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“When I see you drag your scraggly ass in from a romp in the Ignatius hay, I feel ten times older.”
That was one of the shitty aspects of being single. No one to touch, no warm body to cling to on a cold night in bed, no one to complain to when things didn’t go your way.
So here’s the deal. You’re doing it. If you don’t show up, I’ll be considered a no-show among my peers. You wouldn’t do that to a broken-down old lady, would you?” “You’re going to burn in hell,” I muttered. “As long as they have an espresso machine, I’m cool with it. Thank you, Fee. I owe you one,” she said before promising to email the details.
As he leaned over, his damp shirt rode up his back, revealing a strip of skin above the electric blue waistband of his underwear. Andrew Christian underwear.
“Nngh,” I managed around the lump in my throat. Lio’s eyes brightened and his lips curved into a grin. “Cat got your tongue, Felix?” His finger lowered and circled around one of my nipples.
As his cock began to stretch me out, I winced and focused on relaxing. I hadn’t been telling the truth earlier, obviously. Of course I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t had anal sex in ages. I’d probably revirginated in the time since I’d last had it.
It was the single most intimate and erotic experience I’d ever had. And I couldn’t help but wonder if it would remain so for the rest of my life.
But most of all, when I limped out of bed the next morning, I heard the quiet echo of his last words mumbled into my hair in the middle of the night. I’m not sure I can live without you.
I advanced the slide deck on my laptop to show the photograph I’d taken outside of the treasury room at Gadleigh when I’d discovered the tiny, almost hidden stone marker. I had translated it from the French: My Etienne - whose heart shined like colored glass in the sun.
“If you don’t get your scrawny ass down here, I’m quitting the royal service and he can dress himself. I’d be just as happy dressing the rich and famous at Hermès.”
Our young prince has lost his marbles and become some kind of robot prince. Fix it, Felix. Fix it now.” “I can’t fix it, Arthur,” I said on a sigh. “I wish I could.” “Please,” he begged. “Come to Monaco, Felix. We need you here.” “I’m on my way,” I promised. Silence. “Well,” he muttered. “That was easier than I expected.”
“I really care about him, Grandpa Wilde,” I said quietly. “When I left him at Gadleigh, it was like I left one of my lungs there too. I can hardly breathe.”
I stopped ranting long enough to catch my breath. Why hadn’t he stopped me before I turned into a raving lunatic? “He’s such a good fucking human being, you know?” I added in a rough voice. “So beautiful. His heart is so pure. He deserves so much.” I looked down and realized I was gripping Grandpa Wilde’s hand.
I wondered if my abhorrence of the media included the comprehensive coverage that would surely follow the cold-blooded murder of a lovely art history professor in the music room of the royal palace in Monaco.
That was my heart right there, and it was walking around free as if it didn’t belong in the center of my chest.
“Come with me,” a steady voice said from behind me. Arthur grabbed my elbow and steered me through a side door, down what looked to be a service corridor, and into a small sitting room. Where sat the king of Liorland.
“Get the fuck in the house, we’re here for an intervention,” he barked. I could immediately see how he’d succeeded as a Navy SEAL and wondered if maybe they wanted him back. We needed another bossy Wilde man around the ranch like a hole in the head.
