This right here? This was a first for Alex, and he was coming to terms with the feeling of being so thoroughly devoured in the most sinfully exquisite way that he could have ever imagined. Actually, no, his imagination -- vivid and creative as it was -- could never have conjured up anything as sexy and perfect as Henry. The reality of the prince was a plunge into deep water where he no longer knew up from down and no longer cared.

He fell into a wanton rhythm of moving, forward to that hand, backwards towards that questing tongue.

Resting his forehead against the shower wall, he heard himself groan, the sound echoing around them both. Not even remotely fair. He'd never survive this in tact.