Page 127 of Reckless Royalty

I let my fingers trail over the burning rose tattoo near his heart, then down to the faint scars scattered across his torso. He watches me intently, his chest rising and falling steadily, though there’s a tension in his shoulders that tells me he’s still wound tight.

“You’re beautiful, Mihai,” I say softly and I watch as his smirk falters, replaced by a look of something I can’t quite place. Surprise? He glances away for a split second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the compliment.

“Beautiful, huh?” he says, his voice softer, almost sheepish. “Never been called that before.”

I laugh quietly, the sound echoing softly in the steamy shower. “What, no one’s ever complimented you before? I find that hard to believe.”

He scratches the back of his neck, the movement oddly endearing for someone who’s usually so confident, so larger-than-life.

“They have, but… not like that.” He glances back at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Not in a way that felt real.”

My chest tightens, and I let my hand rest on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “Well, it is real. You’re beautiful, Mihai. Inside and out.”

His lips twitch into a small, uncertain smile, and I swear I can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. The sight of it, of this man who’s always so in control looking so human, makes my heart squeeze in the best way.

I clear my throat and reach for his belt. “Let me,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

His brows draw together slightly, but he nods. I undo his belt and slide it through the loops before pulling his pants down, along with his boxers. He kicks them aside, leaving him completely bare before me.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen him like this, but it still leaves me momentarily stunned. He’s all hard lines and raw power, his body a testament to discipline and strength. Yet there’s a vulnerability in the way he stands there, letting me take control for once.

I step back and pull the zipper of my dress down, letting it pool at my feet. Mihai’s gaze darkens as his eyes roam over me, but he stays where he is, waiting. I take his hand again and lead him into the shower, the warm water cascading over both of us.

He lets out a low groan as the water hits his skin, his head tilting back slightly. “Fuck, that feels good.”

I reach for the soap, lathering it in my hands before pressing them to his chest. His muscles tense under my touch at first, but as I begin to move my hands, working the lather over his skin, I feel him start to relax.

“This is different,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“What is?”

“You taking care of me,” he says simply, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m not used to it.”

I smile softly, my hands gliding over his shoulders and down his arms. “Get used to it, Crown Prince.”

He watches me closely as I continue, his body slowly but surely losing the tension it carried. My hands trace over the tattoos on his chest, the ones I’ve come to know so well, and I take my time, letting the water wash away the soap as I go.

“You’re good at this,” he says after a while, his tone lighter now.

“At washing you?” I tease.

“At making me feel like this,” he admits, his voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Like I can breathe again.”

I pause, my hands resting on his chest as I look up at him. His expression is open in a way that’s rare for him, and it makes my heart ache in the best way.

“You deserve a moment of calm, Mihai,” I say softly. “You deserve more than you let yourself believe.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out. Then he leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it,” I whisper, my lips brushing against his. “A few times, actually.”

“Maybe I should’ve listened to myself,” he mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

I move behind him, running my hands over his back, my thumbs pressing gently into the knots of tension in his shoulders. His head falls forward, a low groan escaping his lips as the water streams over us.

“That good, huh?” I tease, smiling to myself.

“Don’t get cocky,” he grumbles, though the edge in his tone is softened by the obvious relief in his posture. “But… yeah. That good.”

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