25. Kale

Something like warmthbloomed in my chest, spreading through my whole body when Christian very studiously adjusted the ends of my scarf around my neck. I didn't need—or expect—him to serve me in some of the ways we'd talked about over coffee, but I was content to let him explore as much as he wanted for the rest of our limited time together. I wasn't sure if he'd heard his brother and me speaking, but he hadn't said anything and I wasn't going to bring it up. We had two days and two nights left, and I was going to make the most of them. So, when he asked to see the city, the answer was an immediate yes.

After breakfast and after our after-breakfast fuck, we took a hot and slow shower together, then dressed and kissed, and kissed some more. It was nearly two in the afternoon by the time we made it out of the house on our way to Central Park. While I'd always loved the city, I'd long ago grown familiar and bored with the tourist traps. There were always more people, and while money wasn't an issue for me, things were more expensive too. I preferred the higher-class establishments that were harder for people to gain access to.

The Black Door, for one.

Christian held tight to my hand as we headed up Fifth Ave, past the Pulitzer Fountain and into the park. I had to admit the place was gorgeous in the fall, overflowing with vibrant orange and yellow leaves that drifted from the treetops and blanketed the ground. He squeezed my hand and grinned up at me, eyes wide as he took everything in.

"Do you have any place like this back home?" I asked.

While Christian and I had talked about a fair number of things, there was still so much I didn't know about him or about his life back home. I knew he was a prince and I knew everyone in his life, except his best friend, tried to control him, but beyond that…

"No," he said, chuckling as one of the fairytale carriages rolled past us. "Nothing this big, and not this many people."

"Tell me about what it's like."

Christian let out a long breath, mouth twisted down at the corner. "Can we eat first?"

I pulled my hand out of my pocket to check my watch, frowning at the time. "You'll ruin dinner."

"Thanks, Dad."

"We can eat," I said.

"You'll just have to keep me up late so I can have dinner at ten," Christian suggested, tugging me toward one of the gyro stands. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet while we waited our turn. After we got some food, he beelined it for a bench. I sat down beside him, happy to see him dig into his meal with the same speed and vigor he seemed to approach everything else in his life.

"What did you want to know?" he asked, mouth full of meat.

"Pardon?"

He had sauce on the corner of his mouth, and I wiped some away with my thumb, which I sucked into my mouth to clean off.

"Before we got food, you asked what it was like at home," he said, taking another bite. "What did you want to know?"

"Anything," I told him. "Everything."

"There are underground tunnels that connect to the palace," Christian said. "They come out by the river inlet at the far edge of town."

"Did you used to sneak out that way?" I asked.

"Used to sneak boys in," he said, face flushing. "Parrish was a bad influence."

"How long have you known him?"

"My whole life." Christian nibbled at the last bite of his gyro before balling up the wrapper and setting it on the bench beside him. "His father is my father's lead advisor. We grew up together."

His nose twitched at the last comment, and I could tell there was more to the story, but I wasn't sure if it was safe to push him for more. It turned out I didn't have to because, after a short pause, Christian started talking again on his own.

"Parrish always had it easier, though," he went on. "All the perks of growing up in the palace without all the restrictions."

"He got to go home at night," I said.

Christian nodded, then gave me a lopsided shrug. "I would have lost my mind if it wasn't for him. He's kept me grounded for years, made sure my head stayed on whenever I got down about things."

"And he facilitated your kidnapping," I reminded.

Christian grinned, tilting his head to the side and looking up at me. There was something in his eyes, a flash of youthfulness he didn't normally wear, and it felt like I was getting a glimpse of a secret version of Christian that most people didn't have access to. I wrapped my arm around him, pulling him against my side. He rested his head on my shoulder with a soft and happy sigh.

"That he did," Christian murmured.

"What else?"

"I don't know. I spend a lot of time wondering what the future looks like for me there," he said.

"Explain."

"I'll never sit on the throne. Not that I would want to, because I don't. But…"

"You're held to the same standard," I guessed.

He didn't answer because both of us already knew it was true. For Christian, I represented a break from the monotony of his life. I was an escape. I swallowed, drawing up the memory of the times he'd said he loved me, of the moments where the emotion had been telegraphed clearly across his features, so I could try to see if there was any fault or lie in it. Did he truly love me, or just the idea of me? The things I represented? New York was a world away and I offered him a reprieve from the life that had beaten him into the kind of submission he didn't need.

"Is there really a castle here?" he asked me.

I cleared my throat. "And some ponds. A carousel. Did you want to go see anything?"

"Maybe the carousel," he said. "I've had my fill of castles and palaces."

"The carousel it is, then." I stood and held my hand out for him, and we headed toward the red brick gazebo that housed the ride. As we walked closer, peals of laughter bounced off the open walls, and Christian leaned into me happily.

"Do you want a go on it?" I asked.

"Will you ride too?"

I watched the horses rise and fall around the ride as it slowly crept to a stop, trying to remember if Boston and I had ever been on the carousel as children. We'd, of course, been to New York to visit our grandparents before making the move as teenagers, but I couldn't find a memory that involved anything beyond the formality of my grandparents' house or their social clubs.

"I don't think I ever have before," I said.

This earned another of those secret smiles that I'd decided I wanted to start collecting.

"Then we have to," he said.

"Then we have to."

I let Christian take the lead, hauling us through the line. I paid for our tickets which earned me a lingering and savory kiss on the mouth, and then Christian found his horse and found one for me too. At one point on the ride, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, fingers wrapped loosely around the spiraled brass bar that impaled the neck of the black horse he'd picked to ride. He looked just about as peaceful as he did when he was on the brink of an orgasm, and suddenly the idea of sending him home the day after tomorrow felt like the cruelest thing I could do to him.

If I was truly trying to be a partner for him, in whatever way worked best for us…if I was the thoughtful and dominant man I'd always imagined myself to be, how could I send him back to the place and the people who'd caused him so much distress? Because on top of being all those things, I was also a man of my word and it was my word I'd given to Niko, and to Phillip.

The decision seemed impossible.

"That was ridiculous," Christian said as the ride came to a halt. He climbed off the horse and jumped from the carousel. I was much slower at joining him, but once I came to stand beside him, he looped his arm around the crook of my elbow and shoved his hand into the pocket of my coat. "I loved it."

I feigned a laugh. "What do you want to do now?"

"You tell me. What do the tourists like?"

"I've never been a tourist here," I told him. "Boston and I moved here as teenagers and we were in boarding school almost immediately. My grandparents are lovely, but they're not the sightseeing type."

"But you're an adult now," he reasoned. "You could have gone and done all of these things on your own."

"I don't like people," I admitted, scratching the side of my neck. "I mean, I like my people, not all people."

"Trust issues, is it?"

"Yes and no, but…I've just never seen the city like that," I said. "It's just…home."

"Well, I hear the Empire State Building is pretty tall," Christian said with a grin.

"Do you have tall buildings back home?"

"Not that tall."

I couldn't tell him no. Didn't want to tell him no. I grabbed his face between my hands and yanked him into me, slanting our mouths together and licking my way past his lips. Christian let out a little whimper that tasted like candy, and I had to shove him away before I got an erection hard enough to count for public indecency.

After I pushed him away, Christian pressed his fingertips against his lips, cheeks flushed.

"Mr. Sheffield," he murmured, lashes fluttering. "You make it hard to be decent."

"I think that's half the fun of this," I said, "but I'd hardly call what's happening between my legs decent."

His stare flickered down to the growing bulge between my legs.

"Tallest tower in the city, indeed."

Christian's tease evolved into a laugh, and I shook my head, turning on the ball of my foot and heading toward Columbus Circle without him.

"You're a brat," I called over my shoulder at him.

He laughed again, running to catch up to me. Then his hand was in mine and his breath was warm against my skin as he pressed a kiss against my cheek.

"I'm your brat," he said.

I swallowed. "My brat."

"And you love me."

I dragged us both to a stop, spinning to face him so abruptly the toes of our shoes scuffed together. He was still smiling and his eyes still sparkled, but there was a hint of concern that I very nearly missed. Maybe he'd heard my brain turning earlier, as I'd worked through all the internal doubt about the truth of his feelings for me. Though I'd never doubted my own for him. Maybe he'd been running through the same one-sided conversation.

"And I love you," I confirmed.

Just like that, the worry was gone from his face and the feelings that had taken up residence in my chest doubled in size.

"I love you," I said again, dropping a kiss against the corner of his lips. His mouth was still salty from the gyro, swollen from all the kissing in the morning. The perfect pink pout that I wanted to lick and suck and defile for the rest of my days.

"I know," he whispered, dipping his chin to his chest. "I know, Mr. Sheffield."

"Not just that part of me," I said, shaking my head. "I love those things, those pieces…"

I trailed off, flattening my hand against his chest until it was over his heart, which battered violently against his sternum.

"The whole deal," I went on, flexing my fingers against the thick wool of his coat. "I'm all in with you, princess."

He covered my hand with his, an almost sad smile flickering on his face, because no matter what I said, we both knew that things were going to change the day after tomorrow whether we liked it or not. There was part of me that wanted Christian to go home and tell his whole family off, back his bags, and be back in my bed before sunrise, but I knew that was too much, too soon. There was also a part of me that wanted him to go home, stand up for himself, and then maybe when all was said and done, find his way back to me. The scenarios were opposing forces in my head, the pros and cons of each running a mile long. In that moment, I worried that what was best for me was not best for him, and I didn't know what it would look like to meet in the middle.

I also didn't think I wanted to meet in the middle.

I wanted everything.