I stare at her. “My friend.”

She nods. “Just your friend.”

That’s not enough—not nearly enough. No matter what she says, she is more than just a comfort to me—and more than a means of producing an heir, too.

“I’m afraid that’s not going to work for me,” I tell her.

Something flickers in her eyes, and she looks down at her lap. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll get off in Salzburg and see if I can get a flight back to L.A.”

“You misunderstand me,” I say. “I meant that I want more, not less.”

“Well, I’m afraid that is not going to work for me,” she replies.

I frown. I’ve just told her I love her—and that her inability to have children doesn’t change that. The thought of watching her walk away again, of letting her slip through my fingers, makes me almost physically ill.

And no matter what she says, I have a feeling that deep down she feels something similar.

“Very well,” I say, standing and crossing the car in a single stride. “Friends it is.”

I sit down on the bench next to her. She looks startled but doesn’t move, so I lean toward her, bringing my mouth down to her ear.

“Remind me again how being friends works?” I murmur. My fingers brush against her wrist then drift slowly up her arm. “A friend can do this, can’t he?”

A shuddering breath escapes her lips. “No. He can’t.”

“Pity.” I pull my hand away from her arm, moving it instead to her knee. “What about this?” I ask as my fingers dance lightly up the length of her leg.

“Definitely not,” she says, pulling her leg away from my touch.

“Sad, indeed,” I say softly. “But what about this?” I dip my head a little lower, letting my lips touch the skin just below her ear.

Her breath catches. “Andrew…”

“What about this?” I kiss her neck again, a little lower this time. “I think a friend would definitely do this.”

I feel a shiver move through her skin. “Maybe…”

“And this.” Another kiss. Another sharp intake of her breath. My lips have reached the place where her neck meets her shoulder, and I let my tongue drift across her skin.

Her hand comes up, grabbing my shoulder. I don’t know if she means to push me away or pull me closer. She doesn’t seem to know, either.

I lift my fingers and delicately trace her collarbone. Then I move them higher—up across her throat, along her jaw, to her hair. I turn her face toward mine.

“If I remember correctly, a friend would do this, too,” I murmur, before touching my lips lightly to hers.

It’s little more than a peck. Still, her fingers tighten on my shoulder.

“This, too,” I say. I kiss her again, a little longer this time.

This time her lips move beneath mine, responding.

I pull back just enough to speak. “And this.”

My fingers slide deep into her hair and grip the back of her head. The next time I bring my mouth to hers, I put the force of my passion behind it. My lips slide hungrily across hers, showing her how much I still want and need her.

And she responds. The hand on my shoulder slides down to my back, pulling me closer. Her mouth opens beneath mine, her tongue slipping out to meet my lips. And I take full advantage, sucking it into my mouth, sliding my own tongue across hers. A moan hums in her throat.

I respond with a growl and yank her hard against my body. If this continues to be what it means for us to be friends, I think I can endure it.

In truth, though, I don’t know what I’m going to do. There’s no fixing this, no solving this dilemma through sheer force of will. If there is truly no way for Victoria to bear me a child, then she can’t be the queen Montovia needs.

But right now, I can’t seem to give a damn.

Right now, she’s in my arms. Kissing me. Pulling me closer. Dragging me further under her spell. My body burns with a deep, primal need for her—something that goes beyond the purely physical and goes to the very core of my being.

The logical part of my mind tells me I should let her go. That I should take her advice and find a woman who can give me an heir, a woman who’s noble and wise and prepared to be queen. I’m not Leopold. I don’t make rash, illogical decisions. I don’t put my country at risk or shirk my duties to indulge in my own desires.

Or maybe I do. Maybe I was always supposed to.

Fuck my duties. Fuck my responsibilities. Fuck the chains of obligation that almost dragged me off the side of the palace roof. Fuck everything else in this damned world. I want Victoria. Need her with every fiber of my being. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I refuse to continue fighting it.

I twist her and drag her onto my lap, helping her straddle me without breaking our kiss. My hands move down to her ass, pulling her hips against mine. I lift partially off the seat, grinding against her and letting her feel how much I desire her.

Right now, I don’t care about an heir. I don’t care about the future. I just care about this moment—about joining with her the way we were meant to be joined.

She’s wearing a skirt, thank God. I don’t have the patience for anything else. I drag the garment up her thighs, pulling it away from her skin. My hands slip beneath the fabric and find the sweet, soft curves of her ass, and I squeeze her until she moans again against my mouth.

Fortunately, she seems just as eager as I am. Her hands grapple with my belt, and as she undoes it I slip my fingers beneath the lace of her underwear.

When my belt is undone, her hands move to my zipper. I lift my hips again, helping her move my pants down just enough to free my aching cock. I almost lose control when her fingers slide down the hard length of it.

But as much as I’d love for her to wrap her hand around me and bring me to completion, I’d much rather be inside of her when I come. Be as close to her as I can be.

I grab the crotch of her underwear and pull it aside, letting my fingers slide against the wetness between her legs as I remove that final fabric barrier between us. She grips my cock and guides me into place, and I shift my hips and thrust them forward, driving into her in one motion.

For a moment, neither of us moves. We’re no longer kissing, but our faces are still so close that I can feel her ragged breaths against my lips as she adjusts to having me inside of her.

My breath is ragged, too. Every nerve in my body is on fire. Every muscle tense with restraint. Part of me wants to grab her and fuck her senseless, but the other part of me just wants to sit here for a moment and revel in the ecstasy of simply being inside of her, of feeling her all around me.

I let my hands slide up her body, finally coming to rest on either of her cheeks.

“Is a friend allowed to love you?” I ask, my voice raw.

Her lips fall open, but no sound comes out. After a moment, she nods.

“Thank God,” I croak.

She shifts then, sliding forward in my lap and sending an exquisite jolt of pleasure through me. Her lips find mine, and then all of my control is lost.

My hands drop to her hips, gripping her as I thrust up into her, meeting the rhythm of her movements. Both of her hands are on my shoulders, and her nails press into my skin through the fabric of my shirt as she rides me.

I’m never letting you go, I think as my tongue tangles with hers. Never. I don’t care what duty tells me. I don’t care if you can’t have children. You’re mine. And you will always be mine.

A friend wouldn’t say such things. But no matter what lies Victoria wants to tell herself, she and I can never be friends. There might have been a chance of it once, long ago, but not now. We’ve experienced too much of each other. Shared bits of our souls that we can’t take back. Shared pleasure that we can’t easily forget.

There’s no other pleasure like this—of that I am certain. I’d sell my soul to the devil before I walked away from it.

Maybe you’ve already sold your soul, the responsible part of my mind whispers.

If I have, then it’s too late for me now. If I am to be damned because I’ve chosen Victoria, then I am prepared to accept my fate.

My entire body is tight. My skin burning. My entire being focused on one thing and one thing only. I increase the rhythm of my hips, driving into her faster. Deeper. The gasps and little cries that escape from her lips are the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.

Her hands move from my shoulders to the top of the padded bench on either side of my head, and I hear the leather creak beneath the tight grip of her fingers. I groan as I feel her body start to contract around me.

My hands slide from her hips to her ass, clutching her with a force that makes her moan again. We’re getting loud—I only hope the poor conductor doesn’t hear and think something is wrong again.

Right now, though, my focus is on one thing and one thing only—bringing us both over the edge. I can feel the pressure building, swelling in my cock, and from the erratic movement of her hips, I think she must be getting close as well. But this position doesn’t allow me to move nearly as fast or as deep as I’d like.

“Hold on,” I growl to her, tightening my grip on her.

I mean to twist and push her down on the bench, but instead we somehow end up on the floor with her on her back and me on top of her. Oh well—I don’t have the will or the patience to stop now.

I hook an arm beneath either of her legs and push her knees up toward her body, sliding into her as deep as I can go. We both groan as one, and I quickly resume the rhythm we had before.

Victoria is almost there. Her cries have turned into little hiccups of sound, and her body starts to tense. Her eyelids flutter.

“Look at me.” My voice is hoarse.

Her eyes snap open, and the moment our gazes meet, she reaches her peak. She cries out and grips my back, but her eyes never leave mine, even as she writhes beneath me.

I don’t try to drag out my own release. I pump into her once, twice, three more times before my own climax hits, and I hold myself deep inside as I fill her.

Fill her as much as you like, comes the tiny voice at the back of my mind. Nothing will ever come of it.

I push that voice aside and lean down, capturing her lips with mine. She’s already starting to go limp beneath me, but her arms slide around my neck, holding my face to hers.

Slowly, I lower myself next to her, still keeping as close to her as humanly possible. My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I can feel an echoing pulse in my cock. I might be spent, but my body is still throbbing for her.

After a moment, as we start to catch our breaths, we cover ourselves up again. She pushes her skirt down over her thighs, and I zip my pants back up. But we remain on the floor of the compartment, curled up together against the rough carpet.

“There’s a bed through that door over there,” I murmur. “Though I’m not sure it’s big enough for two people. And I’m not sure I want to move.”

“Me either,” she whispers back.

There’s so much I want to say to her now. I want to assure her once again that my feelings for her haven’t changed, that even though I don’t know how we’ll deal with the fact that she can’t have children, I’m still not willing to let go of this.

Instead, I say, “You, Victoria, are a very good friend.”

She lets out a little laugh. “So are you.”

We don’t say anything to each other after that. Little by little, I can feel myself drifting off, succumbing to exhaustion and to the rhythmic motion of the train. Victoria relaxes in my arms.

I’m not aware of the moment I fall asleep. But I must sleep, because everything seems to slip away into darkness.

The next thing I’m aware of is a soft brush of lips against my temple. A whispered word that I can’t quite hear in my state of half-sleep.

It takes me a moment to remember where I am. Why I’m here. And then it all comes rushing back—I’m on a train. With Victoria.

Except Victoria is no longer in my arms, I realize with a start.

My eyes snap open. I jerk into an upright position, looking around.

I’m alone in the compartment. Where is Victoria?

Quickly, I scramble to my feet. She must be in the washroom, I tell myself as I run my hands across my clothes, trying to smooth out any wrinkles. Don’t panic. You’re on a train—it’s not as if she could have gone very far.

But then my eyes move to the window, and I realize with a sickening jolt that we aren’t moving. We’re stopped at a station—Salzburg, by the look of it.

She’s run. Again.

As that thought sinks in, I feel the train purr to life again beneath me. Oh, God—we’re about to leave the station.

I don’t stop to think. I dash out of the compartment and down the train corridor toward the door. It’s already closed, but I grab at the handle. It doesn’t budge.

“Stop the train!” I shout, though I’m not sure who can hear me in this car. “By royal command, stop this bloody train!”

No one answers. But that’s when I see a red handle marked Emergency Override next to the door. I grab it and give it a hard yank.

I’m able to get the door open, but the train has already started to move. The platform is passing by, and we’re gaining speed quickly.

My only choice is to jump.

It’s stupid. It’s reckless. But I’ll be damned if I let Victoria run away from me again. Not when she can’t give me a real reason why we can’t be together.

Once again, I don’t let myself think. In another five seconds we’ll be going too fast for me to safely make the leap. I brace myself and jump.