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Needing her to come first, he touched her in that intimate place too, his fingers brushing over hers.
Blythe cried out her pleasure, her face set in a rictus of ecstasy.
Tor joined her only a moment later, his entire body bowing up off the bed and lifting her too.
They collapsed together, Blythe allowing herself to simply lie on top of him, his sex slipping out of her body naturally and with a final throb of pleasure.
"It is always so good with you," she said, like that was somehow inexplicable.
He did not tell her that was because they had been made for each other. The time was not right for that revelation, or the fight it would surely entail getting her to admit that truth as well.
He said nothing at all, just tugged the bedding over her, knowing from past experience that she chilled easily as the sweat dried on her body after lovemaking.
"I don't want you to go back," she whispered like offering up a shameful secret. "What if it is you next time?"
Her reference to his fallen comrade did not sting like it would have from someone else. He knew she didn't want anyone to lose their life to war, but especially him. And while she was still insisting on hiding their relationship from his family, he would take what proof of her care for him that he could get.
"Shh." He rubbed her back, turning his head to kiss to top of her blond head. "For the next three days, the future does not exist. We will pretend I am just a prince and you are just my lover."
She hugged him, nuzzling into the join of his neck and shoulder. "Not lovers."
"I said pretend." He ignored the twinge her continued denial gave his heart.
"Okay," she said. "For these three days, you are just a prince and I'm your lover." She giggled. "Just a prince. Right. Why not just a man?"
"I can stop being a soldier, I can never stop being a prince."
"Well, I like you as you are and if that means you're always a prince, then I guess that's okay."
She said that, but he suspected the fact he was a prince was one of Blythe Whitney-Jones, intrepid travel vlogger's, primary reasons for refusing to consider their relationship in any serious light.
One thing she'd never made any bones about, Blythe did not see herself as princess material and not because she felt unequal to the task.
But because she did not want to be a princess.
The view from the visiting platform at the Eiffel tower took Blythe's breath away. She'd been to Paris before. Of course she had, she made her living sharing her travels with an appreciative audience.
But this was the first time she'd been in the amazing city with a companion that was not a coworker.
Surprisingly, Tor had never been and he wanted to do all the touristy things.
Hence their trip to the Eiffel Tower. Yesterday, they'd gone to the Arc d' Triomphe and tomorrow they would spend the morning at the Louvre. Not enough time, he assured her to see all they would want to, but they could come back.
Like that was going to happen.
A small sigh she couldn't quite stifle puffed out of her lips and her shoulder sagged before she even realized it was happening. She straightened her posture immediately, hoping Tor had not noticed.
She peeked over at her prince to check and found Tor watching her, rather than the view.
"You're supposed to be looking at the city," she instructed him, chagrined.
His smile was tinged with something like concern. "I like the view I'm looking at just fine."
Blythe just rolled her eyes. "Stop trying to be charming and look at the gorgeous view."
"First, tell me why the sad little sigh."
Blythe just shook her head and turned her own gaze on the city skyline.
