Page 13 of Royal Secret

“Indeed,” I reply, my voice barely above a husky whisper.

I offer a half-smile that carries a promise I never intended to make — one of more laughter, more touches, more moments like this, where duty and desire collide in the most unexpected ways.

CHAPTER 7

COURTNEY

The warmth of Jakob’s lips lingers on mine long after he pulls away, leaving me breathless and a little dizzy. I’ve been kissed before, but nothing like this — nothing that sends a current through my veins and leaves every nerve ending tingling for more.

Jakob is the kind of handsome that seems to have walked straight out of a fairy tale — the kind Bergovia appears to specialize in — with his deep blue eyes, floppy blond hair, and a smile that makes you want to spill all your secrets. His kindness is just as disarming, his gentle but firm touch sending butterflies through my stomach.

I find myself not wanting this day to end, not wanting to sever this connection that feels like it’s been forged in some kind of magic that can only exist in this small European country.

“Would you like to grab dinner?” I ask, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess them.

He rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face. “You know, I think I’ve had enough of crowds for one day.”

My heart sinks a fraction, but I’m quick to mask it with a determined smile. The thought of him walking away now, disappearing into the cobblestone streets and out of my life, sends a wave of panic through me.

“Then how about room service at my hotel?” The suggestion is bold, bolder than anything I would normally consider, but there’s something about Jakob, something about this place that makes me want to throw caution to the wind.

“Room service?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile turning into a playful smirk.

“Yep. Just us, no crowds, and we can pick whatever we want from the menu.” My attempt at nonchalance is probably completely see-through, but I’m not smooth and never have been.

“Sounds perfect,” Jakob agrees, and relief floods through me.

As we walk to my hotel, the idea of having a man — a near-stranger — in my room prickles at the edges of my consciousness. It’s so unlike me. This isn’t something Courtney Fuller does; this isn’t something Courtney who color-codes her bookshelf and has a five-year plan does. But then again, that Courtney hasn’t had much fun in the last year, and maybe it’s time for a change. Maybe it’s time for a vacation fling to become part of the new Courtney narrative — one where I’m not afraid to take chances, especially when it comes to a man who kisses like sin and looks at me like I’m the only one in the room.

Thankfully, I haven’t even taken the time to unpack, which means my hotel room is still pristine. Jakob and I get settled, and I crack open a bottle of red wine. My nerves are finallycalming down, and I realize that I’m not feeling any sort of pressure.

Jakob and I kissing doesn’t mean anything other than we are attracted to each other and are having a nice time together. It doesn’t mean he needs to spend the night. Or even that we need to kiss again.

Although… those things are most definitely on my mind.

They aren’t important, though. I’m here in the moment, enjoying the evening with the hottest man I’ve ever touched. We’re ordering room service — a limited menu from the tiny kitchen but one that still looks good — and opening the balcony doors to let in the warm breeze. Life couldn’t be better.

I perch on the edge of the wrought-iron railing, a glass of rich red wine cradled in my hands as Jakob leans against the doorframe, watching me.

“Can I see some more of your photos?” he asks.

I hesitate. Showing them to him was nerve-racking, but also validating. The only person I ever showed my photography to was my grandmother — well, and the random strangers on my anonymous Instagram.

“Okay,” I say, drawing out the word. “Here.”

Pulling out my phone, I open the secret Instagram page and hand my greatest secret over. My breath lingers in my throat as I watch his face, waiting for a reaction.

“Hey, these are really good.” He comes closer, showing me which one he is looking at.

His breath is warm on my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. He points to a photo of a street musician, his violin caught mid-note. “This one’s my favorite. You’ve captured the passion in his eyes perfectly.”

“Really?” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face at his words. “I thought it was a bit blurry.”

“Life’s a bit blurry,” he replies with a shrug, his lips curving into an easy smile. “It makes it more real, you know?”

“Maybe you’re right.” I let out a little laugh, feeling a newfound appreciation for my own work through his eyes.

The room service arrives then, breaking our moment as we move inside to set up the spread on the coffee table. There’s a comfortable ease between us as we share bites of gourmet grilled cheese and sip Bordeaux, legs tangled together on the plush hotel sofa.

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