I wanted him to move faster. I wanted him to move slower. I wanted this to never end.
My climax built slowly, the coiling sensation within my body increasing with each slow thrust of his hips. I clutched at his back, needing him closer, holding on for dear life as he held me teetering on the razor’s edge of release. Preston reached down, hooking one of my thighs over his hip, changing the angle and throwing me past the brink of ecstasy.
I gasped, struggling to breathe as my release tore through me; every muscle in my body pulled taut before I shattered into a million tiny pieces. It was powerful, it was raw, and it was everything I never knew I needed. This closeness, this intimacy, only served to heighten the pleasure.
Moaning as the aftershocks faded and Preston continued to thrust with a steady rhythm, the beginnings of another orgasm stirred, my core clenching around his length buried deep insideme. He felt it too, and I could hear as he grunted, trying to hold off until I reached that peak for a second time.
Hooking my other thigh around his waist, I locked my ankles and gave myself over the sensations building between my legs. Shuddering violently, I came again, pulling Preston over the cliff with me as he roared next to my ear. He was always so expressive in his release, and I was satisfied to see that didn’t change, regardless of our dynamic.
Preston rolled off me but didn’t go far, allowing me to curl into his side as we both came down from arguably the most intense sex I’d ever had.
I began sliding into unconsciousness as he rubbed soothing hands over my bare skin, but not before I came to the realization that it didn’t matter how we did it—the connection between me and Preston was explosive. What we did tonight was more than sex—it was meaningful. But that was something to dissect another day.
Chapter 24
Preston
During our time inMilan, I kept myself busy focusing on Lucy. Most days were spent finding new ways to grow our budding relationship. I learned more about her in those six weeks than I had in the previous twenty-plus years combined.
I especially enjoyed when she let her guard down just enough that I was able to do the same, as she countered my questions with her own. It gave me hope for a future where we worked together instead of against each other at every step.
Then we came home, and she discovered how I’d helped the families in the NICU who could not remain with their children for various reasons. There was a reason I did so anonymously—I didn’t need or want praise. I only did what I felt was right. Lucy was never supposed to know.
I’ll never forget how I found her, with tears streaming from her eyes as she held photographs in her trembling hands. It didn’t matter how long we spent talking—Lucy was still wary of me. But reading the words of others, hearing what I’d done to helpthem and expecting nothing in return, she could finally lower her defenses to see the person I was deep inside.
Our night together was incredible. I’d never felt so close to anyone in my entire life, and when she fell asleep in my arms, I held her close, praying it was the new start we so desperately needed.
Since then, we were taking our time, dipping our toes into the relationship pool. We got used to eating dinner together in Milan, so we continued to do so in our private suite. Some nights, Lucy worked in the other room. Other nights, we cuddled together on the couch, either reading independently or watching television. I continued not to rush her, and some nights she invited me into her bed. On nights she didn’t, I retreated to my separate bedroom without question or complaint.
We were making progress, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.
Being home made it glaringly obvious that I had nothing to do. Quitting my job right before we left didn’t hit me until now. Lucy continued with her public engagement schedule and occasionally asked me to accompany her, but more often than not, she went alone.
Left to my own devices, I learned every inch of Stonecrest Palace that was accessible for my clearance level. It was a massive castle with hundreds of years of history held within its stone walls. Often, I found myself strolling leisurely through the portrait gallery, brushing up on my knowledge of Bellestonian monarchs long past. It was strange to think that if someday Lucy and I did have children, they would be part of this grand lineage. Any man would be proud to have their bloodline tied to the Remingtons, but none of that ever mattered to me. If there was anything I learned from my and Lucy’s upbringing, it was that children should be allowed to have their own identities. Family was important, but finding yourself was paramount.
Bored out of my mind, having run out of places to explore, I ventured into Liam’s office. Lucy and Amy had gone to a shelter housing women and children who were the victims of domestic abuse, so I knew he’d be home for the day. Lucy made it clear that this was not a trip where the men would be overly welcome, and I could appreciate that. It made my blood boil thinking about the weak men who needed to beat on their wives or girlfriends and kids to feel big.
Liam was only slightly surprised to see me, glancing up at the intrusion with a smile. “Hey there, stranger.”
Dropping into the chair opposite his desk, I sighed. “I need something to do.”
Laughing, he replied, “You’d think Lucy was handful enough to keep you busy.”
“Not funny. I’m serious. I’m going crazy,” I vented.
Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his desk chair. “You know I’d be happy to hand you one of my projects, but it wouldn’t make much sense. You’re not going to be living this life for long.”
I hated that he was right. “I can do background stuff, clerical work. Anything, man. I’m desperate.”
Eying me, he asked, “Things not going well with Lucy still?”
“We’re fine.” I sighed.
“The broken-down door begs to differ.” Liam leveled me with a glare.
Returning his glare, I countered, “Are we really doing this?”
“I think I have a right to know if my sister is in a bad situation. Not that you’d tell me if something untoward was going on.” He scoffed.
