Page 49 of How to Date a Prince

“I don’t have a condom. Do you?” I ask.

“I wasn’t planning on any action tonight, I’ve got to say. We can do some other things, though. I have a few ideas.”

“I know. But, how about…” I consider him, chewing my lip, feeling raw. “We wait. I mean, more sex won’t make things easier, will it? Maybe we should try to sleep instead. And if you want, you can stay. Or you can go.”

His fingers run lightly down my arms, and I shiver as he pushes my jacket off my shoulders. I let it fall to the floor. Neither of us looks away.

“I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

I lead Thomas to bed, and we climb in. The mattress is plush and the bed more than big enough for the two of us. Thomas rests on the pillows against the headboard, watching me appreciatively. I slide into his open arm, which curls around me a moment later. His fingers rest on my forearm.

With my head pillowed against him, I listen to his heartbeat. I can’t remember the last time I was with a man, so close like this. It’s been a very long time. And now, despite my earlier bravado, I feel a lot more exposed. Even without sex, I feel like I’ve revealed a lot of who I am tonight to Thomas. And the added emotion of the studio sabotage has heightened everything, especially after the earlier shock evisceration by Colin. I should have known better than to trust him. Who knows—as far as I know, even Thomas could be a setup from the show to lower my guard.

And yet here I am, guard evidently lowered.

“If something matters to you, you have to fight for what you want,” Thomas breathes against my skin as I drowse in the safety of his arms. “Prove to everyone what you’re made of.”

“Mm.” I nestle closer, mulling over his advice. “I’m glad you’re here,” I murmur back.

His slight squeeze comforts me, the reassuring warmth of his body against mine, the rhythm of his breath. And although it takes a few minutes, I fall asleep in Thomas’ arms.

ChapterNineteen

The problem with the morning is that Thomas is gone.

Sensible, I tell the hollow of disappointment inside my chest. The more reasonable part of me recognizes this is very sensible. I’m already half-hard at the memory of him so close to me. Even if it’s impossible. A fling for a night or two won’t hurt anything. Though I can hardly ask Colin or Gisele for condoms, and I can’t exactly nip out to the corner shop. I’m definitely not ordering some for delivery in this place for the crew to receive and open.

I squint at the clock, and it’s gone half ten in the morning. Thankfully, I caught a few hours of sleep, despite everything yesterday. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

I should be thinking about the pottery mess in the shed. Not about the sensation of Thomas’ tongue flicking the head of my cock. Or the thrilling sensation of his fingers teasing my balls, till everything was tight and hot, every nerve in my body on fire for him.

My fingers slide inside my shorts, and I start to stroke myself, shivering at the memory of being with Thomas. The way he looked up at me as he took me into his mouth. And how I wanted him, so desperately. And even more—how he made me feel that night, special and wanted and, most of all, his.

Pushing my clothes out of the way, I keep going with my daydream about Thomas’ mouth and the tease of his body against mine, working a rhythm while I long for his mouth, till I spill hot across my stomach and chest. I flop back into the pillows, shivering. I curl and uncurl my toes, stretch out my legs.

Cleaning up, I have a cold shower and mentally prepare for whatever’s transpired out there. I blast some Taylor at volume on my phone as I towel myself off, peering at my toned reflection closely as I shave away blond stubble. I do three sets of push-ups and sit-ups out in the main room. I change into a blue linen shirt and jeans before heading downstairs for tea.

As it turns out, I’ve reached the tea station when a crew member rushes up to me. “Oh! Your Royal Highness. We’ve been waiting for you.”

On her heels is a film crew, naturally. And fucking Colin.

Here we go.

I tilt my head, gazing at her. “Rose, is it?” I think that’s her name.

She beams at me. “I’m impressed you remember.”

“I try.”

A shadow falls over her face, the good cheer diminished in her eyes as Colin and Gisele approach.

“Auggie,” says Colin.

I give him side-eye before turning to look at him, impassive. I fold my arms across my chest. After yesterday, he’s not in my good books. I’m not making the same mistake again. He looks worriedly at me, wringing his hands. It’s convincing, and yet.

“I’m afraid there’s been some terrible news.” Colin stands beside me, in shot of the camera, with everyone else standing back. The film and sound crew is tight and coordinated with their impeccable coordination and slick moves.

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