Page 111 of The Unlikely Heir

“Oliver.” He says my name like a caress.

I wedge my hand between us to stroke his cock in time with my thrusts. He hooks his legs up even higher like he’s trying to draw me further inside him.

I study his face carefully, memorizing the clean angles of his cheekbones, his dilated pupils, the flush of his skin.

“Oliver.” Callum moans again, and this time it’s accompanied by his whole body tensing, pulsing as he comes and comes.

I only last a few more strokes before I’m hurtling over the edge.

When I come back into my body, I kiss his eyelids that have fluttered shut. I kiss from his cheekbones down to his jaw and into the soft skin of his neck before pulling back to study him.

Callum opens his eyes.

“I love…” he says, and my breath hitches because it’s become a joke between us how Callum manages to say he loves me in so many different ways without actually saying the words.

“That,” he finishes, and I huff a laugh, a wisp of breath against his skin, then lean forward to kiss him again.

A few minutes later, we’ve cleaned up and are back in bed. I can’t put into words how good it feels to have Callum in my arms, his blond hair tousled, his eyes heavy-lidded and sated.

“So, I’ve been looking at the list of LGBTQ+ royalty in history,” Callum says.

I can’t help smiling. Of course Callum has investigated LGBTQ+ royalty. One of the many things I love about him is his infinitely curious brain.

“What did you discover?” I ask.

“Lots of Roman and Chinese emperors were queer. Did you know that of the twelve recognized emperors of the Western Han dynasty, ten had at least one male partner?”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Apparently, one of the terms for homosexuality in China is ‘passion of the cut sleeve.’ It comes from the story of how Emperor Ai of the Han dynasty woke up from a nap to find his lover Dong still sleeping, and rather than waking Dong up, he cut off his sleeve so he could continue to sleep.”

“Now that’s romance,” I comment.

The smile disappears from Callum’s face. “Yeah, unfortunately, the story doesn’t end quite as romantically.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Just the usual royal story of corruption, betrayal, and death,” he says softly.

I stare at his frown, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

How will our story end?

Is there any chance it can end happily? Or are we going to join the litany of tragic couples in history?

The odds are not on our side.

I’ve never disregarded the future to pursue my happiness now. It’s one of the gifts that Callum has given me, teaching me to live in the moment.

Callum’s pulled a sheet up over his chest. I trail a hand down his side, touching the soft skin of his waist, running my fingers up his rib cage.

All the straight lines and curves of Callum’s body are beginning to feel like the geometry that underpins my life.

My need to claim this man is so strong that I find myself pulling back from him to reach up and remove the dog tags from around my neck.

“I want you to have these.”

Callum stares at me. “I can’t take your dog tags, Oliver.”