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She couldn’t open her eyes and certainly couldn’t move. ‘I’m not used to feeling so good. It’s exhausting.’

He chuckled. She felt him pull away and kept her eyes closed against an unexpected flash of tears. She didn’t want this to be over yet. She knew it wouldn’t last long, but she didn’t want any distance between them—she needed a few moments’ more recovery. She felt something soft drape over her over-sensitised skin. He picked her up but after only three paces he sank. She blinked, realising he’d carried her to the large armchair in the corner. He didn’t relax his hold, but kept her close. Relieved, she rested her head on his shoulder. The tip of her nose brushed the side of his neck. She breathed in the leather and soap scent that was so him and in seconds darkness consumed her.

* * *

It was evening before she finally stirred. Alex watched her from his chair, his foot resting on the bed, a tray of snacks at his side. Hungry Tilly was a creature known to lash out and he was mildly wary of her reaction when she remembered all that had happened. He had zero regrets but really didn’t want her to have any either. But that moment when he’d first had her replayed in his head. He wished she’d told him. He would have made it better had he known—would have taken his time. He wanted a retry now.

‘Did you carry me all the way back to your nest?’ She blinked, her dazed, sleepy expression endearingly sweet when she realised where she was.

‘Nest?’ He chuckled when she flushed. ‘You refused to wake up.’ He rose from the chair. ‘You must be starving. I have…’ He paused at the sultry look in her eyes. ‘Seriously, you need fuel.’

‘I’m starving, yes. But not for food.’

Her husky whisper silenced him. Humbled him. She lifted her hands as he approached and he leaned into her touch—the way she’d leaned into his earlier. He didn’t want her to stop talking so he kissed her creamy shoulders, loving brushing her hair from his path.

‘I’ve always wanted to do this.’ She ran her hand down his arm to his hand, her fingers drawing a circle in the centre of his palm.

Her admission loosened the tight knot long aggravating him. He’d hated wanting her, but knowing she’d also wanted him helped release it.

‘Oh?’ His heart thundered as she rose to kneel beside him.

‘I wanted to do this.’ She pushed him back and he fell.

‘Undress me?’

‘Yes.’ She focused on her task. ‘Unwrap you.’

As if he were a gift for her? He clenched his fists at his sides, trying not to do anything that might stop her provocative exploration of him, not quite able to believe she was here. But she totally dropped her guard and revealed the intensity he’d long wished to be there. Tilly rested and replenished wasn’t just adventurous, she was also abandoned. Full curiosity, full appetite unleashed. It was all he could do to lie still and not blow his load before she’d even made it to his cock. But then he had to move—had to regain the upper hand and ensure she got what she needed.

Too fast again. Too out of control. Too good.

He never wanted to move again. Ever. Actually he wasn’t sure it was actually possible. He needed the food but he was barely able to inhale air, let alone eat.

She suddenly chuckled.

He winced with the effort of opening his eyes. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘This is wild, right?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Sometimes, just sometimes, he lost all his words. Only ever around Tilly. He pulled her close, relaxing as he saw her satisfied smile. ‘Sleep now.’

She rested her head on his chest, a soft, warm anchor.

‘I can’t get over how beautiful your bedroom is,’ she murmured.

Pleasure melted his already decimated muscles.

‘Which way do you prefer to lie?’ she asked. ‘Looking at the city lights or the lone boat on the sea?’

He liked seeing the ships out there surviving heavy storms and high swells. ‘There’s often starlight on the water.’

Never was he telling her that he didn’t close the curtains because he hated the dark. It was pathetic for a man destined to one day be King. Never was he telling her why.

‘The city skyline is something, isn’t it?’ she added. ‘The buildings gleam like diamonds.’

He loved Montaurella. Often he watched it from here late into the night, remembering the times he’d visited—when he’d got tired of the palace and been with the people. They were why he’d not walked away from the crown entirely. For them and for Erik. They all deserved better than the path his father was taking them on.

‘Now isn’t the time to be talking architecture,’ he muttered sleepily.