I gape at her. I still can’t believe she doesn’t understand.

“I will never love her,” I say. “I will never love anyone but you. Never. If you are gone from my life, it will be as if a piece of my soul is missing. I may continue to exist, but I’ll never be fully alive again. You are it for me, Victoria. There will never be another.” I close the distance between us again and raise my hand to her face. “I didn’t give you this ring because I wanted to claim you as mine for the rest of your life. I gave it to you because I never want you to forget what you mean to me—what you will continue to mean to me for as long as there is breath in my body. I certainly will never forget it.” I blink, and I realize my eyes are wet—am I actually crying?

Her lips fall open, and she looks as if she wants to speak, but she can’t seem to make any words come out.

“It’s a cruel universe,” I say, “that makes two people so perfect for each other and yet does everything in its power to tear them apart.” I take her hand again and place the ring in her palm. “You don’t have to wear it, but please keep it. I’m not ready to give up hope yet, Victoria. I am determined to find a way for us to be together. This ring is a symbol of that hope.” I close her fingers around it.

For a long time, she says nothing. I can see the emotion shimmering in her eyes—emotion I know mirrors my own. After a moment, she looks down at her hand, opening her fingers to reveal the ring.

I hold my breath. Part of me fears that she’s going to refuse it once again, but instead, she slowly lifts it from her palm and then slides it down her ring finger.

“I can’t wear this in public, you know,” she says. “People would notice.” She spreads her fingers, looking down at the ring. It’s a perfect fit, and it seems to glimmer on her finger. Almost as if she was born to wear it. “I could wear it on a necklace, though.” She blinks a few times and looks up at me again. “I don’t want to give up hope either, Andrew. But I can’t… I have to be practical. I need to protect…” Her eyes close and she swallows. “If I allow myself to believe it’s possible, to hold on to that hope only to have it torn away again… It will break me.”

“I don’t think I could survive without that hope,” I say, so softly that I can hardly hear the words myself.

Her eyes flutter open again. “I want to hope, I just…” She reaches up and touches my cheek, and a tremor moves through me. “I’ve changed my mind. I want one more night.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Once she gives me permission, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she says breathlessly. “Yes.” She tightens her fingers and pulls my face down to hers.

My body seems to be aware that this might be the last time we experience each other like this, because the sensations that rush through me at the first touch of our lips nearly paralyze me. Heat pulses through me, sending hot flames of desire through every part of me, but beneath that is something dark and deep and desperate—an ache from the very core of my being.

I grab her to me, yanking her against my chest as I deepen the kiss. Together, we stumble into the bedroom, toward the bed. We tumble down onto the sheets.

This is more than just a physical need, or even an emotional one—my soul cries out for hers. She is everything to me. The air I breathe. The blood moving through my body. I could survive on her and her alone.

I could take her hard and fast—the urgency burns through me. But if this is possibly our last time together, I want to savor every moment. I want to commit every bit of her to memory.

I prop myself up above her. “I love you.” My head dips and my lips brush against hers. “I love your mouth. And your chin”—I kiss her chin—“and your cheeks.” My lips touch either side of her face.

Her breath comes out in a soft shudder, and her fingers dig into my back.

“I love your ears,” I continue. “And your eyes.” I kiss each piece of her one by one, lingering on her eyelids. “And I love your hair.” I bury my face in the strands, breathing in that autumn-and-honey scent of her, committing it to my memory.

We’re still clothed, and we both seem to realize it at the same time. Slowly, I sit up, and then Victoria does too. We don’t say a word to each other, but we both move in sync, knowing exactly what to do. I’m still in the formal suit I wore to receive King Maximilian, which is a little more complicated than my normal clothing, but we manage to get it off together and throw it all aside. Her clothes go next, joining the pile on the floor. When there is nothing between us anymore, I slowly lower her back down onto the pillows. Her hair falls around her head like a dark halo.

My body urges me to join with her immediately, to quench the agonizing desire pulsing through me, but I don’t. Instead, I shift myself down her body, continuing my admiration of her.

“I love your throat,” I tell her as I kiss her neck. “And your shoulders.”

I let my lips trail down one arm and then the other, touching her everywhere, memorizing every freckle and every little scar. I should have taken the time to do this before—to explore her thoroughly during our lovemaking—but back then, I thought we had the luxury of time on our side. I was a fool.

Next, I kiss my way down her front.

“I love your breasts,” I saw, my voice ragged. “And your nipples.” I brush my tongue across one of those sensitive nubs, but while I relish the little moan she makes, I don’t allow myself to linger.

“I love your stomach,” I say, sliding lower. “And your bellybutton.”

My mouth dances across her belly, moving from one side to the other, and I take in every mark on her skin. Every curve of her flesh. Everything.

Her hips are next, and then her legs. As with her arms, I take the legs one by one, kissing down their length and then back up again. I linger on her toes, letting my lips taste them one by one, and I find a tiny birthmark on her thigh that I didn’t notice before. Finally, I find myself back up where her thighs part, and I push them gently open.

“And I especially love you here,” I murmur. “I love the way you smell. And the way you taste.”

I slide my tongue down the length of her, and she groans, arching her back.

“If I could, I would taste you every day,” I tell her. “I’d worship your body day in and day out for as I long as I lived.”

I lick her again, and this time she whimpers.

I don’t try to speak anymore. Instead, I continue to tease her with my tongue, sliding it over her wet, silken skin. I want to memorize her here, too. Remember every fold, commit the pure, musky scent of her to my mind.

Her hands find my hair, her fingers gripping my scalp as my mouth serves her. Her pleasure is building quickly, coming rapidly to a head, but before I can push her over the edge, she suddenly tugs at my hair, pulling my face away from her.

“Not…yet…” she says breathlessly. “Please, not yet.”

“You’re so close—”

“I want you up here,” she says. “Please, Andrew. I want to look at you when I…”

I don’t have it in me to deny her that.

Slowly, I move back up her body, leaning over her again. She looks up at me with wide, dark eyes, and her entire upper body is flushed.

“Please,” she begs again. “I need you inside of me…”

And I don’t have the strength to hold back any longer. I lean forward and kiss her once, gently, before positioning myself between her legs. Then I pull back, looking down into her eyes as I slide inside of her.

Our bodies join easily, as if we were made to fit together. Her eyes flutter slightly as I bury my cock in her softness, but her gaze remains locked on mine.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you,” I return. “I will always love you.”

I begin to move without breaking her gaze. Her lips fall open, and her eyes remain open, too, even when they start to glisten again with fresh tears.

Her hands dig into me. Her body arches up to meet mine thrust for thrust, and I can feel her starting to tense—she was already close to her climax, and her arousal is bringing me quickly toward my own.

The tears have started to spill down her cheeks now, and with a shock, I realize my own lashes are damp again.

I refuse to give up hope. I refuse to let this be our last night together. I’ll love you forever, Victoria.

Victoria lets out a small cry, and her body goes rigid beneath mine. But her eyes stay on mine, and I watch everything play out in their depths—her pleasure, her love, her sadness. Her core pulses around me, gripping my cock and bringing me to my own climax. I hear myself groan as I empty myself into her, filling her with all of my love. All of my hope.

As I lower myself next to her, I pull her into my arms.

“We’ll find a way to be together,” I murmur into her hair. “We have to.”

She doesn’t say anything, only snuggles closer to me. I can feel her tears on my skin.

“We have to,” I say again, and this time my voice sounds raw.

I find her hand, my fingers skimming across hers until I find the ring. The symbol of my undying love. I close my hand around hers.

I will never give up hope. Never.