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By the time I reached Bridget, she had half a dozen people fighting for her attention.
“Your Majesty.” I held out my hand, cutting off a woman who’d been gushing over her dress. The crowd fell silent. “May I have this dance?”
A grin played at the corners of Bridget’s mouth. “Of course. Ladies, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me.”
She took my hand, and we walked away with six pairs of eyes burning into us.
Bridget waited until we were out of earshot before saying, “Thank the Lord. If I had to listen to Lady Featherton compliment my outfit one more time, I would’ve stabbed myself with the spikes from my tiara.”
“We can’t have that, can we? I very much like you alive.” I rested my hand on the small of her back as I guided her across the dance floor. “So, you’re officially queen. How does it feel?”
“Surreal, but also…right.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I understand.”
I did. I felt much the same way. I wasn’t the one who’d been crowned, of course, but we’d waited and planned for so long it was strange to have the ceremony behind us. We’d also had time to get used to the idea of Bridget being queen, and now that she was, it felt right.
We always end up where we’re meant to be.
“I know you do.” Bridget’s eyes glowed with emotion before she made a face. “I can’t want to get out of this dress, though. It’s not as bad as my coronation dress, but I swear it still weighs ten pounds.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll rip it off you later.” I lowered my head and whispered, “I’ve never fucked a queen before.”
A chuckle rose in my throat at the deep blush spreading over Bridget’s face and neck.
“Do I have to stop calling you princess now?” I asked. “Queen doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as nice.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare. By royal decree, you’re never allowed to stop calling me princess.”
“I thought you hated the nickname.”
I spun her around, and she waited until she was in my arms again before saying, “As much as you hate when I call you Mr. Larsen.”
I used to. Not anymore.
“I was joking.” My lips grazed her forehead. “You’ll always be my princess.”
Bridget’s eyes shone brighter. “Mr. Larsen, if you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.”
My smile widened, and I kissed her, not caring if PDA was against protocol. “Then it’s a good thing I have the rest of our lives to make it up to you.”
* * *
