Declan sucks at my clit one last time, and my whole body jolts. My hands are clutched on the headrest behind me, my knees spread wide on the plush limousine seats, and he’s grinning at me from between my legs where he just ate me out.

Twice. Buttplug still firmly in place, though I’ve taken it out a few times for... you know.

“I could just lick your pussy the whole way to the reception,” he murmurs, sucking at my inner thigh. “There’s one way to make it tolerable.”

I bite my lip, hand in his hair. It’s tempting, because the more I get of Declan the more I desperately want, and letting him lick me for an entire thirty-minute drive is pretty enticing.

But instead I lean back, sighing, legs still spread.

“You should go before the driver gets here,” I say. “Come on, we can’t get caught.”

His face clouds, gets serious.

“Did you think about what I said?” he asks.

I swallow hard, butterflies suddenly churning in my stomach. It’s been four days since we were nearly caught in the conservatory, and last night, Declan told me that he wants to tell my father and brother.

He wants permission to court me. Make this thing that we have semi-official. I’d still technically be off-limits, sex-wise, but at least we could hold hands in public.

But it terrifies me. I’m afraid that they’ll do something crazy like lock me in a tower and never let me see Declan again, so I just haven’t gotten the courage to give him the go-ahead.

Or the courage to tell them myself. Not yet.

“Soon,” I promise, stroking his hair. “Give me time, okay?”

He doesn’t answer, just kisses my thigh again, then moves my knees closed before leaning over and giving me a kiss that tastes like me.

“Go before the driver gets here and you get caught,” I say.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

Declan steps out of limo, sitting motionless in the garage, winks at me, and walks away. I take a deep breath and pull out my phone, spending the next few minutes reading about the reception I’m attending.

It’s for all the bigwigs who donated to a children’s hospital in the capital city, and I’m hosting, even though I don’t particularly feel like going.

It’s a good cause, don’t get me wrong. I like visiting the hospital itself and seeing all the kids, even though the sick ones break my heart into a thousand pieces. But a night of watching rich people congratulate themselves on what good people they are?

Not my favorite.

“Apologies, Your Highness,” a voice says, and the driver slides into the driver’s seat, adjusts the rear view mirror. “I didn’t mean to be late.”

“I was early,” I tell him. “It’s fine, I needed to send some emails.”

He nods, starts the car. Soon we’re out of the massive royal garage, heading down the driveway, and pulling onto the streets of the capital city.

It’s just getting dark, but I’m not really paying attention to what happens outside the limo. The palace’s social secretary seems to have accidentally double-booked me for two appearances next Saturday, but they’ve got really similar names, and I’m trying to figure out whether it’s the same thing simply entered twice into the calendar, or whether I need to call her and ask.

One is the Association for Small Kingdom Landholders, and the other is the Minor Kingdom Landholders’ Assocation.

They’ve gotta be the same thing, I think, puzzling at my phone. There can’t be two different organizations with such similar—

The limo suddenly comes screeching to a stop, and I jolt forward, my phone flying from my hand. Thank God I’m the kind of person who wears her seat belt, even in limos.

I wait for the crash, heart thumping, but there isn’t one.

“Sorry, Your Highness, that was a narrow miss,” calls the driver. “Are you all right?”

I lurched so hard against the seatbelt that I might be seriously bruised, but at least I was wearing it.

“I’m fine,” I call back. “Are you all right?”

“Snug as a bug in a—”

To my right, there’s a sudden loud, screaming screech of rubber on asphalt. Glass shatters, and a car engine revs again, tires screaming.

I jump, look out the window to see what’s happening.

But all I see is a pair of headlights.

Then, nothing.