Page 163 of The Unlikely Spare

“Good things, I hope.” He’s watching me with navy eyes, lips swollen and red, water droplets caught in his lashes like diamonds.

“The best things.”

We kiss again, slower this time, savoring the slide of tongues and the taste of each other mixed with shower water.

My legs are barely steady when we finally break apart, both of us breathing hard.

The shower suddenly feels too small, too limiting for what we need. Luckily, it appears Nicholas is on the same wavelength.

“Bed,” Nicholas manages to gasp out. “Need you properly. Now.”

We fumble to shut off the water, grabbing towels but barely bothering to use them, too focused on not breaking contact. We stumble into the bedroom and tumble onto the bed in a tangle of damp limbs.

“So demanding,” I murmur, but I’m already reaching for him again, unable to keep my hands off him for even a moment.

“You love it,” he says with that wicked smile, pulling me down on top of him.

“I do,” I admit. “But I think it’s my turn.”

I kiss my way down his body, taking my time, learning what makes him gasp and arch beneath me. I chase the water droplets still clinging to his skin with my tongue.

But there’s no desperate urgency this time, no fear that someone will burst through the door or that we’re stealing moments between catastrophes.

When I reach his cock, I look up at him. His damp hair curls slightly at the edges.

“I see you’re going straight to advanced techniques,” he manages, then his head falls back as I take him in my mouth.

I work him slowly, thoroughly, using every trick I know to drive him wild. His hands fist the sheets, hips straining againstmy hold as I keep him pinned in place. The sounds he makes are incredible—desperate little gasps and moans that go straight to my cock.

“Eoin, please,” he pants. “I need…I can’t…”

I pull off just long enough to say, “Tell me what you need.”

“You. Inside me. Now.”

“So demanding.” But I’m already reaching for the lube and condoms he must have conveniently extracted from his luggage, slicking my fingers. “Lucky for you, I’m in an accommodating mood.”

“Since when?” he gasps as I press one slick finger inside him.

“Since you asked so nicely.” His body opens for me so beautifully, muscles relaxing as he adjusts to the stretch. I work him open carefully, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. But all I see is pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed as I add a second finger.

“More,” he demands, pushing back against my hand.

“Patience,” I murmur, but the sight of him taking me so eagerly, the feel of his body opening for me, makes me hard as nails and desperate for it. “Don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He reaches for me, pulling me down for a messy kiss. “I trust you not to hurt me.”

Those three words hit me harder than any declaration of love could. This prince, who’s been betrayed by nearly everyone he’s ever trusted. I want to be worthy of this, of him, of the faith he’s placing in me when faith has cost him so much.

I put on the condom, line myself up, and push in slowly, watching his face the entire time. The flutter of his lashes, the way his brow furrows then smooths, how his mouth falls open on a soft gasp as I sink deeper. The heat of him is overwhelming, tight and perfect, and I have to pause to breathe, to stop myself from losing control entirely.

My whole body trembles with the effort of going slow, every nerve ending focused on the exquisite drag of flesh against flesh.

“All right?” I ask when I’m fully seated, my voice rough as sandpaper.

“Perfect,” he breathes, and his eyes find mine, blue and as impossibly deep as Galway Bay. “You’re perfect. Now move before I combust.”

I start slow, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, building a rhythm that has us both panting. The slide of our bodies together is exquisite torture. Our skin is still slick from the shower, making every movement fluid and easy. His legs hitch up farther, pulling me deeper, and the angle changes in a way that makes him cry out, back arching off the bed.