Page 41 of Royal Bargain

His fingers slip into mine. The way he holds my hand is gentle, but there’s something grounded in it too. Like he already knows this matters. Like he’s not just leading me upstairs—he’s leading me back to something I thought I’d lost for good.

The stairs creak under us, each step a soft exhale. We don’t speak, but the silence is anything but empty. It’s full—alive with every unsaid word, every breath we’ve been holding.

At the top, he pauses. Just enough time for me to change my mind.

I don’t.

The bedroom is dim and golden, light pooling across the sheets like a quiet welcome. When he lets go of my hand, it’s only to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His thumb brushes my cheek—barely there. I close my eyes and lean into it.

Yes, I think. Even if I never say it out loud.Yes. I want this. I want him.

He cups my face, eyes searching mine. The kiss he gives me is soft—slow. Like a question.

I answer with a sigh, my hands pressed lightly to his chest. There’s no rush. No script. Just the warmth of him and the way he makes me feel steady again.

His hands move to the hem of my top. He hesitates. I nod.

When he lifts it, it’s careful. Intentional. Like every inch of fabric he pulls away is part of a vow he hasn’t spoken yet.

And when he touches me—really touches me—it’s reverent. Like he’s memorizing, not just feeling. Like he’s afraid I might vanish if he isn’t gentle.

Every piece of clothing he removes feels less like undressing and more like unveiling. Like he’s peeling away the parts of me I’ve hidden from the world—and myself.

I reach out and undress him in return, trying to match his pace, his gentleness. As I move, I take in every inch of him like I’m trying to memorize this moment.

His skin’s warm under my hands. Solid. Real. I let them wander—chest, shoulders, a line down his ribs. I don’t rush. I just… take a minute. To feel him. To breathe.

Liam doesn’t talk. Just watches me, eyes soft. Like he doesn’t totally believe I’m here. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t know what to do with it.

His hands come to my waist again, thumbs brushing in slow circles, like muscle memory. He leans in and kisses me—deeper this time. It’s not frantic, but there’s heat there. A little bit of hunger under all the quiet.

He kisses down my jaw, to my neck, to my shoulder. Slow, like he’s got nowhere else to be.

When he says my name, it’s not loud. Barely there. But it hits like a weight.

I tilt my head without thinking, just trying to give him more. My fingers are in his hair now, and I’m not even sure when that happened. Everything’s kind of blurry, in the best way.

His mouth keeps going—collarbone, down my chest—and I can feel the shiver coming before it even starts.

When his hands slide up, over my ribs, I arch toward him. Not on purpose. Just instinct.

Then he looks up. His eyes are dark and wide, and there’s something in them that knocks the breath out of me. It’s not just lust. It’s him.

“I want to make you feel good,” he says, voice low. “Tell me what you need, Ana.”

He reaches for my hand, laces our fingers together like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he doesn’t.

We move to the bed. Sheets are still rumpled from earlier. Doesn’t matter. Right now, it feels like the safest place in the world.

We don’t say anything. Just get in. Face each other.

There’s a beat—long enough to feel it—and then he touches my face, light and careful. His thumb brushes my lips, and I kiss it, small and soft.

He kisses me again. Slower than before. No rush. No pressure. Just him, and me, and whatever this is building into.

His hands begin to explore, not with greed but with reverence. Fingertips skim over my arms, down my sides, across the dip of my waist. He touches me like I’m something to be treasured, not consumed.

I slide my hands down his back—slow at first, unsure, just getting a feel for him. He’s solid, warm. There’s muscle, yeah,but also this softness in certain places that makes me want to stay close. He shivers a little when I touch the base of his spine, and then he kisses me again. This time it’s deeper. Less guarded. Like he’s finally letting go.