Page 59 of The Unlikely Heir

And despite that smirk, despite his betrayal, I find myself stepping forward.

And I kiss him.

I’m screeching inside because I know I shouldn’t be kissing him. He betrayed me. He doesn’t even like me.

But I really, really want to kiss him.

The knowledge hits me like a hammer, and it pounds through my veins like some kind of truth elixir with every beat of my heart.

But suddenly, I realize it’s not Cliff under my lips but Oliver Hartwell.

Discovering this makes me relax. I can trust Oliver. Oliver would never do anything to hurt me.

It turns out I want to kiss Oliver more than I ever wanted to kiss Cliff because my kiss with him turns wild and frantic, a mess of teeth and tongues. I wrap my arms around his waist to pull him closer, pressing my body against his. The lower half of our bodies lock together, and suddenly I feel a firming in my groin…

Holy shit.

My eyes fly open.

I lurch up in bed, my chest heaving with my breaths, my heart thumping.

It takes me a minute to orient myself.

I’m the Prince of Wales. I’m in Buckingham Palace. I’ve just been dreaming about kissing Oliver Hartwell, the British prime minister.

And I have a raging hard-on.

Holy, holy shit.

I lean over to switch on the light, and the room is flooded with brightness, making me blink.

I pull back the covers because my brain needs to see the evidence that one part of my body is extremely happy about what happened in my dream.

Yep, my erection straining against my pajama pants is not a figment of my imagination.

I flop back on my pillow.

My hand drifts down almost against my will, and suddenly, I’m stroking myself.

My mind drifts back to what it was like to kiss Dream-Oliver, how our bodies had pressed together, and my imagination takes over, and I’m kissing him again. He’s pressing me up against a wall, his body firm and unwieldy against mine, and my cock is hard against him, and I can feel him firming up against me, and we’re grinding against each other…

And I’m suddenly coming harder than ever, with Oliver’s name on my lips.

Holy shit.

Oliver.

Holy, holy shit.

My breath comes in frantic gasps as I clean myself up, my mind racing back over my dream.

Cliff. Kissing Cliff. How much I wanted to kiss him, despite what he did to me, spilling my secrets to the whole world.

Oh my god.

I feel like my whole body has been out of alignment my entire life, and now the world’s most gifted chiropractor has suddenly clicked things into place.

How had I not figured this out before? The desire I always had to impress Cliff, my nervousness around him, my devastation when he’d done that interview about me.