Page 18 of Sweet on the Royal Guard

I step closer, fighting the urge to pull him into my arms. “I understand,” I say softly. “And I won’t pretend it’ll be easy. But, Benedict, please don’t run away because of this. We can figure it out together.”

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of Benedict’s confession settle between us. His eyes, warm and uncertain, search my face for answers. I’ve got to make this right.

“Benedict,” I begin, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. “The press issue? It’s handled. Prince Charlie’s got our backs.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Prince Charlie? How did he?—”

“Let’s just say he’s got experience dealing with media circuses,” I explain, a small smile tugging at my lips. “He’s redirecting their attention. You won’t have to worry about intrusive reporters or your privacy being violated.”

Benedict’s shoulders relax slightly, but I can still see the doubt lingering in his eyes. I step closer, my hands itching to reach out and touch him.

“I know it’s scary,” I continue, my voice softening. “But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to protect you, to give us a chance to explore…whatever this is between us.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across Benedict’s face. “You’d do that for me?”

“In a heartbeat,” I reply, then add with a grin, “You know, I think I might be Benadicted to you.” I continue, reaching for the box I brought with me, “You’re like these apple cinnamon donuts. Sweet, comforting, and impossible to resist.”

I pop open the lid, the warm, spicy scent filling the air between us. Benedict’s eyes widen, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in their depths.

“Did you really just compare me to a pastry?” he asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

I shrug, feeling my cheeks heat up. “What can I say? I’m a man of refined tastes.”

Benedict’s laugh, warm and genuine, fills the room, easing the tension that had built up. As he reaches for a donut, I hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ve turned a corner.

As our laughter subsides, Benedict’s eyes lock onto mine. There’s a shift in the air, electric and intense. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s pulling me close, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that sets every nerve ending on fire.

I melt into him, tasting the sweetness of apple and cinnamon on his tongue. My hands find their way to his waist, pulling him flush against me. The warmth of his body, the soft sigh that escapes him—it’s intoxicating.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, I grin. “Wow,” I gasp, “that was…”

“Long overdue,” Benedict finishes, a mischievous glint in his eye. He takes my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Come on.”

My heart races as he leads me through the cottage. “Where are we going?”

“My room,” he says simply, throwing a smile over his shoulder that makes my knees weak.

When we get to the bedroom, he throws himself on the bed, pulling me with him so I land on top of him. My lips seek his immediately.

As we break apart, both breathless, I grin. “You know,” I say, running my fingers through Benedict’s soft hair, “I think I might be more addicted to you than to apple cinnamon donuts. And that’s saying something.”

Benedict laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. “I’m flattered to outrank pastries in your affections,” he teases, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips.

I lean in, nuzzling his neck. “Mmm, you’re definitely sweeter,” I murmur against his skin.

He shivers, tightening his grip on me. “Zeke,” he breathes, “are you sure about this? About us?”

I pull back to meet his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there. It hits me how much we’ve both risked to be here, how much we stand to gain—or lose.

“I’ve never been surer of anything,” I say firmly.

As we laugh and kiss, I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of rightness. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it head-on. For now, though, I’m content to lose myself in Benedict, in the promise of our future, and in the knowledge that sometimes, the best things in life are worth jumping a few walls for.