Chapter 17
Harald
"Daniel, I'm so sorry," I start, my voice unsteady. "I shouldn't have—"
I don't finish my sentence because suddenly Daniel launches himself at me, his arms wrapping around my neck as his body collides with mine. For a split second I think he's attacking me—until I feel his lips crash against mine with bruising intensity.
He kisses me with a desperate hunger, his hands gripping my hair, my shoulders, my back. I respond instinctively, my arms encircling his waist and pulling him closer. The taste of him—salt air and ice cream and something uniquely Daniel—floods my senses.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard. Daniel's eyes are liquid fire, his pupils blown wide with desire.
"Thank you," he whispers against my mouth, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "Nobody's ever stood up for me like that."
"I was afraid I'd frightened you," I admit, searching his face. "I don't usually... I've never actually punched someone outside of training before."
Daniel laughs, a sound of pure delight. "Frightened me? Harald, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life." He presses another kiss to my lips, gentler this time. "You defended me. You made him stop."
His hand slides down to rest against my chest, right over my thundering heart. "Nobody's ever cared enough to protect me before."
The vulnerability in his voice breaks something open inside me. I cup his face in my hands, brushing my thumbs across his cheekbones.
"I will always protect you," I promise, the words carrying more weight than he can possibly know. It's a vow not just from a man, but from a prince.
Daniel smiles up at me, his eyes shining. "My hero," he murmurs, and there's no mockery in it, only wonder.
"That's all I want to do from now on."
Daniel leans forward, and I feel his lips meet mine again, but this time there's something different—a hunger, an urgency that wasn't there before.
His hands cradle my face, then slide into my hair, pulling me closer with a need that makes my breath catch.
The gentle exploration of our previous kisses transforms into something more primal, more desperate.
I respond instinctively, my arms tightening around his waist as I pull him against me, eliminating what little space remained between us.
The heat of his body pressed against mine sends electricity racing through my veins.
My royal training—years of restraint and proper decorum—dissolves beneath the fire of Daniel's touch.
His teeth graze my bottom lip, a gentle nip that draws a surprised sound from my throat.
Then his tongue slides against mine, deepening the kiss as his fingers tangle in my hair.
I've never been kissed like this—like I'm essential, like I'm something precious and desired for myself alone, not for my title or my position.
"Harry," he breathes against my mouth, the word half-plea, half-prayer.
I'm dimly aware that we're still standing on the boardwalk, that there are people around us, that everyone is probably watching us nearby, horrified at this public display.
But I can't bring myself to care. For once in my life, I'm not thinking about consequences or appearances or duty.
I'm simply feeling—Daniel's hands in my hair, his chest against mine, his heartbeat matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
His kisses grow more insistent, more demanding.
One of his hands slides down my back, pulling me impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss further.
I feel myself respond, a low sound escaping me as my fingers press into his hips.
There's something liberating about this moment—about being wanted so openly, so honestly by someone who has no idea of my royal status.
Daniel wants just me, Harald the man, not Harald the Crown Prince.
I'm lost in Daniel's burning gaze when he suddenly grabs my wrist, tugging me away from the boardwalk with urgent purpose.
"We need to get out of here. Now," Daniel says, his voice thick with desire. He's practically dragging me toward the main street, his grip firm and insistent. My body follows automatically, pulse racing as I struggle to keep pace with him.
"Where are we—" I start to ask, but Daniel cuts me off with a look that steals my breath.
"How far is your hotel?" he demands, his eyes dark with intention. He flags down an approaching taxi with his free hand, never loosening his grip on me.
"About twenty minutes," I manage to say as the yellow cab pulls to the curb. "Midtown. The Peninsula."
Daniel yanks open the door and practically shoves me inside before sliding in beside me. He gives the driver the address, then turns to me with a fierce intensity that makes my stomach drop.
"I know I said I have rules about this," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
"Second date, no sleeping together on that one too, all that.
.." His hand finds mine in the space between us, our fingers interlacing with a desperate strength.
"But after what just happened? Those rules are officially broken. "
I swallow hard, feeling heat crawl up my neck. "Are you sure?"
The taxi pulls away from the curb, and Daniel shifts closer, his thigh pressing against mine.
"Very sure," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear.
"The way you stood up for me back there.
.." His free hand moves to my knee, squeezing gently.
"I need you. Right now. Hotel room. As soon as humanly possible. "
The certainty in his voice, the raw want in his eyes—it's intoxicating. No one has ever looked at me like this before, like I'm essential, like I'm worth breaking rules for.
"Twenty minutes," I repeat, my voice rough with anticipation.
Daniel's fingers tighten around mine. "That's nineteen minutes too many."
I stare at Daniel's lips, already missing their warmth against mine. Something primal stirs in me as I watch him unbuckle his seat belt and mine with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving mine. The click of the release echoes in the small space of the taxi.
"What are you—" I begin, but my words dissolve into a sharp intake of breath as Daniel shifts across the seat and slides onto my lap in one fluid motion. His knees bracket my hips, his weight settling against me as he takes my face in his hands.
"I can't wait nineteen minutes," he murmurs, before capturing my mouth with his.
Daniel's body melds against mine, his scorching heat searing my very soul.
His fingers entwine themselves in my hair, tugging just enough to send shivers of exquisite pleasure cascading down my spine.
I grip his hips, digging my nails into his firm, toned ass, desperate to bring him even closer as our throbbing lengths meet and grind together through the thing fabric of our pants.
Each slick, electric friction between us sends a delicious avalanche of sensation crashing through me, obliterating all thought and reason.
All that remains is the intoxicating heat of his skin against mine and the need to possess him completely.
"Hey! HEY!" The taxi driver's voice cuts through the haze of desire. "This ain't that kind of cab! Save it for the hotel!"
Daniel reluctantly breaks the kiss, his heated breath ghosting against my lips as we both struggle to catch our breath. I can feel his frustration—a palpable, primal ache that matches my own—as we yearn to be closer, to feel every inch of each other's bodies.
Without thinking, I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. Royal instinct takes over—problems have solutions, and sometimes those solutions are monetary.
"Two hundred and fifty dollars if you just drive and ignore us," I say, my voice rough with desire as I hold up the bills.
The driver's eyes widen in the rearview mirror, darting between the money and us. For a moment, I think he might refuse—might throw us out of his cab for the impropriety.
Then he snatches the bills from my hand, tucks them into his shirt pocket, and adjusts his mirror so he can no longer see the backseat.
"Fifteen minutes to the Peninsula," he announces, then cranks up the radio to an almost deafening volume.
Daniel's wicked, triumphant smile sends a shiver down my spine. "Resourceful," he purrates against my lips. "I've always had a weakness for resourceful men."
His mouth claims mine once more, hungrier this time, as if the knowledge of our stolen privacy has lit a fire within him.
My hands slip under the hem of his shirt, fingertips trailing along the hot, slick skin of his lower back.
He arches into my touch with a needy moan, his hips grinding against mine in silent invitation.
"I want you," I groan into his ear between kisses, unable to keep the desire from my voice any longer. "I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you."
Daniel's hips roll against mine, creating a delicious friction that sets every nerve ending in my body on fire. His lips brush my ear, his breath hot and heavy against my skin. "Harry," he moans, his voice ragged with need, "I need you so badly I can't even think straight."
The sound of my name—my nickname, not my title—on his lips sends a wave of heat through me. This isn't about the Crown Prince of Denmark. This is just about us—Harald and Daniel—two people consumed by desire.
"I've been aching for this since that first call," Daniel whispers, his fingers tightening in my hair. His confession sends my heart racing even faster. "I've wanted you, Harry. God, I've wanted you so much."
My hands trail up his back, sliding under his shirt to explore the contours of his heated skin. His flesh is impossibly soft, like silk against my fingertips. Each touch elicits a breathy moan or whimper from him—sounds that I yearn to capture with my lips, sounds I want to etch into my memory.
"I've wanted you too," I breathe against his ear, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. "Thought about this more than I should admit."