Page 66 of How to Date a Prince

And I make a choice. I lean over ever so slightly. “2:00 a.m.,” I murmur. “My room. We need to talk.”

Then, I walk away.

* * *

When there’s a soft knock on my door at 2:00 a.m., I open it after checking the door viewer. Thomas waits, languid, smiling with his hands in his pockets. His green eyes sparkle. He’s in a black T-shirt and athletic shorts, I suppose getting a head start on the theme of sporting. I stand back to let him in, heavy-hearted.

A soft light glows from a lamp on the bureau, the only source of light in the large room. The door clicks shut behind him, and I flip the lock. All of the windows are as open as far they can go for any hope of a breeze, but the air remains still.

“Mm, I like this,” says Thomas, running his hands over my arms, covered by my silk black-and-purple floral dressing gown.

I tilt my head, considering him, then let my robe fall open.

“Fuck, I like this look even more.” Thomas gazes at me in frank admiration, running his hand down my chest to take my cock in his hand.

I shiver, forcing myself to focus. It’s important Thomas understands there are limits to this fling. If I’m honest with myself, I’m establishing the rules for my benefit too. So I don’t get emotionally invested. Because feelings only lead to problems. Then, it’s next to impossible to think clearly with Thomas’ teasing. “We need to have rules.”

“Rules?” Thomas looks intrigued, then sinks to his knees on the plush rug. “Sounds hot. What sort of rules?” He tastes the tip of my cock.

“For us.” I shudder, my gaze fixed on him, hardening. The immediate shift in blood flow from my brain to parts decidedly south is dramatic. “You know, otherwise, this is only going to be, err, harder. Our situation is utterly impossible beyond a tryst.”

“Tryst,” he confirms, flicking his tongue along my shaft, teasing the length of me.

“Yes,” I breathe. “For the duration of the show, if you want. Meaningless sex. Nothing else.”

“My favorite. And for the record, I understand that this is very much a Montagues vs Capulets situation.” His eyes sparkle. And then he draws me deep.

“Speaking of—God, your mouth—” I gasp.

Thomas leans his head back, his hands resting on my thighs as he considers me. “You were saying?”

Blood has evacuated my brain. And yet. I draw a deep breath. “I’m upset with you.”

Thomas sits back on his heels, a crease between his brows. Part of me wants to smooth it away. “Upset with me?”

“Yes. Any guesses why?”

He frowns. “No. Tell me why.”

A sigh escapes my lips. I cross my arms across my chest as my robe still hangs open. More than that, my heart’s exposed.

“The rally, Thomas. The anti-monarchy rally Saturday night you attended—actually, helped host if I’m not mistaken—and didn’t tell me about, even though we were together the night before.”

“Oh.” He remains on his knees, eyes widening as his cheeks flush. “Auggie, I’ve always been clear with you I’m opposed to the monarchy?—”

“You should have told me.” I frown too. My face also burns. “If you cared about me at all, you would have been honest?—”

“I didn’t lie.” He bristles.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Not telling you something isn’t a lie,” he retorts hotly, eyes flashing.

All of a sudden, everything’s unraveling. Inevitable, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

“It’s a betrayal of my trust,” I say, hurt. “It’s misleading and deceitful.”

He scowls up at me. “The rally wasn’t about you?—”

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