The Extra's Rise

His lips left mine just as the last of my breath slipped away, leaving me gasping for air in the dimly lit room. Time seemed to stretch and contract simultaneously, the world narrowing to just the two of us.

I exhaled sharply, my chest rising and falling with each uneven breath, my head light from more than just the lack of oxygen. Through my hazy vision, I met Arthur's gaze—smug, unchallenged, and far too damn handsome for his own good. The faint light caught the sharp angles of his face, casting shadows that only enhanced his allure.

"Hmm," he mused, grinning down at me, one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly perfect way. "I thought you were confident, Princess?"

'Damn him.'

I swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of composure. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, my fingers twitching in his grip, betraying the effect he had on me. The cool silk of the couch beneath me contrasted with the heat radiating from where our bodies touched.

Because he had me pinned.

Our fingers interlocked, his weight holding me firmly in place, his presence everywhere—surrounding me, consuming me. The scent of his cologne mingled with something uniquely him, making it impossible to think clearly.

But this...

This was new.

A side of him I hadn't expected—hadn't even imagined in my most secret thoughts. The perfect, composed royal advisor was gone, replaced by something raw and unrestrained.

"It's only been thirty minutes, you know," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to make my stomach twist into a thousand knots.

His grip tightened slightly, just enough to send a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear. My breath caught as his eyes darkened, pupils dilating until there was just a thin ring of azure surrounding endless black.

"I'm not done with you yet."

Those six words hung in the air between us, weighted with promise. I sucked in a breath, my heart hammering against my ribs so loudly I was certain he could hear it. My mind scrambled for something—anything—to say that wouldn't reveal just how much power he held over me in that moment.

But all I could do was stare at him, transfixed.

This dominant side of Arthur... this was unexpected. And yet...

I found myself liking it.

A little too much.

The realization should have frightened me—I, who had spent my entire life fighting for control, for autonomy in a world that sought to dictate my every move. Instead, I felt myself melting into his touch, surrendering in a way I'd never allowed myself before.

"How do you feel?" Arthur's voice dipped low, husky with desire, his breath warm against my ear, sending an electric shiver down my spine that seemed to ignite every nerve ending along the way.

Before I could answer, his lips brushed my cheek—soft, teasing, deliberate. The ghost of a touch that promised more.

Our eyes locked. In that moment, I saw something shift in his gaze—vulnerability beneath the confidence, a question beneath the demand. He was giving me a choice, even now.

And I chose him.

My hand moved to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through the silken strands of his hair, pulling him closer.

And then— We kissed again.

This time, there was nothing tentative about it. His lips claimed mine with a hunger that matched my own, stealing my breath and my thoughts in equal measure. The world dissolved around us, reality narrowing to the points where our bodies connected.

Then— The door slid open with a soft whoosh.

Arthur shifted instantly, his body shielding mine from view, a protective gesture that sent a flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with our interrupted kiss.

"Get out. I'm busy." His tone was calm, almost indifferent—like he wasn't currently pinning a princess to a couch, his lips still tingling from mine, his hair mussed from my fingers. The steel in his voice left no room for argument or explanation.

Whoever it was didn't hesitate. The door shut again just as quickly as it had opened, followed by hurried footsteps receding down the hallway.

I exhaled sharply, suddenly aware of how this would look if word got out. My reputation, already the subject of endless court gossip, would be in tatters. "Who was that?"

"Some random noble," Arthur barely spared it a thought, dismissing the intrusion as inconsequential. His attention slid back to me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered—the only thing in the entire mansion worthy of his focus. "No one important."

I opened my mouth to say something—

"Focus on me," he murmured, cutting me off as he kissed me again. His fingers skimmed my jaw, tilting my head just enough to deepen it, to make me forget what I was about to say. His thumb traced the outline of my bottom lip, a gentle contrast to the intensity of his gaze.

When we finally broke apart, his lips curled into a taunting grin, eyes glittering with challenge and amusement.

"Didn't you say you wanted to get your lipstick all over me?" He raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping to that register that seemed to resonate directly with my pulse. "Is the princess chickening out now?"

A slow heat crept up my neck, spreading across my cheeks in what I knew was a telling blush. The reminder of my earlier boldness—my teasing promise made in a moment of daring—now returned as a challenge.

I narrowed my eyes before wrapping an arm around his neck, pulling him in close enough to feel his heart racing against mine. Two could play at this game.

"Chickening out?" I whispered against his lips, letting my breath mingle with his. "Do you think that's possible, Nightingale?"

The nickname—my private name for him, derived from the lullabies he used to sing when we were children—slipped out unbidden. Something flickered in his eyes—recognition, nostalgia, desire—before his expression settled into one of approval.

Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Good."

And then we kissed again. And again. And again.

Time blurred, the minutes melting into each other like watercolors on canvas. The world outside our alcove ceased to exist—the ball, the nobles, the political machinations, all of it faded to nothing.

By the time we finally stopped, I was breathless, my lips tingling and swollen, my body warm in a way that had nothing to do with the room temperature. My carefully styled hair had come partially undone, strands falling loosely around my face.

Arthur leaned back slightly, examining me with undisguised satisfaction before smirking. One hand remained at my waist, the other idly playing with a strand of my hair. "Well, one hour is up."

He dragged a lazy finger over my lips, his smirk widening as he surveyed his handiwork. "I think I ended up with more lipstick on me than you did."

My face flamed as I took in his appearance—at his completely ruined lips, the smudged red a stark contrast against his usual impeccable composure. His collar was askew, and there was a distinct mark just visible at the edge of his jawline.

"You were different," I muttered, smoothing my dress with trembling fingers.

Arthur exhaled through his nose, a soft sound somewhere between amusement and confession. "I can't control myself all the time around you four," he admitted, voice light but laced with meaning that ran deeper than the casual words suggested.

And somehow, that single sentence made my face heat even more. The admission that I—that we—could break through his carefully maintained control felt more intimate than the physical acts themselves.

"So you won't control yourself?" I asked, hearing the hopeful note in my voice and unable to disguise it.

"Not as much," he exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His expression softened, becoming more thoughtful. "I realized just how self-centered I had been. Sort of." A shadow of vulnerability crossed his face, gone almost before I could register it. "Anyway, I will be proper now, so continue to be mine."

His azure gaze dug into me as he caressed my cheek, his touch gentle now, reverent almost. The smile on his face made my heart race as I gulped, caught between the desire to maintain this intimacy and the awareness of our responsibilities waiting beyond the door.

Then I smiled, allowing myself this moment of honesty, of openness.

"I want that more than you," I said as I hugged him, breathing in his scent, committing this moment to memory. The solid warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart against my ear—a counterpoint to the chaos of my own emotions.

"I know," he said simply, the words rumbling through his chest. His arms tightened around me briefly before we both got up, the practical reality of our situation reasserting itself.

I glanced at the time on my phone, noting with surprise how much time had passed. "The event is probably about to end now," I said as he nodded, already straightening his clothing with practiced efficiency.

I turned toward the small mirror on the wall, assessing the damage. My lipstick was beyond salvation, my hair falling in loose waves where it had escaped its pins. I looked... thoroughly kissed.

Arthur appeared behind me in the reflection, his eyes meeting mine. The intensity in them made my breath catch all over again.

His fingers brushed mine, a brief touch filled with promise before he stepped back.

"After you, Princess."