.

We lose ourselves in the ecstasy of each other’s bodies.

“Another rule,” I gasp against his skin, lifting my head from the pillow. Thomas lifts his head from between my thighs.

“Yes?” He grins wickedly as I reel with abrupt absence of his mouth. I arch my back, seeking his lips. My heart pounds, relentless in its beat.

“You’ve got to be absolutely, totally silent,” I tell him in a dazed whisper. “And nobody falls asleep. You must leave as soon as this is over.”

“That, I think, makes at least three rules. Your math is terrible, my liege.”

“Maths,” I correct. “My bed, my rules. Also: no hickeys.”

“Safe word?”

I smirk. “Aubergine.”

Thomas kisses my inner thigh, sparking a shudder down my body. “Sounds posh. I don’t even know what that is.”

“Oh, I’ll show you?—”

My body’s covered in goose bumps. He rakes his fingers down my sides, cupping my arse in his capable fingers.

“Anything else?” he whispers.

“Lube and condoms and anything else you might desire is in the top drawer—” I gasp, reeling. I clutch the bedsheets.

Thomas pauses long enough to take stock. He lets out a low whistle at the options before I lean forward and smother his mouth with my hand.

“Quiet,” I murmur a warning, then reach to silence his lips with a finger.

He nibbles at my fingers, smiling. And I swear I’ve died and gone to heaven as he pulls out the lube and a condom. “You better get ready, Your Royal Highness. Because you’ve got something coming, alright. Watch out, you and your princely aubergine.”

“I love coming—” I gasp as our mouths meet in a fierce kiss, pulling him tight. I wrap my legs around his, shuddering. “—even more than I like riding.”

Soon, our bodies move together with our gazes locked as he enters me.

The ecstasy is nearly unbearable. Everything I want and am and need lies exposed.

Thomas buries his face against my collarbone, soon thrusting with desperate urgency as he grips me with viselike fingers.

It’s not long before he comes with a strangled cry.

I follow soon after, spilling a hot path across our stomachs.

And then he stays like that, all rumpled and flushed and mine.

He holds my gaze. And neither one of us can speak quite then.

Then, inevitably, my mouth makes an appearance, along with my conscience. Impeccable timing.

“Katie was never my girlfriend,” I blurt as we try to catch our breath.

“What?”

“She wasn’t even my fake girlfriend. Or maybe-girlfriend.”

Thomas shifts to the side, frowning. He deals with the condom and settles back into bed. “What are you saying? What was that in the club, then? When I met you with your friend.”

“I—I used her as a cover up. So that you wouldn’t think I was gay.

Or the public. Which is a totally shit thing of me to do, and I’m sorry, and I’ve apologized to her—but not to you.

I’m terribly sorry. Of course there’s nothing wrong with being gay.

It’s just complicated as a royal, especially as the heir to the throne?—”

“Why—why didn’t you tell me before?” he snaps, eyes flashing, his jaw tight. “That’s low, Auggie. How could you use your friend like that?”

“She’s not just a friend. She’s my best friend in the whole world.”

“That actually makes things worse—” Thomas sits up abruptly, pushing the blankets away.

“I thought I had an idea about the sort of person you are. But maybe all the things my father tells me about the Royal Family are true after all. All you think about is looking after yourself and the rest of us are pawns in your games.”

“That’s not true. God. Shit. Forget the rules I told you earlier.” I whisper unsteadily, my heart battering my chest like it’s trying to escape the cage of my ribs, also not wanting anything to do with me. “Let me try to explain about Katie. Let me make it up to you?—”

“You—no. No.” And Thomas gets up abruptly. “I’m done with this. With you. What a mistake.”

He dresses with unsteady fingers and storms out before I find adequate words to explain, leaving me cold and alone in my bed.