“Is Prince Thomas swimming in a new pool?” I recite. “Attendees of Aliyah Khoury’s spring ready-to-wear collection at Matlavia’s Fall Fashion Week reported seeing the young prince getting cozy with beverage heiress and up-and-coming designer, Nicole Hou. The family’s net worth saw a nice uptick after the Hou corporation’s launch of their new bottled water, Pristine. A marriage between Prince Thomas and the Hou family could fill the royal coffers. And it’s a good thing, too, since the upcoming royal wedding is slated to be the most expensive in—“

The phone is ripped from my hand. “Hey, I was reading that,” I object.

His Royal Highness Prince Thomas Michael Silverford-Watts of Matlavia, Duke of Reeve, Earl of Lithos, throws himself onto the sofa, his head landing perfectly in my lap. “Why are you reading this trash?” he asks, flipping from my news app to the music app.

The sultry strains of Chet Baker fill the small room. Thom hands me The Time Traveler’s Wife, which we’ve been reading together. “Here, read this instead. You left off with her kissing him in the library. Kind of like how you attacked me the first time we met.”

“We were five and I didn’t attack you. I tripped.” This is an argument we have at least once a week.

“You tripped and fell on my mouth. That’s convenient, but I understand. I was a beautiful child and I’m an even more beautiful adult. Who wouldn’t want to kiss me? But you could’ve just come out and said that you liked me instead of concocting a whole scheme to get in my pants.”

“I should have tripped and punched you,” I grumble.

“It’s okay to admit that I’m too attractive to resist.”

I bop Prince Thomas on the top of his very handsome head with the book.

He grimaces. “That’s a hardcover, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” I wave the book threateningly toward him. He’s not wrong. Unlike some royals, Thomas doesn’t need any of the trappings of the throne to come off princely. He’s tall, with a lush, golden head of hair, piercing blue eyes, and a deep voice that makes the lower part of me tingle every time I hear him. The people of Matlavia love their Prince Charming and sing his praises every where he goes. Sadly, he knows all of this which makes his ego enormous. I figure I was born to keep him in check.

A mischievous smile spreads across his face. “Hit me too hard and I won’t be able to kiss you goodnight.”

I lower the book. This is a serious threat. I clear my throat. “Well, we wouldn’t want that.”

My nighttime kisses from Thom are what get me through the tedious day of washing linens, cleaning rooms, and sorting silverware. Thom turns his head and presses his lips lightly against the inside of my wrist. An electric spark swims through my bloodstream and my heart does a tiny flip.

I’ve had hundreds of these in the last year, but each time he touches me, it feels new. And each time I touch him back, each time I stroke the stubble growing on his chin or whisk his silky hair off his forehead, I marvel at how lucky I am. Me, a housemaid, and the illegitimate daughter of a housemaid, gets to hug and kiss the second in line to the throne of Matlavia.

“I missed you today,” he murmurs, reaching back to run a hand along the outside of my thigh over my maid’s uniform that I haven’t yet removed because I know what a guilty pleasure it is for Thom to see me in it. I have seduction plans after we’re done reading.

I smooth his rather tense jawline until I feel his muscles ease and his bones melt into the sofa. “Was your brother still upset?”

Thom inhales heavily. “Yeah, but he won’t tell me what it’s about. He says it’s not the wedding. I checked with Johan and he says everything in the government is going fine. The negotiations with Garcianchi over the trade of our lithium for their fruits are proceeding. The construction of the new Hwasui bridge is on schedule. I don’t know what else could be the problem.”

Johan is King Stephen’s primary advisor. He used to be the head of the Royal Guard when King Gerald, Thom and Stephen’s dad, was on the throne. When King Gerald died, Johan stepped down to help young King Stephen take up the mantle of leadership. The family trusts Johan implicitly, so if he says everything is fine, then everything must be fine.

“It’s pre-wedding jitters. Callista probably made your brother eat another bowl of quinoa and kale. That would put anyone in a bad mood.” My stomach tightens, as it always does at the thought of Callista Sutton. The soon-to-be queen of Matlavia is a kale addict, and our chef, Zoya, has been tasked with putting kale in everything from smoothies for breakfast to the centerpiece of a main dish at an official event introducing her to the staff for the first time. Kale lasagna tastes as bad as it sounds. “Sneak him a candy bar later,” I suggest.

Thom’s lips curve up. “Chocolate is not a real medical cure, you know.”

“Only because doctors are close-minded.”

“Should I put you in charge of the Matlavia health care then?”

“Yes. We’d all be fat and happy. Peace would reign across the land and rulers from all the nations would come to find out how you did it.”

Thom raises his hand as if taking an oath. “When I am king, then I shall make it so. We will have a National Peace and Eating day where it is mandated we only eat things that taste good and have a thousand calories per bite.”

I slap my hand across his palm. “Done.”

We share a grin knowing that it won’t ever be done since he won’t be king. Now that Stephen is getting married, there will be even more distance between Thom and the throne. Thom could not be happier.

I raise the book and open to the place we left off. Thom has always loved it when I read to him—even when we were kids.

“This is a depressing story, you know. It better end right,” he warns. “All of these so-called love stories you pick out end miserably. I hope you aren’t getting any ideas. Our ending is going to be a good one.”

By good endings, he means ones where everyone’s happy. I chalk it up to how miserable his real life is. Being a prince is not all that it’s made out to be.

“I swear I saw it on a list of romance, so it has to end in a happy ever after. Those are the rules,” I inform him.

“She better not break them, then,” Thom growls. He pauses and then says, “After Stephen’s wedding, I’m going public.”

I lower the book again. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

I have serious doubts about whether the Matlavian public is going to accept me as Thom’s partner. I don’t want him to suffer because of me.

“It’s been long enough. Besides, I’m tired of the party scene. I want to stay here and read books and play with our kids.”

Involuntary images pop in my head of us in the private gardens, chasing after our children, loud laughter filling the usually quiet grounds. “Kids? As in plural?” I tease lightly but inside, a thousand butterflies are beating their wings inside my stomach.

“Yeah. At least two. Maybe four. Maybe eight.”

“Eight?!”

He grins happily at me. “Maybe that’s overkill, but I want a lot. I want our home to be big and noisy and full.”

Unlike his quiet tomb-like childhood, he means. He’s grin fades slightly. “I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

We grew up together—him, Stephen, and the bastard child of a chambermaid. Stephen was always the somber and serious adult whereas Thom and I got into so much trouble together. Because Thom was the prince, we never really got punished.

The days before Thom was pushed out into the real world to do his duty as part of the Matlavian family were a fairy tale. Sometimes I worry that we won’t ever achieve that kind of carefree happiness again.

Thom clears his throat. “You worried, babe? I figure that after the wedding, everyone will be happy. It’s the perfect time.”

Is he right? Is this the time? His ability to read the social scene is unmatched.

“Trust me,” he urges.

It’s been ten years since we’ve been together. That’s a long time to hide that you love someone, but it’s been okay because I’ve had Thom in my bed nearly every night.

“I do trust you.”

“Good.” He taps the side of the book.

Putting the thoughts of our future away, I focus on the pleasurable present and begin to read again about Henry and Clare and Henry’s terrible, beautiful disease. The story is sad and I don’t see how they are going to get their perfect ending by the time the book ends, but we’re in too deep now. Neither of us can give up on the couple.

This is my favorite time of the day. The busy house has settled down. All the visitors are gone. The public places are closed and most of the staff has retreated to their quarters.

Thom has no official duties tonight. The press likely expects him to do something scandalous like go down to the Crescent district and hook up with a socialite. Or, actually, since it’s Fashion Week, the gossipmongers will want to see him with poor Nicole.

I pause at the end of the page. “Speaking of Nicole, how is she? I’m assuming that her engagement to Duke Stuffyface is a sham?”

“It is on her end, but I’m not sure the Duke of Stoughton realizes it—or would even care if he did. She’s miserable and hoping a reason to end it will appear. Unfortunately, telling her father the truth hasn’t done the trick. After she informed him she’s only interested in duchesses not dukes, her dad replied that there were no unmarried duchesses because they only get their titles from men.”

“Ouch.” Nicole has been trying to convince her dad of her sexual orientation for what seems like years, but he’s steadfastly ignored it. When she was a teen, he called it a phase. Now that she’s older and showing business savvy, she’s been deputized to be the next CEO of Hou Enterprises, but Hou is a family business, which means she needs to have children. Daddy Hou is very much against surrogates and adoption and in vitro fertilization. The Hou line will carry on through natural means, if he has anything to do with it. Like I said, poor Nicole.

But that’s the problem with being the eldest. Thom’s got it easy as the second in line. It’s his brother, King Stephen, who shoulders most of the responsibility. Thom does his part, though, by making little scandals here and there so that the press focuses on him instead of his brother. Thom also believes that eventually the people of Matlavia will be so glad to see him settle down that our relationship won’t be shocking. I’m not as sure as he is, but, like the couple in our book, we’re in too deep now.

Stephen has been king for over a decade, since he was barely out of university, after the tragic and scandalous death of their father in a fiery car crash. Tragic for obvious reasons, but scandalous because the bodies were burnt beyond recognition and it was assumed the woman in the car with the king was Thom and Stephen’s mother until she arrived at the hospital. Turns out the dead woman had been the latest in a string of expensive mistresses, and the resulting scandal had left their mother practically living in seclusion until her death two years ago. Poor Stephen ended up claiming a throne left nearly bankrupt by his father’s expensive tastes and had been working himself to death trying to get Matlavia on better financial ground ever since.

I pick up the book and start reading again, and for a while there was nothing but Henry and Clare and beautiful words. Thom shifts a bit and nuzzles his face into my belly. Butterflies flutter where he presses against me, and my voice cracks when I feel him kiss me there, his lips like a hot brand even through my uniform.

“Hey,” I admonish in a breathless voice. “I can’t read if you keep doing that.” I’m torn between wanting him to continue and getting him to stop—I know we both treasure our quiet times together.

He shoots me an unrepentant grin. “Sorry.” Obviously not.

I clear my throat and continue my reading, and for several minutes there is peace. This time I feel his fingers stroke my leg, slowly sliding up under the hem where it hits my knee. His fingers stop there for an endless moment before continuing their teasing path up my inner thigh, until—

“Okay, that’s it.” I snap the book shut and put it down on the side table. “You are obviously in no mood to read a great love story.”

“Nope.” Thom sits up and turns until he’s facing me, his mouth just hovering above my own. “You know I get inappropriate thoughts whenever we’re alone and you’re wearing this.” He plucks at my uniform skirt.

To Thom’s deep chagrin, he’s always aroused by my uniform. He says it’s wrong, because a person in power should never take advantage of someone who works for him. But he can’t help it, he claims, because my uniform reminds him of our first time when he pushed me into a linen closet and went down on me while King Stephen was entertaining the royal family of Sweden.

“I didn’t have time to change,” I lie.

“You’re an evil wench,” he claims and takes my mouth.

Is this supposed to be punishment? Because it feels like a reward. His lips capture mine and I sigh with pleasure as they nibble and rub so sweetly before they part mine, his tongue slipping inside to stake his claim.

We indulge ourselves in deep, slow, endless kisses for long moments, licking and sucking and nibbling until the hunger for more touch, more intimacy grows nearly uncontrollable. We’re both breathless and panting when our lips finally separate. The buttons on my white ruffled blouse are nearly undone, exposing my breasts encased in a lacy white bra. His shirt is unbuttoned, too, and pulled free of his trousers. His belt is gone and his zip is undone. I don’t remember doing any of this, but the minute his mouth is on mine, I tend to lose track of this world.

Who could concentrate on buttons and zippers and belts when his hard shaft is waiting to be touched? I wriggle off the couch and onto my knees. His erection strains against cotton briefs. God, it’s been like this between us from the first moment he kissed me years ago when we were just kids and it’s only grown stronger since.

“Take it out,” he urges.

I glance over my shoulder at the door. Thom’s rooms are supposed to be off-limits, but people, like his personal secretary, have been known to pop in. The prospect of having his thick cock in my mouth overrides any caution. I bite down on my lower lip and draw him out of his shorts.

The ruddy nob bobs eagerly. Thom’s cock pulses in my hand, jumping as I lean forward.

“He missed you.” Thom sweeps my hair back for a better look. “It’s been a long time.”

“He was inside me two days ago.” I lightly lick the top. He’s salty.

“Like I said, it’s been a long time.”

I nibble my way down the engorged veins, watching as his cock strains toward my every touch. “He does seem eager.”

“You have no idea.” Thom’s hand appears before my eyes and curls around the hard shaft.

He pumps himself hard, squeezing more of his pearly liquid out of the head. I lick my lips. There’s something so wonderfully dirty about watching Thom jack himself off with his perfect hand wrapped around his perfect dick against the backdrop of the snowy white boxers emblazoned with the Matlavia crest.

“I’m getting a vague clue.” My tongue darts out and catches the liquid, savoring its earthy scent.

He groans. “I’m gonna die here.”

I replace his long fingers with both my hands. “I can’t allow that to happen. They would lock me up in the dungeon.”

“Hmm. You in chains? I like this picture.”

His dick jumps in confirmation.

“Maybe you should be in chains.” I blow a hot stream of air on his cock.

“I like that picture, too.”

“Is there any image you don’t like?” I gather his balls in one hand and roll them gently.

“Not that I can think of at the moment,” he admits. “You on your knees is pretty much my favorite picture ever. Especially in that outfit.” He sucks on his lower lip. “Of course, ass high is a good one, too. Reverse cowgirl can’t be beat.”

I take the hot, pulsing head in my mouth to shut him up. He breaks off in the middle of confessing that all the positions with me are his favorite ones. He stops breathing when I swallow him all the way to the back of my throat.

Desire builds in my belly, hot and slow, unfurling like a cat just exposed to the sun. I love having him in my mouth. I love him stuffing my face full of his scent, his taste, his feel. I love him.

“This is heaven.” He spreads his legs wide. “You are so fucking hot right now. Do you know that? Do you know what you look like? Damn. Just damn.”

He jacks into my mouth, helpless to control himself. The power I have over the prince of this country is heady. He’d give me everything in this moment, but I want nothing more than his love.

As if he can read my mind, he pulls out of me and lifts me up until I’m straddling his thighs. His cock, wet from my mouth and from his own seed, rubs against my panties.

“I love you so much, it’s maddening.” His fingers find the elastic on my panties. He pushes the fabric aside and rubs my sex. “There’s not a minute of the day that I don’t think about you, about how hot you are, how sexy you are, how much I love you.”

His nimble fingers delve inside. This time it’s my turn to throw back my head and moan. He leans forward and licks a hot path down my neck.

I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, needing desperately to feel Thom’s bare skin against mine. I ride his fingers, knowing that it’s his cock that will fill me soon. These stolen moments together were what I lived for, what kept both of us going, but it’s getting harder and harder to find the time with the upcoming nuptials. He’s busy and so am I. We’ll both be relieved when Stephen’s wedding is over. Then maybe we’ll get to finish the book and have crazy awesome sex.

“Your Highness? Are you there?” The door knob rattles but doesn’t open—good thing Thom had locked the door after him.

Thom curses. “I’m busy,” he yells.

“It’s an emergency,” replies his assistant, Louis.

I drop my forehead against Thom’s chest in abject disappointment. His fingers are still inside me.

“Sir,” pleads Louis. “You must come out.”

“Shit,” Thom mutters, a dark scowl marring his expression. “I asked not to be disturbed—this better be important.” He kisses me—swift, regretful, a promise of more to come. “I have to go.”

I climb off him. Thom wickedly licks me off his fingers. "I'll be back soon."

My sex pulses. I’m going to have to bring myself off.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself,” he orders. “If I have to suffer, you do too.”

He’s so aggrieved that a reluctant smile tips the corners of my lips up. “I promise. Now go. I’ll leave now using the other door so I’m not seen.”

I walk to the hidden door used only by the servants, and as it shuts behind me I hear Thom open the door and growl, “What? What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until dinner?”