In roughly thirty minutes, Tessa and I are going to walk onto a brightly lit stage and give a joint speech about organ donation. It’s the finale of our six-week media tour.

When we arrived at the Circo Performing Arts Center, the executive director ushered us to a luxurious dressing room just a few steps from the stage. We could hear people chatting in the auditorium, which seemed to rattle Tessa, so I asked if we could wait in a dressing room farther away from the action. That’s where we are now.

Although the carpeted room is small, it’s actually quite nice. A sleek gray sofa is positioned against one wall, and an open door in the corner leads to a bathroom.

A dark-colored vanity stretches the entire length of another wall. Several backless benches sit in front of it, upholstered in tufted gray velvet. A massive Hollywood-style mirror hangs above the vanity. The bulbs bordering the mirror are lit, filling the room with bright white light.

I’m standing with my back against the door, my hands deep in the pockets of my tuxedo pants, while Tessa paces back and forth in front of me. She’s stunning in a strapless emerald-green gown with a crystal-encrusted bodice and a flowing chiffon skirt.

Her mouth is slick with gloss the color of poppies, and her hair is twisted into a complicated-looking knot, revealing the diamond-and-emerald drop earrings I gave her. She thinks they’re hers for the night, but they’re hers, period.

Knowing that I chose and paid for everything she’s wearing tonight, from her earrings to her evening gown, sends a possessive thrill through me. It’s not possessive in the sense that I own her, of course, but more that I like being the one who gives her everything she needs. I want to take care of her, even though I know she’s more than capable of taking care of herself.

With every step Tessa takes across the dressing room, her anxiety seems to swell like an overinflated balloon. I’m afraid she’s seconds away from bursting.

Although we’ve done more than seventy-five interviews together, many of them in front of live audiences, she’s nervous about this speech. I can understand why—we’ve never spoken in front of such a huge crowd.

More than five thousand people paid anywhere from three thousand euros to ten thousand euros to hear us talk tonight. The proceeds from this event will be gifted to several charitable organizations involved in organ donation. The total amount should be well over thirty million euros.

The media tour has been far more successful than I could’ve hoped. My approval rating is above ninety percent—far higher than I ever imagined it’d be.

My father is thrilled, of course, but I’m not stupid enough to think the people of Alsania actually like me. If not for Tessa, my approval rating would still be in the unacceptable range.

It’s an understatement to say that I’m happy the tour is almost over. Unfortunately, the end of the tour probably means the end of Tessa’s stay at Helios, and I’m not happy about that.

I’ve thought about asking her to stay, not at Helios, but with me. Wherever I am, I want her with me. But I don’t know if she wants that—if she wants to be with me.

I know she misses her old life—her apartment in Albee, her flower shop, her friends. More than once, she’s mentioned how much she’s looking forward to things returning to normal.

She assumes the paparazzi and the public will lose interest in her once the tour is over, but I think that’s unlikely. She’s no longer a nobody. 

As I predicted, it didn’t take long for the Alsanian people to fall in love with Tessa. It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with her either.

In retrospect, I wonder if I fell in love with her in the hospital when she compared herself to summer squash. Who wouldn’t fall for a woman who can joke on her death bed?

Everyone thinks I’m cold and emotionless, but they’re wrong. I have feelings. Of course I do. It’s just hard for me to acknowledge them, and it’s even harder for me to express them.

The truth is, I’m emotionally constipated. Marco used to be the only person who could loosen me up, but then I met Tessa. She makes it easy for me to feel.

When I’m with her, I don’t need to hide my feelings or hide my true self. When I’m with her, I’m not the Polar Prince. I’m not Prince Leo. I’m not the future king of Alsania.

When I’m with Tessa, I’m just a man in love.

I haven’t found the courage to tell her how I feel. I know she cares about me, but that’s not enough.

And if she does feel the same way—if she loves me too—would she be willing to give up her “normal” life to be with me? Would she be willing to stand beside me and suffer the constant criticism and relentless scrutiny that comes along with being a public figure? 

I’m afraid she might not think I’m worth it.

Across the dressing room, Tessa stops abruptly and rests her ass against the vanity. “I’m so scared, Leo, my knees are shaking.”

I stride over to her and lightly squeeze her shoulder. “You know stress is bad for your immune system ... bad for your liver. I can do the speech alone. It’s not that important, Tessa.”

She tilts her head back until our eyes meet. Her face is the color of milk, not even a hint of pink on her cheeks.

“It is important,” she insists. “Those people paid a lot of money to hear both of us speak. I can’t disappoint them.”

I grasp her hand, unsurprised to find it cold and clammy. “If you’re determined to do this, you must calm down.”

“Then take my mind off the speech. Distract me.”

Arching my eyebrows, I ask, “How, exactly?”

She looks down, her long eyelashes sweeping over her suddenly pink cheeks. It takes me a second to figure out how she wants me to distract her.

Bending down, I brush my mouth over her ear. “You want me to fuck the nerves out of you, tesoro?”

Her nearly imperceptible nod is the green light to do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw her all dressed up. I spin her around so we’re both facing the dresser and catch her gaze in the mirror.

With my palm flat against her stomach, I pull her toward me. She’s wearing stilettos—sexy silver heels that show her toes and fasten around her ankle with a jeweled clasp—so our height differential isn’t as extreme as it usually is.

“You’ve been distracting me for hours.” I press my erection against her, the fabric of her dress posing the flimsiest of barriers. “I’ve been hard since I saw you in this dress, imagining what you were wearing underneath.”

I’m exaggerating, but not by much. From the moment I saw her walking down the stairs at Helios, the skirt of her green dress flowing like ocean waves around her legs, I’ve been semi-erect.

Bringing my mouth to her ear, I whisper, “I’m going to fuck you in front of this mirror. I want you to see how hot you look when you come.”

Her poppy-red lips part in a soundless gasp and a deep flush creeps up her chest to her forehead. She pushes back against me and wiggles her ass over my erection.

Under several layers of clothing, my skin prickles with arousal. I swear I can feel the blood surging through my veins, thick and hot like lava. 

I shrug off my tuxedo jacket and toss it onto the bench next to us. Lifting the silky folds of her dress, I jerk them to her waist and bare her lower body. In the mirror, I can see the pale expanse of her stomach and the tiny triangle of black lace covering her pussy.

“Hold up your dress,” I command, surprised by the roughness of my voice.

She does as I say, fisting the chiffon with both hands and raising it until her scar is visible. I’ve kissed and licked those red lines too many times to count.

I slide my other hand over the smooth curve of her hip and slip it under the waistband of her panties. The tuft of hair above her slit brushes against my fingers, and I tug on it, lightly at first and then hard enough to wring a whimper from her.

I know Tessa. I know her body. I know what she needs right now, and it’s not sweet, gentle lovemaking. She needs a good hard fuck, and I’m going to give it to her. 

Dipping my fingers between her folds, I find the opening to her body. She’s not as wet as she usually is—a little slick, but not soaked—which makes sense given how nervous she is.

As I remove my hand from her panties, I purposely graze her clit with one of my fingernails. She quivers, probably more from surprise than pleasure. Hopefully, it’s both.

I take a moment to scoot the bench away from the vanity before kneeling behind her. After jerking her panties down to her ankles, I say, “Knees on the bench.”

Using the vanity to balance herself, she climbs onto the bench with her knees spread. I slip her panties over her heels and drop the scrap of lace to the carpet.

Flattening my palm against her lower back, I say, “Bend over. Elbows on the vanity.”

She must know what I’m planning because she glances over her shoulder. “We don’t have time.”

“I’m doing what you asked me to do—distracting you.”

“But thousands of people are waiting on us,” she protests.

I spank her ass cheek ... hard enough to make her gasp ... hard enough to leave my handprint. “Stop thinking about the speech and do what I said. Right now.”

She slowly bends over until her ass is high in the air, only an inch or two in front of my face. Using both hands, I spread the pink lips of her pussy and lean in until I catch a whiff of her.

When she’s really turned on, her scent is musky and potent. But right now, it’s barely there, more proof of her nervousness.

Touching the tip of my tongue to her opening, I lap at the slippery fluid trickling out. As her salty tang hits my taste buds, I can’t help groaning. Nothing tastes better than this woman’s pussy, except maybe her mouth.

I love kissing Tessa as much as I love eating her.

I run my tongue over her soft flesh and find her clit. I lick circles around it, purposely ignoring it so her excitement builds.

Each circle brings me closer and closer to the little nub, but I avoid touching it directly. When she starts wiggling her hips, trying to move my tongue against her clit, I know she’s no longer thinking about our speech.

Licking my way down to her opening, I discover that she’s nice and slippery now. With her juice coating my tongue, I hum my satisfaction and bring my attention back to her clit. As I rub my tongue over it, she lets out a sexy moan—one that has my cock pulsing in my underwear.

Using the flat of my tongue, I play with her clit until it’s as smooth and hard as a pearl. By now, my face is drenched with her juice, and she’s chanting my name like I’m a rock star, and she’s a groupie.

I know she’s close, so I wrap my lips around her clit and suck as hard as I can. A second later, she’s screaming Leo at the top of her lungs, and her clit is throbbing with the intensity of her orgasm.

I slowly release her clit from my lips and swipe my forearm over my mouth and chin. When I realize she’s shaking so hard she’s about to topple off the bench, I surge to my feet and steady her with my hands on her hips.

Looking in the mirror, I evaluate her flushed face and hazy eyes. She’s definitely not thinking about the speech right now.

Even though I know thousands of people are waiting on us, and I have no idea what time it is, I have no intention of leaving this room until Tessa’s pussy is so flooded with my cum, her thighs are sticky with it. 

After unfastening my pants, I carefully maneuver my zipper down and pull my cock from my underwear. With my gaze locked on hers, I place my hard-on against her slippery opening.

“You need to hold on to the vanity,” I tell her. “This is going to be fast and hard.” 

Griping her hips with both hands, I drive my cock deep into her tight pussy. The feel of her—soft and slippery and scorching hot—rips a groan from my throat.

“Yes,” she moans. “You feel so good.”

Watching our reflections, I pull out until just the tip of my cock is notched inside her and then drive deep again. Her eyelids flutter shut, and I smack her hip in warning.

Her eyes pop open, and I notice her pupils have expanded until only a tiny ring of green surrounds them. She looks like an addict high on cocaine. 

“Keep your eyes open,” I growl. “Watch me fuck you.”

As I drive my cock into her swollen pussy, over and over and over, her eyes never waver from our reflections. When my balls feel like they’re about to explode, I slip two fingers into her soaked slit and massage her clit with firm, steady pressure.

She starts to rock backwards, shoving her ass against me each time I plunge into her. She’s so wet now, her pussy makes a sucking noise every time I pull out to shove back inside. It’s so fucking hot, a spark zings down my spine and travels to the tip of my cock.

“Don’t stop,” she moans. “I’m close. So close.” 

Just as I start to worry about how long I can hold on, she cries out, “I’m there. I’m coming so hard. Oh, God. Leo.”

As her pussy clamps down on my cock, our gazes tangle in the mirror. The rhythmic clenching of her internal muscles, coupled with the intensity of our stare, tips me over the edge.

I come so hard everything except my cock goes numb. As I erupt inside her, my vision turns dark around the edges and my knees almost buckle.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear I love you. I don’t know if I said it or she said it.

Maybe both of us said it. Maybe neither of us said it.

Maybe it was all in my mind ... all in my heart.