Falling For The Rebel Princess. Ellie Darkins
week? That his only good friends had spent most of that time trapped with him in some mode of transport or another for the last decade? It was hardly rousing stuff.
‘Do you want to go back there now, then?’ he asked Charlie.
How was this so difficult? Was she making it that way on purpose?
She looked down at her carry-on bag. ‘This is all I have with me.’
‘We can send someone for your stuff.’
‘No.’ She didn’t want anyone riffling through her things. Occasionally she missed the discreet staff from her childhood home in the private apartments of the palace, who had disappeared the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor before it had had a chance to become a proper teenage dive, but she loved the freedom of her home being truly private. That the leather jacket that she dropped by the door when she got home would still be right there when she was heading out the next morning.
She stopped walking and looked up at him. ‘Okay, so we go back to yours tonight. Tomorrow we go to my place and pack some stuff. Does that work for you? Or I could go back to my place tonight. Sleep there, if we don’t want to rush into—’
‘You sleep with me.’
He couldn’t explain the shot of old-fashioned possessiveness that he had felt when she suggested that they sleep apart. Except... The bed share of the previous night. That was a one-off, wasn’t it? He supposed they’d find out later, when she realised that his apartment’s second bedroom had been converted to a recording studio. Leaving them with one king-sized bed and one very stylish but supremely uncomfortable couch to fight over. He was many things, but chivalrous about sleeping arrangements wasn’t one of them. He couldn’t remember the last time that he had slept eight hours in a bed that wasn’t hurtling along a motorway or through the clouds. So he could promise her a chivalrous pillow barrier if she absolutely insisted, but there was no way he was forgoing his bed. Not even for her.
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