“I haven’t been fully honest about who I am.”
“So you lied. Twice.”
“I just didn’t tell you everything. I omitted things.” She tenses, and I can tell she’s not a fan of that. “Okay, you’re right. I apologize.” I’ll own my shit. I have no problem admitting when I’ve messed up. “I lied.”
I drag a hand through my hair, searching for the right way to say this. There isn’t one, so I just say it. “My family isn’t just wealthy, Mable. We’re... royalty. Old bloodlines, estates, the whole fucking thing.” I force myself to meet her eyes. “When I marry, I’ll take my father’s place as the public head of the family. The press follows us. Everything becomes public.”
She blinks, her mouth falling open slightly. “Royalty? Like... actual royalty?”
I nod. “There are hereditary titles and estates in three countries,” I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “The Montclair name opens every door and invites every camera. I didn’t tell you because the second people know, they change. They see the crown, the spotlight, the access. They don’t see me.”
I step closer. “But you looked at me like I was just a guy on a plane. Like I was worth knowing without having the knowledgeof those titles. It’s the first time in my life I’ve felt as though someone truly saw me. You are so different from anyone I have ever met. I didn’t want you to be intimidated or scare you away,” I ramble. I feel an immediate sense of relief that she knows the truth. “Not interesting, my ass.” I shake my head. “I didn’t want to lose you before I even had you.”
Mable’s quiet for a long moment, taking in what I said. I can see the questions forming behind her bright eyes, the weight of what I’m asking her to accept. Not just me but everything that comes with me.
“So if we’re together,” she says slowly, “people will watch. They’ll write about it. About me.”
“Yes.” No point in sugarcoating it. “They’ll dig into your past, your family, your schooling. They’ll speculate and criticize and make up lies because it sells papers.” I cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing her cheekbones. So damn soft everywhere. I can’t lose this. I won’t allow it. I can’t. “I should have told you before I pulled you into this. But Mable, I’ve never felt this. Whatever this is between us, it’s new to me too. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t date. I don’t do... this, and clearly I’m fucking it all up.”
A small smile forms, making her cheeks rounder. “Okay,” she finally says, but I’m still holding my breath here.
“Okay?” There isn’t more?
“Yeah, okay.”
Her hands come up to cover mine over her cheeks. “Show me,” she whispers. “Show me who you really are. Not the crown. Not the name. You.”
I stare at her for a long moment, thinking there is no way I heard her right. But then again, Mable is all sweetness. I was a jackass to carry this on. I should have known if I had just told her even first thing this morning she would have understood.
A pressure lifts off my chest.
“That’s all I want,” I say, my voice feeling raw now. “To be real with you. To be someone you can trust.” That makes her smile grow,
“I trust you,” she says, and the simplicity of it undoes me. “But no more lies. Not even by omission. If we’re doing this...”
“We’re doing this,” I confirm, and I kiss her before she can change her mind.
It’s not gentle or careful. I kiss her with everything I’ve got. As though I am drowning and she is the air I need to survive. Only she can sustain me.
A hunger roars inside, and I deepen the kiss. I’ve been starving for this my whole life and only just realized it. My hands slide into her hair, fisting it in my hand, tilting her head back, and she lets out a soft sound that goes straight to my cock.
My hands go to the robe, pushing it off her shoulder so it pools at her feet.
She’s completely naked underneath, all soft curves and flushed skin, and I tear my mouth from hers just to look at her.
“Christ,” I breathe, my hands moving to her waist, her hips, memorizing every inch. “You’re perfect.”
She arches into my touch, her fingers finding the hem of my shirt. “And you’re overdressed.”
“Then let me change that.” I lift her off her feet, a small squeal of surprise leaving her. I carry her over to the bed, placing her down on it so I can quickly strip down. I stand there simply taking her in, spread out in our bed. I’m the first man to see her this way, and I’ll be the last.
“Caldwell?” Her cheeks start to flush deeper.
“Just want to commit it to memory,” I say before I come down over her. “You need to tell me to stop,” I manage, my voice not sounding my own. “Tell me now, because once I start?—”
“Don’t stop.” She wraps her arms around me. “I don’t want you to.”
A sound tears from my throat, primal and desperate, and then I’m on her. My mouth finds her throat, her breasts, and the curve of her hip. I don’t want to miss a single spot. I need to taste every fucking inch of the perfection that she is. I’ll never get enough.
