Page 43 of Royal Love
“Even when I wake you at ungodly hours because of nightmares?”
Her smile is soft, intimate. “Especially then. Because that’s when you let me see you—really see you.”
I kiss her then, slow and deep, trying to pour into it everything I can’t find words for. My gratitude, my devotion, my endless wonder that she chose me.
We stay like that, trading kisses and quiet confessions, until exhaustion begins to claim us both. The day has been long, andwe still have the rest of the week to get through before our escape to the beach house.
“Bed?” I suggest, and she nods, stifling a yawn.
Our nighttime routine is comfortable, familiar. We move around each other in the bathroom, brushing teeth, washing faces. Lia braids her hair while I change into sleep pants. There’s something profoundly intimate about these mundane moments that still catches me off guard—the easy domesticity of it all.
When we finally slide between the sheets, Lia immediately curls into my side, her head on my chest, her arm draped across my waist. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
“Think you’ll sleep tonight?” she murmurs, already drifting.
“With you here? Always better odds.” I press a kiss to her forehead.
She makes a soft sound of contentment, and within minutes, her breathing evens out. I lie awake a little longer, listening to the rhythm of her breaths, feeling the warmth of her body against mine. In these quiet moments, the weight I carry as king seems to lift, if only temporarily. Here, I am simply a man holding the woman he loves.
I must drift off eventually because the next thing I know, I’m jerking awake, heart pounding. Not a nightmare this time, but a dream so vivid it leaves me disoriented. Lia. It was about Lia, about losing her, about reaching for her across an impossible distance.
I turn my head to find her still sleeping beside me, her face peaceful in the moonlight filtering through the curtains. The relief is immediate and overwhelming. She’s here. She’s safe. She’s mine.
The need to touch her, to feel her alive and warm against me, is suddenly urgent. I roll onto my side, running my hand lightly over the curve of her hip. She stirs but doesn’t wake, and I lean in to press my lips to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Lia,” I whisper, my voice rough with sleep and need. “Lia, wake up.”
She makes a soft sound of protest, eyes still closed. “Hmm?”
I trail kisses down her neck, my hand slipping beneath her sleep shirt to find the warm skin beneath. “Need you,” I murmur against her skin.
She turns toward me then, eyes blinking open, confused but not alarmed. “Tris? What time is it?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I capture her mouth with mine, pouring all my desperation, all my love into the kiss. When I pull back, her eyes are fully open now, alert and darkening with desire. “I just need to feel close to you. Need to know you’re real.”
Understanding softens her features. She reaches up to touch my face, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “I’m here,” she says simply. “I’m right here.”
Her hands slide into my hair, drawing me down for another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. My body responds instantly, every nerve ending alive with want. I move over her, my weight supported on my forearms, and she parts her legs to cradle me between them.
“Love you,” I breathe against her lips. “Love you so much it terrifies me sometimes.”
She answers not with words but with her body, arching up against me, her hands pulling me closer. There’s an urgency between us now, a desperate need to connect, to reaffirm what we have.
We move together in the darkness, clothing discarded, hands mapping familiar territory as if discovering it anew. Every touch, every kiss is both a question and an answer. Are you with me? I am here. Do you feel this? With every fiber of my being.
When we finally join, the sense of completeness is overwhelming. I pause, forehead pressed to hers, just breathingher in. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, her eyes locked with mine, and in that moment, everything else falls away. There is no kingdom, no crown, no past trauma or future uncertainty. There is only this—only us.
“You are my home,” I tell her as we begin to move together. “My true north.”
Her answer is my name on her lips, a prayer and a promise all at once.
Later, as we lie tangled together, her head on my chest and my arms wrapped securely around her, I feel the lingering tension finally release its hold. The compass rests on the nightstand beside us, but I find I don’t need it now. Not when I’m holding my heart in my arms.
“Better?” Lia asks softly, pressing a kiss to my chest, right over my heart.
I tighten my arms around her. “Perfect,” I reply, and for this moment at least, it’s nothing but the truth.
CHAPTER 25
