Prince

by Cambria Hebert

  34

  Fletcher

  * * *

  He chose me. A choice I didn’t even ask him to make, a decision he made on his own.

  A decision he would have told me about this morning if I’d given him the chance.

  I should have listened. I shouldn’t have run off so fast.

  Running away had become my ultimate defense mechanism, a habit that would be hard to break. It was so easy to believe I wasn’t good enough, so easy to let that menacing voice rule my brain.

  But there was one thing clearer than ever before: She would never rule my heart.

  Even when my mind screamed I was worthless, my heart still whispered to love. Even when her evil voice resonated inside me, screaming that no one would ever love me, my heart whispered, He will.

  I felt his anguish tonight before I even looked over the back of the couch. His desperation tainted the air. It felt like an earthquake inside my heart.

  The moment I looked at him, my heart whispered again. See, I told you.

  Even when my brothers tried to chase him away, he didn’t back down. I was completely in awe of this side of him, a side I’d not seen before. Yes, he was always strong and protective, always capable and sure. Tonight, he’d been all of that, but he was vulnerable too.

  Not only did he explain to me but to my family. When they refused to leave, he just told them too. Despite how strong and confident Ethan was, he was also just a man.

  Human just like me.

  A prince. But an imperfect one.

  “I can walk.” I protested for the third time.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he made a sound. “You aren’t wearing shoes.”

  “I would be if you’d let me put them on in the car.” He carried my shoes around all day because he knew I’d run out without them.

  “Your feet are dirty.”

  “I can walk.”

  “I want to hold you.”

  I nuzzled the back of his neck, smiling at his words. Despite the exhaustion in my body, suddenly, my heart felt suffused with energy.

  The elevator dinged open, and I held my breath, thinking of the broken glass and flowers I’d left in my wake. Everything was completely clean, the table empty.

  Ethan must have felt me staring because his voice was soft as we went to the door. “Jane cleaned it up.”

  Embarrassment and awkwardness assailed me. The thought of Jane knowing what happened earlier and the way I ran off made me want to hide.

  “She’s not here.” Ethan’s voice was quiet as he let us inside. “And I told her I bumped into the table because I was on my phone.”

  I said nothing, appreciative of his thoughtfulness but still reliving the last time I was here.

  “There she is,” Ethan said, stepping into the bedroom.

  Gwen meowed loudly, her tiny body rushing over to the door. I dropped onto the floor, holding out my hand for the tiny kitten.

  “I missed you!” I told her, stroking her soft fur. She started purring immediately, rubbing against my side. “I’m sorry I just ran off like that. It wasn’t your fault. I hope you weren’t upset.”

  I continued stroking and talking to the cat, fussing with her blankets and making sure she had enough food.

  A short while later, Ethan appeared above us. “She’s happy you’re home.”

  Home.

  I knew I’d called it that earlier, but the truth was it would still take some getting used to. I realized now it wasn’t that I didn’t trust Ethan, but I didn’t trust myself.

  I didn’t trust that I was good enough. I didn’t trust that I was lovable. And until I learned, I might always be fearful it could all just disappear.

  The air in the bathroom was slightly steamy and humid as Ethan led me toward the tub filled with warm water.

  “Wash up, okay?” He spoke gently, making my toes curl against the tile. “Make sure you clean your feet good, and when you’re done, I’ll see if they need bandaged up.”

  My stomach dipped because it sounded like he wasn’t going to stay. “What about you?”

  “I’ll be in the other room. If you need me, yell.”

  I watched him retreat. Every step he took made me more anxious than the last.

  “Are you mad at me?” I called, my words chasing after him.

  He made a shocked sound, spinning back. “Mad? Why on earth would I be mad at you?”

  “Because of before, of how I acted.”

  His eyes never left my face as he came back, the distance between us blissfully disappearing. “I am not mad at you. I was never mad. You ran off because of what I did. Because I hurt you. You didn’t do anything wrong, okay?”

  “Then why are you leaving me in here?”

  An exasperated look filled his eyes. “I’m just trying to give you some space. Today was a lot. I-I’m not sure how you’re feeling.”

  “I don’t want space. We had it all day.”

  He groaned, reaching out to cup the back of my neck. “I don’t want it either.”

  “Stay.”

  Grasping the hem of my shirt, he tugged, and I lifted my arms so he could peel the clothing off my body. His eyes surveyed my bare chest and arms as if he were taking inventory, making sure I was really okay.

  As he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my pants, his eyes asked for permission. Settling my hands over his, I pushed them down, peeling away everything on my lower half.

  His eyes were heavy. Tension and desire swirled in the humid space. Every touch against my skin felt electric as if I were a live wire about to shoot sparks.

  When he was also bare, we sank into the hot water, the gentle waves lapping against our skin. Settling between his thighs, I lay against him, sighing in relief.

  Cascades of water poured over me, his big hands lazily washing everywhere he could reach. The cuts and scrapes on my feel stung, but the feeling was secondary to everything else.

  Lifting my head, I reached up to stroke my finger across his forehead. “How’s your head?”

  “Not as bad as before,” he murmured, eyes drifting closed as I continued to stroke.

  Water splashed lightly when I sat up fully to press my thumbs against his temples to massage in gentle circles.

  He hummed appreciatively as I continued the ministrations.

  “Did you take medicine?”

  He hummed again. “Yes, just a little bit ago.”

  “You should have taken it sooner.”

  His eyes opened. The deep flash of blue colliding with mine made me shiver. “I couldn’t think about that. All I could think about was you.”

  I frowned, feeling incredibly stupid for running off this morning, for letting my self-doubt cloud the way he made me feel. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

  Reaching up, he cupped my wrists gently, pulling them down to rest on his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

  I nodded, wanting to ask something. Wanting to hear it one last time. But I was afraid.

  “Hey,” he murmured, tipping my chin up with his hand. “If there’s something, just say it. Anything.”

  I swallowed, drawing in a breath. “You really don’t love her… right?”

  A rough sound bounced off the bathroom walls, punctuated by the splash of water and the feel of it waving against my sides. “

  Taking my face, he held it firmly, blue eyes spilling over with emotion, imploring me with truth. “How could I possibly love her when I’ve given my heart to you?”

  My lower lip trembled. My heart seemed to swell. “You did?”

  A beautiful smile lit his tired eyes, and he nodded. “Oh yes, Fletcher. You own me. Heart and soul. I could never love anyone else because I am so in love with you.”

  Shock rippled through me. Shock and awe. My hands clamped around his wrists, holding on while he held me.

  “W-w-what did you say?” The stutter was a complete tell of my surprise.

  His eyes softened. “I love you, Fletcher. I love you so goddamn much.
”

  My breathing hitched. The world went dull around me. Everything ceased to exist. All that remained was those words, those beautiful words no one had ever said to me before.

  A tsunami of emotion crashed over me, filling me until there was no room left beneath my skin, and my feelings spilled out, streaking my cheeks with tears.

  A tender sound filled the room. The pads of his thumbs swept away the wetness. “Puppy.”

  More tears trailed down my cheeks when I finally found the courage to look back into his eyes. Even through the watery gaze, I could see love reflected there. I could feel it in his fingertips.

  He means it.

  “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

  Shock rippled over his features, followed by sadness and disbelief. “No one?”

  I shook my head. “Not even her… not even my own mother.”

  “Milly?” he whispered.

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I nodded.

  More tears fell as his lips fluttered like butterfly wings over my damp cheeks and nose. My chest squeezed so tight I had to gasp for breath, the overwhelming emotions pummeling me still.

  “I love you,” he whispered against my skin.

  A broken sob left me. I lifted my lips, seeking his. We met no more than a second later, kissing without caution, devouring each other as if we were starved.

  He stood, bringing me with him, my legs winding instantly around his waist. We continued kissing as he stepped out of the bath, our lips still fused as he draped us with warm towels.

  I shivered and clung to him, not because I was cold but because I was so entirely overwhelmed.

  When he pulled back, I made a sound of distress, trying to follow.

  He clucked his tongue, making my eyes lift, my breath catching all over again. The glowing blue embers in his stare nearly scorched me from the inside out.

  “It’s just us, okay? No one else allowed.”

  “Just us,” I echoed as my back hit the wall. His hand cradled my head as his mouth slanted over mine again and again until the only thing that definitely existed was us.

  His love for me.

  My hands turned greedy, moving to explore his bare skin and sink my nails in.

  Disconnecting our mouths, he dipped his head to suck one already sensitive nipple into his mouth.

  I cried out, arching into him, digging my hands into his hair, demanding more.

  He sucked and nipped until it was swollen and nearly sore before traveling to the other one and leaving it in the same state.

  Desperation tinged the air. Need made me blind.

  “Ethan, please,” I whimpered, moving restlessly against him.

  Carrying me to the bed, he laid me out, his large frame blocking out every other sight. Our kiss this time was sloppy and full of desire, his hard, naked body rubbing against mine.

  I sighed even as we kissed, his weight delicious, the scent and feel of his skin exactly what I needed. Reaching into the nightstand, he pulled out a small packet and a now-familiar bottle. A small expression of doubt crossed his eyes as he glanced between me and the bottle. I put my hand over his, silently telling him it was okay. That I was okay.

  The soreness in my body was no match for the gnawing need to have him inside me again. I didn’t care if it would hurt. I would die if he didn’t do it.

  He wasted no time, warming the lube between his fingers, our combined moans of satisfaction ringing loudly when he finally pushed the dripping digits between my legs.

  Despite our desperation and the fervor in our kisses, he worked me open slowly, thorough in his touch. His mindfulness of my body added another layer of sweet desperation to the way I felt for him, to the way I needed him. He used so much lube I felt slippery and drenched, but it was a feeling I honestly loved and would welcome again and again.

  Lips unlatching from my neck, he left behind a stinging sensation I knew would be another mark, a mark I wholeheartedly welcomed. Ethan leaned down to kiss me, only to halt hovering just above my lips.

  Gazing up in hazy confusion, I watched him smile.

  The fingers inside me curled against that sensitive spot, and light exploded behind my eyes. Vibrating in pleasure, he stroked me again and again until I thought I was going to come from just his fingers.

  “That’s my good boy,” he crooned, pulling his fingers out of my body.

  I whined because it left me feeling so empty, because I wanted him where he belonged.

  “Look at me.” He beckoned, voice hoarse and deep.

  “Where else would I look?” I practically slurred. “You are literally the only thing I see.”

  Possessiveness sparked in his eyes, as well as a predatory flame. In response, my thighs spread wider, and I bit down on my lip.

  “I love you, Fletcher.” He said the words at the exact moment he thrust in.

  I cried out, body burning as I stretched around his steely rod. The combination of pleasure and pain was heady, and my cock jerked in excitement.

  Holding still, he hovered above me, his swollen lips brushing against my ear. “Thank you for coming home.”

  Wrapping my arms around him, I tugged, asking for his weight, sighing when he gave it.

  And then we were kissing again, and he was moving, filling me up in a way I’d never been filled before. Filling me up in a way I knew no one else ever could.

  35

  Ethan

  * * *

  Are you worried he’ll hate you?

  His question taunted me. The verbal answer I’d given was vague.

  The honest answer inside me was absolute.

  No, Fletch. I’m worried he’ll hate you.

  I was worried that old-school, old-money elitist would snarl in derision because I loved someone who was poor. Someone who could offer me nothing but his love.

  To my father, love wasn’t that valuable.

  To me, it was priceless.

  And yes, I worried he would be appalled by my heart who loved a man more than it could ever love a woman. He would assume because it was a man I loved, that, again, our love wasn’t as valuable.

  In my father’s eyes, Fletcher wouldn’t make a pretty trophy on my arm at balls, dinners, or in the press. On the contrary, I didn’t want a trophy, but if I did, Fletcher would be the most beautiful one I could hold. He was the ultimate prize I could ever win in this life.

  I always knew my father and I were different, but I didn’t realize until recently just how truly opposite we were. Maybe I never noticed because it never really mattered.

  Until now.

  I feared he would make me chose. And I would. The choice wouldn’t be my parents. I would choose Fletch time and again.

  They might hate him for that. Might blame him for the “sudden” change in my desires and wants when, in reality, this was who I was all along. This was just a part of me I never chose to show them.

  I could not, would not, abhorrently refused to let Fletcher suffer the consequences of my actions. He did nothing at all to deserve derision. And if they hated him for such petty things… then I would hate them.

  I didn’t want to hate my own family, but without a doubt, I knew I would.

  Regret swarmed me, stinging like a thousand bees. I regretted the choices I’d made to keep pieces of myself private. It never seemed like a big deal before. In the beginning, it was more out of shock. The realization I could be gay was something I wanted to be sure of. I wanted to know that part of myself before I allowed anyone else to.

  And when I did choose to explore that part of me, I mostly kept it abroad, out of the prying eyes of the press, away from the elitist gossipmongers. I was content that way, basically having my cake and eating it too. I explored that part of myself with Preston, no strings attached, and I kept my life intact here as well.

  I always thought those things made me smart. I never considered it might make me a coward, not until recently.

  Now that damned word echoed in the back of my mind, constantly taunti
ng, making me feel like I was less than who I pretended to be.

  I’d never been so hard on myself. The torment was maddening.

  A soft sound, the feel of a smaller body cuddling close, chased away those dark thoughts. Short golden strands of wild hair fanned across my chest. Plump pink lips were slightly parted, the feel of his steady breath tickling my bare skin. Long fingers curled around my bicep, clinging even as he slept.

  My heart tumbled, stomach flipping as possessiveness so fierce rose inside me that my fist tightened against the sheets.

  No, I wasn’t afraid my parents wouldn’t accept me, but not accepting Fletch? I would never tolerate that.

  The need to protect him was so fierce it kept me quiet these last couple weeks. He changed me so profoundly, altering the very way I was built, and I needed time to live in it. To revel in this new world he created within me, to absorb the overpowering feelings I never knew I could feel. It wasn’t that I was ashamed or embarrassed. I was so insanely overwhelmed by him that I needed time to have him to myself.

  That time was running out, however. And after seeing his stricken reaction to even the thought of Sienna being around made that startlingly clear.

  Oh God, the look in his eyes. The broken, let-down pain.

  “Never again.” I vowed quietly, stroking his hair. “I’ll never make you hurt like that again.”

  My hand stayed buried in his hair even when his head lifted. Blinking slowly, his dark lashes lifted, tendrils of sleep clinging in his gaze. Even in his sleepy stupor, he smiled at me, owning my heart, slaying my soul.

  Massaging the pads of my fingers into his scalp, I watched his eyelids droop.

  “You can sleep a little longer,” I told him, completely soaking in the delicious feel of his weight against me.

  I canceled with my trainer again, this time telling him the migraine left me slightly sick, which really wasn’t a lie. I’d worked out with a migraine hangover before, but the truth was I wanted every moment I could get this morning with Fletch.

  “You have to get up soon. I don’t want sleep our time away,” he murmured, thoughts clearly aligning with mine.

  I made a sound, ready to indulge with whatever he could ask. “What do you want, then?”