His lips left mine just as the last of my breath slipped away, leaving gasping for air in the dimly lit room. Ti seed to stretch and contract simultaneously, the world narrowing to just the two of us.
I exhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling with each uneven breath, my head light from more than just the lack of oxygen. Through my hazy vision, I t Arthur's gaze—smug, unchallenged, and far too damn handso for his own good. The faint light caught the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that only enhanced his allure.
"Hmm," he mused, grinning down at , one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly perfect way. "I thought you were confident, Princess?"
'Damn him.'
I swallowed hard, trying to regain so semblance of composure. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, my fingers twitching in his grip, betraying the effect he had on . The cool silk of the couch beneath contrasted with the heat radiating from where our bodies touched.
Because he had pinned.
Our fingers interlocked, his weight holding firmly in place, his presence everywhere—surrounding , consuming . The scent of his cologne mingled with sothing uniquely him, making it impossible to think clearly.
But this...
This was new.
A side of him I hadn't expected—hadn't even imagined in my most secret thoughts. The perfect, composed royal advisor was gone, replaced by sothing raw and unrestrained.
"It's only been thirty minutes, you know," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to make my stomach twist into a thousand knots.
His grip tightened slightly, just enough to send a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. My breath caught as his eyes darkened, pupils dilating until there was just a thin ring of azure surrounding endless black.
"I'm not done with you yet."
Those six words hung in the air between us, weighted with promise. I sucked in a breath, my heart hamring against my ribs so loudly I was certain he could hear it. My mind scrambled for sothing—anything—to say that wouldn't reveal just how much power he held over in that mont.
But all I could do was stare at him, transfixed.
This dominant side of Arthur... this was unexpected. And yet...
I found myself liking it.
A little too much.
The realization should have frightened —I, who had spent my entire life fighting for control, for autonomy in a world that sought to dictate my every move. Instead, I felt myself lting into his touch, surrendering in a way I'd never allowed myself before.
"How do you feel?" Arthur's voice dipped low, husky with desire, his breath warm against my ear, sending an electric shiver down my spine that seed to ignite every nerve ending along the way.
Before I could answer, his lips brushed my cheek—soft, teasing, deliberate. The ghost of a touch that promised more.
Our eyes locked. In that mont, I saw sothing shift in his gaze—vulnerability beneath the confidence, a question beneath the demand. He was giving a choice, even now.
And I chose him.
My hand moved to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer.
And then— We kissed again.
This ti, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips claid mine with a hunger that matched my own, stealing my breath and my thoughts in equal asure. The world dissolved around us, reality narrowing to the points where our bodies connected.
Then— The door slid open with a soft whoosh.
Arthur shifted instantly, his body shielding mine from view, a protective gesture that sent a flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with our interrupted kiss.
"Get out. I'm busy." His tone was calm, almost indifferent—like he wasn't currently pinning a princess to a couch, his lips still tingling from mine, his hair mussed from my fingers. The steel in his voice left no room for argunt or explanation.
Whoever it was didn't hesitate. The door shut again just as quickly as it had opened, followed by hurried footsteps receding down the hallway.
I exhaled sharply, suddenly aware of how this would look if word got out. My reputation, already the subject of endless court gossip, would be in tatters. "Who was that?"
"So random noble," Arthur barely spared it a thought, dismissing the intrusion as inconsequential. His attention slid back to like I was the only thing in the room that mattered—the only thing in the entire mansion worthy of his focus. "No one important."
I opened my mouth to say sothing—
"Focus on ," he murmured, cutting off as he kissed again. His fingers skimd my jaw, tilting my head just enough to deepen it, to make forget what I was about to say. His thumb traced the outline of my bottom lip, a gentle contrast to the intensity of his gaze.
When we finally broke apart, his lips curled into a taunting grin, eyes glittering with challenge and amusent.
"Didn't you say you wanted to get your lipstick all over ?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to that register that seed to resonate directly with my pulse. "Is the princess chickening out now?"
A slow heat crept up my neck, spreading across my cheeks in what I knew was a telling blush. The reminder of my earlier boldness—my teasing promise made in a mont of daring—now returned as a challenge.
I narrowed my eyes before wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him in close enough to feel his heart racing against mine. Two could play at this ga.
"Chickening out?" I whispered against his lips, letting my breath mingle with his. "Do you think that's possible, Nightingale?"
The nickna—my private na for him, derived from the lullabies he used to sing when we were children—slipped out unbidden. Sothing flickered in his eyes—recognition, nostalgia, desire—before his expression settled into one of approval.
Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Good."
And then we kissed again. And again. And again.
Ti blurred, the minutes lting into each other like watercolors on canvas. The world outside our alcove ceased to exist—the ball, the nobles, the political machinations, all of it faded to nothing.
By the ti we finally stopped, I was breathless, my lips tingling and swollen, my body warm in a way that had nothing to do with the room temperature. My carefully styled hair had co partially undone, strands falling loosely around my face.
Arthur leaned back slightly, examining with undisguised satisfaction before smirking. One hand remained at my waist, the other idly playing with a strand of my hair. "Well, one hour is up."
He dragged a lazy finger over my lips, his smirk widening as he surveyed his handiwork. "I think I ended up with more lipstick on than you did."
My face flad as I took in his appearance—at his completely ruined lips, the smudged red a stark contrast against his usual impeccable composure. His collar was askew, and there was a distinct mark just visible at the edge of his jawline.
"You were different," I muttered, smoothing my dress with trembling fingers.
Arthur exhaled through his nose, a soft sound sowhere between amusent and confession. "I can't control myself all the ti around you four," he admitted, voice light but laced with aning that ran deeper than the casual words suggested.
And sohow, that single sentence made my face heat even more. The admission that I—that we—could break through his carefully maintained control felt more intimate than the physical acts themselves.
"So you won't control yourself?" I asked, hearing the hopeful note in my voice and unable to disguise it.
"Not as much," he exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His expression softened, becoming more thoughtful. "I realized just how self-centered I had been. Sort of." A shadow of vulnerability crossed his face, gone almost before I could register it. "Anyway, I will be proper now, so continue to be mine."
His azure gaze dug into as he caressed my cheek, his touch gentle now, reverent almost. The smile on his face made my heart race as I gulped, caught between the desire to maintain this intimacy and the awareness of our responsibilities waiting beyond the door.
Then I smiled, allowing myself this mont of honesty, of openness.
"I want that more than you," I said as I hugged him, breathing in his scent, committing this mont to mory. The solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against my ear—a counterpoint to the chaos of my own emotions.
"I know," he said simply, the words rumbling through his chest. His arms tightened around briefly before we both got up, the practical reality of our situation reasserting itself.
I glanced at the ti on my phone, noting with surprise how much ti had passed. "The event is probably about to end now," I said as he nodded, already straightening his clothing with practiced efficiency.
I turned toward the small mirror on the wall, assessing the damage. My lipstick was beyond salvation, my hair falling in loose waves where it had escaped its pins. I looked... thoroughly kissed.
Arthur appeared behind in the reflection, his eyes eting mine. The intensity in them made my breath catch all over again.
His fingers brushed mine, a brief touch filled with promise before he stepped back.
"After you, Princess."
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