●SARAH●

“Hey, you okay?”

Chris’s voice cut through the beautiful silence as I sensed a sound of worry from his tone and I couldn’t blame him.

I hadn’t said a word since he appeared behind me, his warmth pressed against my back. I savored it for a moment, despite my brain screaming to come up with a plan—a plan not to feel anything at all. But how could I not, when every inch of him was a reminder of last night?

I said nothing, and he slowly turned me around, his hands on my waist, drawing me closer than I wanted, or maybe closer than I could handle. His touch was magnetic, his breath brushing my cheek as those green eyes locked onto mine, searching.

His eyes. God, those eyes. The same shade of green I’d told him was my favorite color, not even a lie—though I never had a favorite until him.

“Seriously, you’re scaring me,” he chuckled nervously, brushing a hand across my forehead as if checking for a fever. “Are you okay?”

“Did I say I was sick?” I shot back, forcing a small smile.

He laughed, relieved. “Thank goodness you’re talking now.” His hand fell to his pocket, and I followed the movement, my gaze lingering over the sharp lines of his black suit. The way it clung to his frame—muscles straining beneath the fabric—had me throbbing in ways I wished I could ignore. His dirty blonde hair was perfectly styled, like something out of one of those novels where the CEO sweeps the heroine off her feet.

Except this wasn’t a story. This was my reality, and I was drowning in it.

I glanced at his neck—no marks. Odd. I could’ve sworn I left a hickey last night. Or maybe I didn’t. My memory was fuzzy, blurred by the haze of what we did.

“Stop staring at me like that, Sarah,” he chuckled again, walking away to sit in the chair his guards had set for me.

“I’m not staring at you,” I lied, biting my lip. His smirk told me he wasn’t buying it. His arms folded over his chest, the suit tightening, pulling against his body in a way that had my thoughts spiraling. Every muscle, every inch of him had touched me the night before.

Why the hell did he have to wear a suit today?

“Right…” he said, eyes narrowing with that dark, dangerous gleam. “Let me rephrase that—stop fucking me with your eyes. Or was last night not enough for you? We can always go again if you want.”

My breath hitched. Normally, I’d laugh it off, roll my eyes, but his words hit too close, sinking deep. The queen's words echoed in my head, louder now: What are you doing, Sarah? He’s engaged.

Not to me. To her.

I should’ve stayed away. I should’ve drawn the line. But last night had obliterated whatever thin boundary was left. Us, together like that—it was a mistake. A beautiful, intoxicating mistake.

"Sarah."

His voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blinked, realizing I’d been staring. “Hmm?”

His expression had shifted, no more smirk or teasing glint. Now, he just looked concerned. Too concerned.

“Come here.”

I blinked again. “Where?”

“Here.” His smile softened, one that was only ever for me, never for anyone else. Not his family, not even Alex. He patted his lap, spreading his legs slightly, adjusting himself. “Sit on me.”

I laughed, a nervous sound. “No way. Get out of my chair.”

“Then where do I sit?” His voice was teasing again, but I could tell he wasn’t going to move.

“You know you could just ask a guard for another chair,” I said, like it wasn’t the most obvious thing.

"Yeah I could,"

"But you won’t, right?"

A slow grin formed at the corner of his lips, revealing those damn dimples, telling me that my question didn't need an obvious answer, making me sigh in exhaustion.

He's so insufferable.

But also cute to— No, don't go there, Sarah.

I cleared my throat, “Could you leave now? I was about to have breakfast—alone.”

He nodded, his eyes flickering to the table. “I see.” He stood up, pulling off his suit jacket, revealing the tight black shirt beneath.

Don't you dare become horny, Sarah.

“You sure love black, don’t you?” I blurted, unable to stop the words as he sat back and I knew what came next.

He laughed softly, and my eyes trailed to the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke. “Not really. It’s just easy to wear, less thinking involved.”

I nodded, biting my lip. My mind was spinning, the weight of the queen’s words hitting my chest as hard. He’s engaged, he's fucking engaged, fucking enga—

“Sarah.”

“What?”

His gaze turned serious, pinning me in place. “Come sit on my lap.”

I let out a long, shaky breath. My heart pounded in my chest, warning me, reminding me of everything that was wrong about this. But my body… my body didn’t listen. I took a step forward.

“This is weird,” I muttered, glancing around nervously. If anyone saw us—if Alex saw us…

He shrugged, his lips curling slightly. “What’s weird about my fiancée sitting on my lap?”

My breath caught. Fiancée.

“F-Fake fiancée,” I corrected, my voice trembling as I stood in front of him, his hands already reaching for my waist, pulling me closer until I was on his lap, our faces only inches apart. My pulse quickened, heat flooding my body as I felt him beneath me.

“Why do you keep ignoring the part where this is fake?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “This isn’t real.”

His hand slid up to my hip, pulling me even closer. His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “Does this feel fake, Sarah? Because to me." He bites my earlobe gently, making me hiss in pleasure. "This feels fucking real to me.”

"Chris," I moan softly as his lips leave my ear and trail down to my neck. He starts pressing soft kisses on a spot that makes me arch my back involuntarily. He knows exactly where to kiss, exactly where to bite. When his teeth gently graze my skin, I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. My entire body responds, a deep ache building in places I wish I could ignore.

"This is not fake, Sarah," he whispers against my ear, his breath hot and sending shivers down my spine. "This can never be fake. And the sooner you accept that, the easier it will be."

His words cut through the haze of desire clouding my mind. I try to regain control, pulling myself out of this moment, knowing it shouldn't be happening. But the thought of him belonging to someone else rushes in, snapping me back to reality.

"Chris, we need to stop." My voice is shaky as I try to stand, but his grip tightens around me, pulling me back down onto his lap. I glare at him, trying to mask the internal war raging inside me. "Chris, didn’t you hear me?"

"I did," he replies calmly, his hold on me firm but not aggressive.

"Then let me go," I demand, using more strength to push away from him. Even though being in his arms feels too right, like the comfort of a warm blanket, I can’t do this. I have too much at stake, too many things on the line. And the queen... she’s already counting down my days here.

"No," he says flatly, as if the thought of releasing me never crossed his mind.

"Chris, you have to. Alex could walk in at any minute—"

"She won’t be coming to the palace." His voice is steady as he rests his head on my shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. "She won’t be here for a while, but she’ll come for the press tomorrow. You can see her then."

My shoulders slump at that revelation. "Is something wrong with her? Why isn’t she coming to the palace?"

For a moment, he says nothing. I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, like he's hiding something from me. His silence speaks louder than any answer he could give.

"It’s not my place to say," he finally responds, his voice carrying a weight I can’t quite place. "Maybe when you see her tomorrow, you can ask her yourself."

I don’t press further. The way he's avoiding the topic makes it clear something serious is going on, but I decide not to push. I nod instead, swallowing my questions for now.

I’ll see Alex tomorrow.

Chris gives me a brief smile, but before I can say anything more, my stomach growls—loudly. His laughter fills the room, warm and unrestrained, and I feel my face flush with embarrassment.

"You seriously haven’t eaten?" he teases, his amusement only making me feel more self-conscious.

"I told you!" I mutter, trying to hide my embarrassment, but there’s no use.

He tilts my chin up gently, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Hey, don’t be shy now," he says, his voice soft and coaxing.

I scoff, trying to regain some dignity. "I'm not shy. It's just embarrassing."

He bites his lip, trying not to laugh, but the mischief in his eyes is unmistakable. "Right... let's fix that then." He reaches for a bowl of fruit nearby, plucking a grape and bringing it to my lips. "Let’s start with this."

"Stop pampering me like I’m some kind of princess," I mutter, rolling my eyes and reaching to take the grape from him. But he pulls his hand back, playfully refusing to let me.

"Chris," I warn.

He raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Hmm?"

"Why are you so stubborn?"

"Why are you so resistant to letting me take care of you?" he counters, his voice laced with that familiar mix of charm and challenge.

"Take care of me? I'm not some fucking princess, you know." I roll my eyes again, but the playful banter doesn’t hide the tension between us.

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, sending a chill down my spine. "I'm not trying to treat you like some fucking princess, Sarah."

I swallow hard."Then what?"

"I want to treat you like a fucking queen, love."

The way he says it, the way his eyes darken as they hold mine, makes me know he's dead serious and as much I want to ignore that, I just can't. Even though I know better, even though I tell myself I need to stay away, I feel myself sinking deeper into him.

And maybe, just for this moment, I don’t want to stop.

"So if you want me to treat you like that," he murmurs, bringing the grape toward my lips. His fingers brush slowly across my lower lip, sending heat flooding through my body. "Then take a bite, love."

Oh, God. Lord have mercy on me.

Our eyes lock, and in that moment, I see the truth in his words—he means every bit of it. And, damn it, I’m loving every second. The hunger in his gaze is unmistakable, a fire that promises more than I’m ready to admit.

I part my lips, teasingly licking the tip of his finger as I take the grape from him. His breath hitches, and I see the shift in his expression—the sharp intensity in his stare tells me he’s ready to take me right here, right now.

And the worst part? I wouldn’t mind— Stop it, Sarah. Get it together.

"It’s good," I murmur, clearing my throat as I chew, the sweet juice from the grape filling my mouth. "Thank you."

"Anytime." His voice is low, almost a growl, and he reaches for another grape. I meet his gaze again, and this time, I don’t fight it. I let him feed me. A part of me enjoys the way he’s treating me, like I’m something precious. It feels good. Too good.

As I chew the fourth grape, I decide to shift the conversation. "How was your meeting?"

He sighs, the sound heavy. "It was fine. Just another discussion on creating more jobs for the people."

"That’s good," I say, trying to focus on anything but the way his hand is still resting on my waist, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my skin.

"It is," he agrees, handing me another grape. "But the problem is the sheer number of people who still don’t have work. Finding the money to create enough jobs... it’s complicated."

I nod, understanding what he means. Even with all their wealth and influence, the demands are overwhelming. Trying to satisfy so many people is no easy feat. "Why not start small businesses for people who want to become owners?" I suggest, hoping my idea might help.

"You think?" His attention sharpens, and for a moment, I feel a small thrill. He’s actually listening to me.

"Yes, I’m sure," I say, adjusting slightly, feeling his hand still firmly on my waist. "Not everyone wants to be their own boss, but for those who do, it’s a good option. And for the ones who don’t have experience, you could have them learn from those who do. They’d get paid while they’re learning, and it’d give them something to do in the meantime."

He doesn’t respond right away, just stares at me. For the first time in a long while, I feel self-conscious under his gaze. "That... was dumb, right?" I ask, nervous now. "If it’s a bad idea, just tell me—"

Before I can finish my sentence, his lips crash against mine, silencing me. His hand slides into my hair, pulling me closer, and everything else fades away. I barely have time to react before his other hand is on my hip, guiding me into him.

"Chris, what are you—" My protest dies as he deepens the kiss, his lips hard and demanding. My hands find his hair, clinging to him as desire takes over. His tongue moves against mine, slow at first, then faster, more urgent, as if he’s claiming me. My hips move on their own, grinding against him, and I feel him grind back.

We’re dry humping, right here, outside. Just like the first time in his room. Only now, we’re in public.

Holy shit, we’re still outside.

With the last shred of strength I have, I pull away, gasping for air. My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at him, my mind spinning. "What the hell was that?"

He chuckles, his eyes dancing with amusement, and instead of answering, he presses a soft kiss to my lips, catching me off guard. "Just happy."

"About what?" My heart is still racing, every second of silence stretching on, making me feel like I might explode from the tension.

"I’m happy," he whispers, leaning closer. His breath brushes my skin, sending another shiver down my spine. "Happy that Alex chose you."

I search his eyes, seeing a depth of emotion I hadn’t expected. He looks... relieved. Like a child who finally got what he wanted. It’s more than just desire. He wants me—not just in a physical way, but in every sense.

And maybe, deep down, I want him too.

But I can’t.

I can’t give in.

You're such a big liar, Sarah.

●●●

ARGHHHH I JUST CAN'T!!

SARAH MAKE UP YOU'RE MIND AND ALLOW CHRIS WANT YOU!!! 🤧😭😭

I DEFINITELY FOUND THIS CHAPTER CUTE AND HOT HEHE.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!♥️♥️