Noah settled against me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Back pressed to my chest. Ass nestled against my thighs. My hands came up automatically. Instinct. Years of training. Steadying. Grounding. My palms found his waist. Held there.
“This works,” Noah said brightly, reopening his laptop. “Adrian, you were saying something about the royal contract?”
Adrian's mouth twitched. His eyes met mine over Noah's shoulder. Amused. Knowing. “Viktor is being assigned to the royal family.”
The words slid between my ribs and settled there like a blade I couldn't pull out.
I did not move. Did not breathe. My hands stayed on Noah's waist. Holding. “No.”
“Not a request, Viktor.” Adrian crossed to the sideboard, poured three scotches.
“We are ghosts,” I said, keeping my voice level. “Not palace décor. You taught me that.”
Noah shifted slightly. My hands tightened on his waist. Steadying him. Or steadying myself. His body heat seeped through layers of fabric.
“Décor does not put a man down from a hundred yards in the rain.” Adrian set drinks on the desk. “That is why they asked for you specifically.”
My jaw ached from clenching. “So this is what Sentinels are now. Suits and photo calls.”
“This is what Sentinels are now,” Adrian said. “Visible where it helps us. Invisible where it matters.”
“Actually,” Noah interjected, scrolling through something. “The legitimacy angle is smart. I've been monitoring palace security protocols.” His fingers moved across the keyboard. “Their current detail is adequate. But not excellent. Too many gaps.”
He leaned forward to point at the screen. My hands guided him. Kept him balanced. His ass pressed more firmly against my thighs. Against my cock.
My grip on his waist tightened. Just slightly. Just enough to feel the lean muscle under fabric. Just enough to guide him back. Settling him more firmly in my lap.
Noah made a soft sound. Not quite a gasp. Not quite a sigh. His hips rolled. Testing. My hands on his waist guided the movement. Subtle. Controlled. A gentle pressure that suggested more than demanded.
He responded. His body moving with my guidance. A slow grind that made my cock thicken.
“Here,” Noah said, voice steady despite the movement. “East corridor. No camera coverage for forty-seven seconds during shift change.”
My hands stayed on his waist. Fingers spread. Holding. One thumb traced slow circles against his hip bone. Encouraging. He shifted again. This time deliberate. Following the suggestion in my touch.
“Which is why Viktor goes in,” Adrian said. His eyes tracked every movement. “To fix what is broken.”
“I did not sign up to babysit crowns.” My voice came out rougher. My hands guided Noah's hips in another slow roll. He followed the pressure. Grinding down.
“You signed up for me,” Adrian said. “For what we are building.”
Noah pulled up another file. “The crown prince has survived four assassination attempts in eighteen months.” His hips moved again. My hands encouraged the rhythm. Gentle guidance that he followed like we'd practiced this. “Someone wants him dead.”
“Or both,” Adrian said. “Which is why we need our best.”
My hands slid slightly lower on Noah's waist. Guiding him in slow circles. He leaned back against my chest. Trusting. Following every subtle pressure. His ass grinding against my hardening cock with increasing confidence.
“This makes us targets,” I managed.
“Everything I do is a calculated risk.” Adrian's eyes never left us.
Noah made another soft sound. My hands tightened on his waist. Guiding him harder. Showing him the rhythm I wanted. He responded immediately. Hips rolling with more pressure. More intent.
“The crown is leverage,” Noah added. His breathing had changed. Slightly faster. “Once you protect the prince successfully, every high-value target in Europe will want Sentinel contracts.”
My thumb traced his hip bone again. Pressing. Directing. He ground down harder. Following instruction perfectly.
“In the dark,” I gritted out. “Where it belongs.”
