We went back to my apartment.

It was strange to have Henry walk into my place—as if he didn’t quite belong there. I wasn’t sure why but probably because I’d only known him in the context of the community center and the few blocks surrounding it.

But now he was standing there in my living room, wearing jeans and a sweater, needing to shave, looking at me with a warmth and fondness and knowledge that I’d never seen in any other man’s eyes.

A wave of bone-deep fear washed over me, and I tried to cover it by sounding casual. “Do you want something to drink?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.” He took a step closer to me, looking like he was about to reach for me, pull me toward him.

I wanted him to. Desperately. But I was also washed in another wave of chilly nerves. I cleared my throat and turned away, pretending I was fiddling with something in my bag. Seeing my phone, I slid it out and checked the screen to see that I had no new notifications.

“Is something wrong, April?” Henry asked, moving up behind me.

“No. Of course not.”

“Did you change your mind?”

“No.”

“Then—” He touched my shoulder gently.

I sucked in a quick breath and turned to smile at him, suddenly thinking of something I could do. “I think I might take a shower. It’s been a long day, and I feel like I don’t smell very good.”

He frowned, but it was thoughtful, searching, rather than disappointed. “You smell good to me.”

I chuckled. “I don’t smell good to myself, and I’ll feel better if I take a quick shower. Is that okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. We can do anything you want.”

He was so incredibly sweet, and he still looked a bit concerned, like he knew something was bothering me but couldn’t quite figure out what it was. I stretched up to give him a little kiss. “I won’t be long.”

When I shut the bathroom door behind me, I let out a long, relieved breath.

I was being ridiculous. There was nothing to be scared about.

This was Henry, and I was more than attracted to him. He was a really good guy. A kind, funny, and sensitive guy. He cared about me, and I could see it was real.

And he was also the sexiest guy I’d ever known.

I wanted to do this.

I really wanted to do this.

And I wasn’t going to let my fears and hang-ups get in the way.

I hadn’t had sex in three years—not since I’d turned my life around.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever had sex without having at least a couple of drinks first.

I tried to think back and couldn’t remember ever doing so.

I’d never had sex sober before.

And the truth was just this: I was terrified.

I shook off the fear again and got into the shower. I soaped up, did a quick shave, and rinsed myself off, keeping my hair out of the spray so I wouldn’t have to dry it. It was just a few minutes when I was turning off the water and drying myself off. I put on my fuzzy purple bathrobe and came out, still feeling a bit nervous but not quite as much as before.

Henry was sitting on a stool at my kitchen counter, checking his phone.

He looked up when I came out and smiled when he saw me. “I like the robe.”

“I don’t have anything sexy.”

“You don’t need anything sexy.” He stood up. “I’m already crazy about you, April.”

I took a shaky breath and smiled. “Same here.”

He reached out to pull me toward him but surprised me by giving me a hug rather than a kiss. “Are you scared about something?” he murmured against my shoulder, his arms tight around me.

I hugged him back, taking strength in his strength. “Yes. I am.”

He pulled back enough to look at my face. “Why are you scared?”

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” I admitted, feeling young and uncertain and kind of foolish as I said the words. “And I’ve never done this sober.”

I saw what I’d said process on his face. “I see. If it’s too soon—”

“It’s not too soon. I want to do this. With you. I was just explaining why I’m… scared.”

He reached up to cup my face. “Then tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Just… just go slow, if you don’t mind.” My cheeks were blazing, and I hoped he wasn’t going to be too disappointed in me.

“I don’t mind at all.” He leaned down to kiss me very gently. Then he said against my lips, “I’ll take a quick shower too if you don’t mind. You smell really good, and I don’t think I do. And I want to make sure I can go slow.”

I blinked as I registered what he meant, and I gave him a trembling smile. “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.”

“There are clean towels on the shelf in there.”

He went into the bathroom, and I went to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. I swallowed down about half of it, and then I went into my bedroom, not knowing what else to do. I turned down the comforter and sat down on my sheet, fiddling with my phone, hoping Henry wouldn’t be too long so I wouldn’t have too much time to brood about this and maybe even talk myself out of it.

It was only a few minutes when I heard the shower turn off. Then a minute later the door opened and Henry came out wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. He must have looked in the living room first because it was a few seconds before he appeared in the bedroom.

I put down my phone.

His body was absolutely gorgeous—all long limbs, rippling muscles, and hard lines. He had a sprinkling of hair on his chest and more in a thin line that ran down underneath his wrapped towel.

He walked over without a word and sat down on the bed beside me.

We looked at each other in silence.

Then he reached up and brushed a few loose strands of hair back from my face. “Will you let your hair down?” he asked in a hoarse murmur, his expression growing hotter, deeper somehow.

I nodded mutely and reached around to pull the elastic off the bottom of my braid. Then, very slowly, I started to unbraid my long hair.

He sat and watched until I slowly pulled each link from the braid. I’d never seen anything like the look on his face as he gazed at my hair come loose—like awe was dawning slowly in his eyes.

I was breathless when I finally ran my fingers down the length of my messy, wavy hair. I was nervous and excited and self-conscious and so full of emotion I could barely contain it. My hands were trembling as I lowered my eyes and then raised them again, looking at him again through my lashes since I couldn’t seem to turn away.

He was breathing fast too. Very slowly he raised a hand to stroke down the length of my hair. “Thank you, schatzi,” he murmured thickly.

It wasn’t at all what I’d expected him to say. I thought he’d give me a compliment—say I was pretty, that he liked my hair down this way.

But he’d thanked me, proving he’d understood how big a step this was for me.

Not my hair. Everything.

I stretched up to put my hands on his shoulders, leaning toward him, my heart so full I couldn’t possibly stand the distance between us.

I found his lips and brushed mine against them softly. Then something seemed to crack inside Henry and he took control of the kiss, taking my face in his hands, pressing back into me. Despite the urgency I could feel in his touch, in his body, he didn’t rush. He kissed me slowly, thoroughly, until my body had softened and flushed with heat.

Then, very gently, he adjusted our bodies so I was lying on my back on the bed, gazing up at him.

“You’re sure about this, April?” he asked, his voice deliciously husky.

“Yes. I am. I want this.” I tangled my fingers into his thick hair. “I want you, Henry.”

He made a wordless sound in his throat and kissed me again.

The kiss went on for a long time, his tongue sliding against mine, his hands stroking my face and my hair. Eventually I was so turned on—from nothing other than the kiss—that I was shifting beneath him restlessly, my body needing more than it was getting.

“Henry,” I gasped, pulling my mouth away at last. “Not quite this slow.”

He chuckled and raised himself up enough to look down on me, and I could see his eyes as his hands moved to the tie of my robe. Carefully he undid the knot and pulled the robe open to bare my body to his gaze.

The hot appreciation in his eyes—mingled with something desperately hungry—caused my breath to hitch in my throat.

Swallowing hard, I pulled my arms out of the sleeves and reached up to pull him back down onto me. He kissed me again, a little less carefully this time as if his self-control were being tested.

I loved the feel of the tension in his body. I ran my hands up and down the length of his bare back. The muscles were tight, and his chest moved with each breath. He was almost panting now—just like I was.

He finally pulled away from my mouth and started to kiss his way down my neck. “You are so beautiful, schatzi,” he murmured against my skin. “So beautiful. There’s never been anyone like you.”

I whimpered in pleasure at his words and at the feel of his mouth against my throat. I couldn’t lie still. My hands moved restlessly over his body until my fingers closed over the towel he still had wrapped around his waist. My hips were rocking helplessly as arousal kept tightening inside me.

Then his mouth trailed even lower until he’d reached my breasts. He nuzzled between them for a moment before he moved to focus on the right one. He flicked the nipple with his tongue a couple of times, the jolts of pleasure making me gasp and arch my neck. Then he cupped the left breast with his hand so both of them were getting attention.

It felt so good—so deep and raw—that I couldn’t keep quiet. I’d never been much of a moaner, but I heard myself making little huffs and breathless exclamations as he suckled and teased.

My legs were moving now with my hips, one of them wrapping around his back, since his body was low on mine, and the other bending up so I could find some friction for my aching arousal.

After a few minutes, his mouth moved even lower, pressing kisses into my shuddering belly. His hands slid beneath me, cupping and squeezing my bottom.

“Henry,” I gasped, my whole body arching up when he moved back up quickly to give my breast a little nip. I fisted both my hands in his hair.

He raised his head so he could meet my eyes. “Just tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

“I was going to—” He glanced down to my groin, and I knew what he meant.

I shook my head and tried to pull him back up. “Not now. Right now I just want you.”

“You have me,” he said, very low and very thick.

He kissed me again, and I was so turned on that I couldn’t help but grind myself against him. No doubt I seemed shamelessly eager, but there was no way I could hold myself back. I tugged at his towel again and this time managed to pull it loose. I yanked it free and dropped it on the floor, and my hands moved uncontrollably to feel the firm, tight flesh of his ass.

I could feel something else against me now as we kissed. He was hard. He was just as aroused as I was.

“Oh,” I gasped, the feel of his erection pressed between our bodies making me think of something for the first time. “A condom! I don’t have one. I’m not on birth—”

“I have one,” he said.

I sighed in relief as he rolled off me and reached down to the floor where he’d dropped his clothes earlier. When he straightened up, he was unwrapping a condom.

I watched breathlessly as he rolled it on, and then I reached out for him as he moved over me again, settling between my legs. I bent my knees and was stretching up for a kiss as he nudged at my entrance with his erection.

I was wet and more than ready for him, but he felt big and I was tight as he slowly eased in and out until he was all the way inside me.

I bent my knees up even higher as I rolled my hips, trying to grow accustomed to his size after going three years without sex.

He was clearly struggling for control. His features were twisting, and he occasionally gave a little jerk, like he couldn’t quite hold his hips still.

When I was finally able to relax fully, so could he. He smiled down at me, his face now slightly damp with perspiration. “How is it, schatzi?”

“It’s good,” I panted, digging my fingers into the back of his neck. “So good.”

He groaned as I rocked my hips, and then he leaned down into another kiss. He kept kissing me as he started to thrust.

He moved slowly, steadily, the friction deep and rich and pleasurable. I moved with him, my tongue tangling with his and mimicking the rhythm of his motion.

After a while, I felt the pleasure start to build momentum. I turned my head and made a couple of soft little sobbing noises as I sped up my rocking, trying to ride him from below.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his speed accelerating to match mine. “You’re so good, so good, so good.”

I don’t know why, but his words made me clench in deeper pleasure. I cried out as sensation started to crest.

He adjusted his weight so he was braced on one hand and the other he moved to my bottom, holding me there as I moved frantically, with absolutely no inhibitions.

“Just let go,” he murmured, taking me hard and fast now. “I’ve got you. You can let go.”

I did let go, coming at his words and crying out in loud, broken, wordless sounds that I normally would have found embarrassing. I wasn’t self-conscious though. Nothing had ever felt so good, so full, so overwhelming, so completely intimate.

As soon as my body clamped down around him, Henry let go too. He pushed into me a few more times in hard, clumsy jerks, and with each push he let out a loud sound of completion. They might have formed words, but I couldn’t tell what they were.

It didn’t matter. I knew how he felt.

Exactly like me.

We gasped and panted and clung to each other, still shaking and pushing into each other a few last times as the spasms worked their way through us.

As he came down, his body softened in a palpable, delicious way.

So did mine.

I felt so good, so relaxed, so full of everything.

So full of him.

He kissed me again, still panting against my mouth, and then he groaned as he pulled out and off me. He groaned again as he got up to take care of the condom.

I didn’t feel like moving, but I kind of needed to go to the bathroom and I wanted to clean up a little. He hadn’t come inside me, but I’d been very wet. Plus I felt raw and a little sore.

So I managed to roll out of bed and limp to the bathroom. When he opened the door, I was standing there.

His surprise transformed into fond warmth, and he pulled me into a hug. “Are you okay, schatzi?”

“I’m good,” I murmured into his shoulder. “Really good.”

“Good. Me too. I don’t think I’ve ever been better in my life.”

The same thing was true of me.

***

We went to sleep together, and I was surprised by how deeply I slept, pressed up against Henry’s side, one of his arms around me.

The next morning was Saturday. My classes were done for the semester, and I was free until after New Year’s. I could sleep in on Saturday morning if I wanted, and I definitely wanted to today.

Henry was still in bed beside me, looking sexy and tousled and sleepy as he blinked at me. I wasn’t sure which one of us had woken up first.

“Good morning,” he said in a raspy voice. He was smiling, despite his grogginess.

“Morning,” I said, suddenly so happy I felt like giggling.

“Do you happen to have any coffee?”

I laughed at how he’d worded the question, and I rolled out of bed. I’d put pajamas on before we’d gone to sleep—since I’m not a fan of sleeping naked. “I’ll get us some.”

“I can—”

“I’m already up.”

I went to go to the bathroom and then make us coffee, still feeling so excited I might have hugged myself as I waited for the coffee to brew. Then I returned to the bedroom, handing Henry a cup before climbing into bed.

He’d propped himself up against the pillows, and he pulled me toward him, wrapping an arm around me as I settled at his side.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Good.” I was even embarrassed at the admission. “I feel really good.”

“Good. Me too.” There was something in his expression I couldn’t identify. He looked pleased and relaxed and fond, but there was also something else. Something almost reluctant.

I couldn’t figure it out, and it was so faint I thought I might have misread it. We drank our coffee in mostly silence, and when he was done, he put his mug on the bedside table and leaned into a kiss.

I barely got my coffee cup set down before the kiss grew deeper. Then I wrapped both my arms around him.

“I don’t have another condom with me,” Henry murmured, “but we can do something else if you want.”

I knew what he meant, but the truth was I was warm and happy and comfortable and didn’t feel like getting all urgent and sweaty at the moment. “I think I’m good for now,” I said, smiling against his lips.

“All right.” He cleared his throat and surprised me by pulling away. “Then maybe we can talk.”

“Okay.” I peered at his face and saw that expression again, and this time it made my heart jump in concern.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he admitted, his face twisting briefly.

“Oh.” I swallowed. “What? You’re not married or—”

“Of course I’m not married!” he exclaimed roughly. “What do you think of me?”

“I didn’t think so. Sorry.” I sighed in relief, feeling silly for being worried. Whatever he was going to tell me, it couldn’t be bad.

Henry was a good man.

There were almost no men as good as Henry.

Nothing he told me could ever change that.

“It’s nothing like that,” he said, confirming my self-assurances. “It’s just—”

My phone buzzed with a text just then. Surprised, I reached over to glance at the screen.

It was my father. See you in fifteen minutes.

I made a squeak of surprise. “Shit! I forgot I was supposed to meet Dad for breakfast.” I sat up straight and dropped my legs over the side of the bed.

“Oh. Is it important? Could you just—”

“If I cancel, he’ll want to know why. And I’m not about to tell him it’s because I have a naked man in my bed. But if I don’t tell him, he’ll start to worry and think I’m up to something I can’t tell him about.” I groaned, making a decision. “I’m sorry, Henry. Do you mind if I go? It will just be easier that way.”

“Surely,” he said, blinking a couple of times. “Whatever you think best.”

“I’m really sorry.” I crawled over the bed so I could give him a quick kiss. “You can stay here, and we can talk when I get back. I’ll make it quick, so I’ll only be gone an hour or so. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” he said, his face softening into a smile as he realized I wasn’t trying to kick him out. “It’s fine. Go see your dad. No need for him to worry.”

I went to wash my face and throw on a pair of warm leggings and a long soft sweater. I was pulling on my boots when I glanced over and saw that Henry was gazing at me in that way I’d seen yesterday—deep, fond, almost awed.

It was exactly how I felt about him too—like I couldn’t believe the universe had blessed me with someone as amazing as he was.

I ran over to give him another quick kiss before I hurried out the door.

***

I was a few minutes late for breakfast, but my father didn’t seem to notice. We chatted about the end of the semester and about the literacy program and about our plans for Christmas. Everything was normal and friendly and comfortable, and I was pleased I hadn’t stood him up.

I was also pleased that soon I could go back home and crawl back into bed with Henry.

Maybe I’d stop by a drugstore and pick up some condoms on my way back home.

“So what’s going on?” My dad’s question came out of the blue, after a brief pause in conversation.

“What do you mean?” I asked, startled by the abrupt shift in conversation.

“Something is going on with you. I’d like to know what it is.”

“Oh. Nothing really.”

“Something with that guy?”

I felt my cheeks warming. Maybe there were some girls who could talk about their sex lives with their fathers, but I couldn’t even imagine doing so. My dad knew I’d done a lot of stupid things in the past but not because I’d told him. He’d heard about them from other people or from reading about them in the tabloids, and nothing had felt worse than my father finding out about the guys I’d screwed—and sometimes exactly how I’d screwed them.

This was different. Entirely different. But I still didn’t want to tell him.

“I guess that’s a yes,” he said, smiling at me like he was amused and pleased. “I don’t need details. But things are going well?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “They are. Really well. I’m… happy about it.”

“Good.” He laughed. “I’d like to meet him sometime, whenever you get to that place.”

“Yeah. Not quite yet, but… but hopefully soon. I think you’ll like him.”

“If he makes you happy, then I’m sure I will. I guess I should have left it to you all along. You obviously didn’t need my help. It might have been nice to say I had a prince for a son-in-law, but I’d much rather you be happy.”

I stared at him, my lips parted slightly. “What? What are you talking about? A prince?”

“Oh yeah! I guess I never told you. That last guy I was trying to fix you up with. He was the son of the king of Villemont. That’s a tiny little country in the Alps, near Switzerland. I’ve met the king a few times when I made business trips over to Europe. He’s a really good guy. The family doesn’t actually have a lot of money, so the queen is always trying to marry her kids off to rich families. So when I saw them a couple of months ago, she got it in her mind that maybe you’d be a good match for Prince Henry.”

My eyes started to glaze over as I tried to process all this information. Then I got hung up on the last word. “Prince… Henry.”

“Yeah, that’s his name. He’s supposed to be a really nice, handsome fellow, and he’s a prince, so I thought… hey, why not introduce you. I guess he was interested in meeting you, and his sister lives in town here, going to the university, so he was in the area on a visit. But you found yourself a guy on your own, so you didn’t need my fixing you up.”

Henry.

Prince.

Alps.

Near Switzerland.

His sister.

In town.

University.

Marrying her kids off to rich families.

I could no longer see my father’s face in front of me.

“Princess,” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

I managed to reach into my purse for my phone and, with trembling fingers, pulled up a search engine and typed Prince Henry Villemont.

The search pulled up dozens of photos. I enlarged one of them and stared down at him.

His hair was shorter. He was clean-shaven. And he was wearing a tuxedo.

But it was still the same man.

My Henry.

Prince Henry of Villemont.

Whose family was maneuvering to get him married off to a rich girl.

I almost gagged at the knowledge of how I’d been deceived, how completely fooled and taken in I’d been by him.

I’d thought he’d cared about me for me.

I’d thought he’d wanted me for me.

But he’d been deceiving me—and running some kind of con—all along.

There was no other explanation. It couldn’t possibly be an accident or coincidence.

Henry had known who I was all along, while I’d been completely oblivious.

“Sweetheart,” my dad said, urgency in his voice now. “What on earth is the matter?”

I took a shaky breath. “I… I’ve got to do something.”

“What is it? Tell me what’s wrong!”

“I will,” I managed to say. My horror was being replaced by something else—something numb and frozen. “But I’ve got to do something first. I’ll call you right afterward. I promise.”

“Okay. Well, go do it right now. And then call me immediately.”

I nodded, feeling like something else had taken possession of my body and was guiding my movements, something other than me.

I hooked my purse on my arm and walked out of the restaurant. I got into my car and drove home. I rode up in the elevator to my floor. I walked down the hall and let myself into my apartment.

“Hey,” Henry called, when he heard me come in. “That was quick. How did it go?” He sounded relaxed, comfortable, at home.

In my apartment. In my bed.

The frozen something that possessed me tightened even more. I felt like some kind of robot as I walked into my bedroom.

Henry was still propped up on my pillows. He was still wearing only his underwear. He’d gotten another cup of coffee. And he was reading something on his phone. He smiled at me as I entered. “How was breakfast?”

He was smiling at me, and his eyes ran up and down my body with visible appreciation.

Like he was entitled to look at me.

Like I was somehow his.

Without speaking, I walked around the bed to his side and started gathering up his clothes and shoes from the floor.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding confused.

I didn’t answer. I took his phone out of his hands and added it to the bundle of clothes in my arms. Then I carried all of them out of the bedroom.

“April?” he asked, sounding baffled and more urgent now. “What are you doing? What’s the matter?” He’d gotten out of bed and was following me.

I opened the front door and threw all his stuff on the floor of the hallway.

“April? What the hell—”

“Get out!” I rasped, holding the front door open.

“What?” His face was twisting in what looked like astonishment and bewilderment. No guilt at all.

No guilt at all. I could see no guilt on his face.

After what he’d done, he didn’t even feel guilty.

“Get out of my apartment,” I bit out. “Right now.”

He reached out to grab my shoulders and turn me to face him. “Tell me what happened, schatzi. If we moved too fast, then I can understand. We can slow down. But you need to tell me—”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” I could barely see, barely breathe. I was still completely numb with shock and something worse—something heartbreaking. “You can go back to your royal family now and find another rich girl to hook up with. You can tell all your lies to her. It’s never going to me again.”

There it came—the knowledge washing over his face.

And there was the guilt.

But it was followed by something frantic and almost terrified. “No, April. That’s not what happened. Please let me—”

I pushed him out into the hallway so forcefully he stumbled back a step. “I never want to see you again.”

He could have forced his way back in. He was stronger than me, and he could have done it. Some men would have done it.

He didn’t though.

He stood there dazed, motionless.

I slammed the door on his face.

He started to pound on the door almost immediately. “April, don’t. It didn’t happen like you think it did. Just let me explain. I’m crazy about you. You know I am. What you think happened didn’t happen.”

He was standing there in the hallway in his underwear—still trying to lie to me.

“If you don’t leave right now,” I said through the door, “I’ll call the police.”

Silence from the other side of the door. Then, “I’ll leave for now, but I’m not giving up on this. You have to let me explain.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I’m calling the police right now.”

I wasn’t calling the police, but I would if I had to.

He made a sound like a groan. “I’m leaving for now. I’m so sorry about everything. Please don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

He was still acting concerned, acting like he was worried about me, that I might be so upset I could fall back into my old habits.

He had no right to worry about me.

He had no right to do anything but walk out of my life for good.