Go Luck Yourself (Royals and Romance, #2)

by Sara Raasch

Because marrying her would’ve made you useful, and you have nothing else to offer.

And I didn’t realize until the very moment of telling Iris I love you that I only loved the idea of a happy ending, not her.

There’s a moment. Where I’m staring at the door. And I think to myself, This is my rock bottom. But I might as well find out what the full depth of my rock bottom looks like. Maybe there’s something interesting down here, like my dignity.

Hands grab my cheeks. Coal beams at me. “You tinsel-bombed the St. Patrick’s Day Prince,” he says. “I have never been more proud of you in my life.”

“Was that the apology you had in mind?” I whisper up at him. “Or should I go on about how all the rainbows in Ireland point to the pot of gold in your asshole?”

“Fuck me,” I groan to my plate. Loch doesn’t hesitate. “Only if you say please.”

“You’re all I’ve been able to think about for weeks. The only thought in my head is what your face will look like when I take you apart—like this, like this right now, you’re perfect.”

I know that his kiss tasted like all the dreams I waxed on about in the writing I don’t do anymore, the words I wove while trying to imagine Iris but all I imagined was a fantasy, an ending. He tasted like those fantasies. He felt like those endings. It’s him.

“You aren’t an awakening,” I whisper. “You’re the whole dawn. And I can’t believe I ever thought I’d seen the sun before you.”