Erin's breathing had turned shallow, her body molded into his as if she belonged nowhere else. Xander's lips lingered against the curve of her neck, his tongue gliding over the sensitive skin he'd just claimed with a bite. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt where it stretched across his thighs, her knees trembling on the edge of the bed.
"Say it," he murmured against her skin, his voice husky, low, and demanding. "Say my name."
His breath was hot. His body, even hotter.
But just as she opened her mouth to whisper it, his touch stilled. His hands didn't trail higher. His lips stopped moving. He just… paused.
His forehead leaned against her shoulder. His arms slowly wrapped around her waist, holding her close — not to seduce, not to control, but to feel. To breathe her in.
She turned her head slightly, unsure. "Xander…?"
"I don't know what this is," he said, barely above a whisper. "But I'm losing my grip."
The words were so quiet, so vulnerable, it didn't feel like him. Not the arrogant CEO. Not the distant prince in disguise. It was the boy underneath. The boy she wasn't supposed to care for.
"I can't think straight when you're near me," he went on. "You smile at someone else and I hate it. You cry and I want to tear down the world until you stop. You lie, and it makes me want to claw past every wall you've built and find out what the hell you're hiding."
Erin's breath caught. She didn't mean to hold it, but her lungs froze under the weight of his honesty. His confession wasn't soft. It was raw. Almost angry. As if caring about her hurt.
"I don't know what you're doing to me," he whispered, and this time his voice cracked.
Her heart dropped.
He didn't ask her to explain herself. Didn't demand answers.
He just stayed there, arms around her waist, face buried against her neck like he needed to remember the scent of her skin just to keep sane.
And that was when Erin realized something terrifying: she didn't want to lie to him.
Not tonight.
Maybe not ever.
She turned in his arms slowly, her palms resting on his chest. His eyes met hers — open, vulnerable, unguarded in a way she'd never seen.
"I'm sorry," she said softly, her fingers brushing the spot just over his heart. "For making you feel like that."
He gave a short, bitter laugh. "You didn't make me feel. You just exist. And that's enough to wreck me."
Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her.
But this kiss wasn't hungry. It wasn't rushed or feverish. It was slow. Deep. Soul-searching.
His lips moved against hers as if he were trying to understand something about himself. As if she was the answer to a question he never knew he had.
And Erin… she kissed him back.
Without thinking. Without overanalyzing.
Because for once, she wasn't a princess on a mission or a spy with secrets.
She was just Erin. A girl falling too fast, too far.
When the kiss broke, they didn't speak. Their foreheads pressed together, their breathing tangled. Time slowed.
And then Xander said, "If I asked you not to lie… not just for three days, but for real… would you?"
Erin didn't answer right away.
She just stared at him, eyes wide with emotions she didn't have the courage to name. Her silence said enough.
So he didn't push.
Instead, he pulled her back into his chest, laid down with her still between his arms, and whispered against her hair, "Then I'll just make these three days count. And maybe… maybe by the end, I'll be too unforgettable to lie to."
Erin didn't move.
She didn't know whether to be afraid of how much he meant that… or how much a part of her already hoped he could.
The silence between them wasn't heavy. It was… warm.
Xander's heartbeat pulsed steadily beneath Erin's ear as she lay against his chest, the rise and fall of it grounding her more than she wanted to admit. His arms remained wrapped around her, not like a cage this time, but like a tether.
Her fingers were curled in the soft fabric of his shirt, yet she wasn't holding on out of tension. She just didn't want to let go.
His palm moved slowly up and down her back — not to initiate anything, not to push — but simply to remind her that he was there. His thumb traced the curve of her spine through her shirt, and though it was innocent, she felt it everywhere.
"You're still shaking," he murmured, his lips near her hairline.
"I'm not," she whispered, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her.
"You are." He smiled softly. "Do I scare you?"
"No," she answered too quickly, then hesitated. "Maybe a little."
"Why?"
"Because…" She buried her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent — a mix of something dark and clean, like warm spice and fresh rain. "Because I don't think I know what this is."
"This?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look at her. His hand gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"You and me," she clarified. "You're not supposed to matter."
That earned a quiet laugh from him — not mocking, not amused. More… sad.
"Too late for that," he said.
She looked at him, and for a moment, they just held each other's gaze.
And then slowly, Xander tilted her chin up with his knuckles and leaned in again — this time with purpose.
His lips found hers with more hunger now, more intention. The kiss wasn't desperate, but it was deeper. More demanding. He kissed her like a man who'd been starved for honesty, for closeness, for a truth he could actually hold.
Erin responded without hesitation. Her hands slid up to his chest, curling over his shoulders as her mouth opened to him. Their breaths tangled. Their lips molded.
His hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks, then slid down to her waist, lifting her gently and guiding her to straddle him. She gasped as her legs settled on either side of his hips, but he didn't press further. He just held her there, letting her get used to the nearness.
"This okay?" he murmured against her lips.
Erin nodded, and that was enough.
They kissed again.
Deeper. Slower.
One of his hands slid beneath the hem of her shirt, fingers spreading over the small of her back, his touch warm and possessive. Her skin burned under his palm, but not from embarrassment — from how right it felt.
"Why does this feel so…" she broke the kiss to breathe, "unreal?"
"Because we've both been lying to ourselves," he said hoarsely. "And this is the first time we're not."
She stilled at that.
For a moment, the weight of his words hung in the air.
She should've been thinking of her mission. Of her kingdom. Of the consequences. But all she could think of was his mouth. His eyes. His voice.
Him.
Xander pressed another kiss to her lips. Then her jaw. Then the base of her throat.
Every touch was slow, savoring.
Every kiss was a question.
And every one of her sighs… an answer.
When his hands started to roam up her back again, he paused just below her bra clasp, waiting. Erin hesitated — not out of fear, but choice.
She gently pulled back, her breath unsteady, her lips swollen. "Not tonight."
He didn't flinch. Didn't push.
He only nodded, brushed a kiss against her temple, and pulled her back into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Alright," he whispered. "But can I still hold you?"
Erin's chest ached. "You're already doing that."
He smiled. "I meant all night."
She hesitated only for a second. Then slowly, she laid her head against his chest again. "Yes."
They lay down like that — tangled in warmth, clothed and content, bodies close and hearts even closer.
And for the first time in a long time, neither of them had anything left to say.
They didn't need to.
Not when silence could say everything.