Liam woke on top of Arik.
That was becoming a pattern, and he enjoyed it more and more as the days passed.
His first thought was that the room was too bright. His second was that every muscle in his body had apparently attended the engagement reception, the private ceremony, the public reception, the car, and then an entirely separate war during the night.
His third thought was that he felt magnificent.
Terrible, possibly.
But magnificent.
Arik was awake beneath him, one arm curved around his back, the other resting lazily over the sheets. His black hair was a disaster against the pillow, his mouth soft from sleep, his eyes half-lidded and golden in the morning light. He looked relaxed in a way Liam had not seen in weeks.
The prince was relaxed, sated, and far too pleased with himself.
Liam narrowed his eyes.
Arik's mouth curved before Liam said anything.
"No," Arik said, laugh touching his voice.
Liam stopped.
