Page 3 of Risky Match (Royal Spies #1)

It’s so rare for me to be able to have such a candid conversation with anyone. Brianna and I have so many parallel, yet different experiences.

“Brianna, I can’t think of a better word than bittersweet. To be honest, If I hadn’t met you, I would have already left to mourn my loss.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve made it harder for you.”

Squeezing her shoulder and pulling her closer, I say, “You’ve done the exact opposite. You’re the best part of tonight.”

“I could say the same thing about you. Can I share a secret?” she asks as she rests her head against my chest.

“Absolutely.”

“I was looking for an excuse to leave too. My plan was to go back to my hotel suite and drown my regrets in a gigantic bowl of bacio gelato with a flute of champagne.”

“Great minds think alike. Escape was my answer. But what flavor is bacio?”

She pulls back, looking at me like I’m from outer space. “I can’t believe you’ve never had bacio gelato. You have to try it.”

“If I can find some, I will. The smile it puts on your face tells me I wouldn’t want to go through life without tasting it.”

She pushes back from me, exuding elation and excitement, saying, “I have the perfect idea. Come to my hotel suite. I could use the company. We’ll drown our sorrows in gelato and champagne and watch old movies.”

Is she really inviting me back to her hotel for ice cream? Her security detail will never let that happen.

“Are you serious?” I ask.

“Absolutely.”

She looks at me with such determination that I can’t question her motives or her intent.

Without hesitation, I say, “I can’t turn down an offer like that.”

“Excellent. We must be careful though. The last thing I need is the tabloids writing more stories about me. That means we can’t leave this dinner together. I’ll go with one of my guards. The other one will stay behind and arrange for you to meet me.”

A hint of jealousy burns through me, causing me to ask, “Do you arrange such clandestine meetings often?”

She looks at me in shock. “Never. But I’m tired of living by the rules all the time. I’d like to be naughty for just one night.

“You’re amazing. Let’s do this.”

“Okay. I’ll tell Oliver to find you in the ballroom.”

Forty-five minutes later, I stand outside Brianna’s hotel suite in somewhat of a daze.

I’m not sure what I’m doing here. Was her invitation for gelato nothing more than that or was it an unspoken request for more?

I’m assuming the former given that she was so direct in our interactions at the gala. Part of me hopes I’m wrong.

There’s something special about her. She’s like a siren beckoning me. There was no way I would have turned down her request, so I’m here.

I knock on the door. I wait.

As I raise my fist to knock again, Brianna opens the door, looking at me with what I sense is a combination of questioning and longing. Does she regret extending the invitation? Or is she also confused about the chemistry between us?

My thoughts are interrupted as she says, “Come in. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thanks.”

I walk into her spacious hotel suite. Taking in the expanse, most would consider this a luxury apartment with its marble floors, plush furnishings, and glass wall of windows overlooking the Thames.

My gaze quickly returns to Brianna though. I thought she was hot in her fancy clothes at the gala, but she’s even more inviting in her casual purple top and white cotton trousers.

“Let me have your jacket. I’ll hang it up, so you’ll be more comfortable for our movie night.

“Okay.”

She doesn’t take her eyes off me as I slip out of my tux coat and hand it to her. It’s as if she’s trying to figure out our connections as much as I am.

Taking my coat, she hangs it in the entry closet and says, “Take a seat on the sofa. I’ll get the gelato and champagne.”

I follow her instructions, sensing a tension in the air. The last thing I want to do is make her uncomfortable after we’ve shared such a bond over our similar situations tonight. But it’s as if we’re both nervous not knowing what to expect from each other. Does she want more as much as I do?

A couple of minutes later, she hands me an overflowing bowl of a luscious, frozen chocolate treat topped with fresh strawberries. She also sets a flute of champagne on the coffee table, saying, “Get ready to be blown away. The strawberries are the key to taking it over the top.”

I take a bite, and the flavors explode in my mouth.

“You weren’t kidding, the fresh strawberries with the chocolate are a definite winner. And I should have figured out that bacio means chocolate with hazelnuts. It’s like candy. Forgive me, but I was thrown off because I thought bacio meant kiss in Italian.”

“It does mean kiss . Don’t you think that this flavor combo is just like a wonderful kiss?”

I stare at her plump red lips trying to decide how to answer. I finally say, teasing, “The gelato is delicious, but certain kisses might be even better.”

“I guess they might, but for now, focus on the food. Take a bite of the gelato with a little bit of strawberry, and before you swallow, add a sip of champagne. It will definitely make you smile.”

“I’m already smiling,” I say, not sharing that one reason is the thought of actually kissing her gorgeous lips.

“See, I told you this was the perfect way to turn a sad evening into smiles. There’s a well-known chef in the U.S.

, who said no one can be miserable while eating a chocolate chip cookie.

I don’t think that’s an exact quote, but it’s something like that.

For me, I can’t be too sad when eating bacio gelato with fresh strawberries while sipping champagne. ” She laughs.

“Thanks for sharing your secret. It’s definitely turning this evening around for me.”

I lean toward her to give her a peck on the cheek as a thank you. But just as my lips are about to connect, she turns her head and our mouths collide. Neither of us pulls away. Instead, we both lean into the kiss.

Her lips are warm and sweet. I can’t resist a taste, letting my tongue gently slide across the seam of her mouth.

“Mmm. The chocolate and strawberries taste even better on you,” I whisper.

She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling us together again. This time I don’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. My breathing quickens as our tongues tangle and explore.

Wrapping my arms around her, I slide her across my lap so she’s straddling me. She snuggles into place as if we were made for each other.

“I can’t get close enough,” I moan while nibbling her earlobe.

“More. Please,” she begs.

“You’re killing me.” Taking a deep breath, I manage to ask, “Are you sure you want this? We can stop now.”

“I’m sure. Don’t. You. Dare. Stop.”

I let out the breath I was holding in anticipation of her answer.

“Can we get rid of this?” I ask, pulling on the hem of her T-shirt.

“Only if yours comes off too.”

She leans back and undoes my bow tie, slipping it from my neck and tossing it on the floor. Her fingers move down to the studs on my shirt, removing each one. A moment later, she frees my cufflinks and slips the shirt off my shoulders.

“Next time you change shirts during a match, I’ll remember this.” She glides her hands across my pecs and abs. “You’re pure perfection.”

“My turn,” I grin, lifting her shirt over her head. I can’t help staring reverently at her chest as I cup my hands over her amazing, perky breasts.

“You look pleased.”

I squeeze her breasts. “That’s an understatement. Who knew these were hiding under those tight sports bras you wear for tennis? I wish you were the one changing on the court. I’d be watching every single match you play.”

Leaning forward, I take one of her already hard nipples into my mouth. She’s rocking against my hardening cock and running her hands through my hair as I move my mouth to her other breast.

Rolling her to my right, I lay her back against the sofa, peeling off her trousers.

“You’re beautiful.”

“There’s a problem . . . I don’t have any condoms. Do you?”

“Shit. Hold on.”

I grab my wallet from my back pocket, hoping like hell that there’s one hiding in it.

I pull out two foil wrappers, holding them up and grinning like they’re winning lottery tickets.

“Get over here,” she says. Taking the condom from my hand, she reaches for my shorts.

“Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding,” she says seductively, reaching for my zipper.

I can’t stop gazing at this perfect woman as I help her strip off my shorts and boxer briefs in record time.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims.

“What?” I ask in confusion

“Umm. It’s . . . It’s so . . . big. It’s been a long time for me. And even then . . . ”

Feeling confident, I say, “Ohhh. Don’t worry. I’ll take it slow.”

She smiles and nods as I lean over her, parting her legs with my knee. She’s glistening and ready for me.

“Love, are you this wet for me?”

I barely insert my finger when she pumps her hips, needing more. I hold her still, then add a second one, and then a third, making sure she’ll be able to accommodate my size.

“Yes. It’s all for you. Quit teasing me. Please,” she moans.

“Princess, I just want this to last,” I say, pressing my mouth against hers as I remove my fingers and tease her entrance with my cock.

As our tongues tangle, I do my best to ease into her tight wetness as slowly as possible. It takes every trick in the book to keep me from losing it quickly. I’ve never felt this level of need and desire for any woman before.

Watching her face closely for any sign of discomfort, I slowly push deeper into her.

“Mmm, that’s soooo good,” she whispers between panting breaths.

That’s my signal to press fully in. I hold still, giving her time to adjust, but she begins moving her hips begging for more. I’m happy to give her everything she wants.

Slipping my hands under her, I lift her slightly as we move together.

“Yes, yes, that’s the spot. Don’t stop!” she screams.

Keeping our rhythm, I pump in and out of her tightness. She feels so good, it’s taking every last bit of my restraint to hold off my own pleasure. Needing her to let go first, I move my lips to her breast, letting my teeth graze her nipple as my hand reaches between us.

Circling her clit, I command, “Come for me, now.”

“Ohhh! Yesss!” She arches, letting go, pulsing hard against my cock.

With that, I’m no longer able to hold on as my orgasm releases with an intensity that’s beyond anything I’ve experienced before.

Collapsing on top of her, I quickly roll us onto our sides and hold her tight as we each recover.

Once our breathing evens out, I ask, “Where’s your bathroom?”

“In the bedroom. It’s on the left.”

After quickly disposing of the condom, I return with a warm wet cloth for Brianna.

I gaze at her, knowing that I’ll always remember the connection we had tonight.

“Are you okay? I hope that wasn’t too much for you,” I say.

“It was wonderful.”

I search her face, making sure she’s being honest with me.

The look on her face is mystifying. It’s one of contentment but confusion.

It’s as if neither of us knows what just happened.

It’s as if we’ve shared something more than sex.

We’ve shared an understanding of what it’s like to be different and have a need for something as simple as pleasure and compassion outside the public eye.

“Listen, this has been great, but I should go. You know this can’t be more, right?” I say with a hint of apology.

She squints her eyes in confusion. “Did I ask for more? My life doesn’t have room for a relationship any more than yours does.”

I’m stunned. That’s not the reaction I expected. Before I can respond, she shocks me again. “It’s good we’re in agreement. This was a one-time thing. Although I’m sure you’re eager to get going, it’s late, and we could both use some sleep. Would you like to stay until morning?”

I wasn’t expecting that invitation. With any other woman, I’d headed out the door, but more time with her is something I won’t turn down. She provides me with a sense of calm and comfort that I’ve rarely felt. If I could bottle this feeling, I would.

Those thoughts are too personal to share. Instead, I say, “If you want me here, I’m not going to leave.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when she says, “Stay then.” Her face relaxes, and her lips turn up in a soft smile.

It’s funny how happy she looks at the mere idea that I’ll be keeping her company tonight when she’s a princess that supposedly has everything she could ever want at her fingertips.

Her smile brings me satisfaction too and is all the encouragement I need.

I stand, slipping my arms underneath Brianna, and carry her to the bedroom.

Gently placing her on top of the silky sheets, I crawl into bed beside her and cradle her back against my front, relishing that we have a few more hours together.

Before closing my eyes, I whisper, “Rest, Love. It’s been a long day.”

“It has, but I’m not ready for it to be over yet. Did you happen to bring that other condom with you?”

I laugh. “I did. Should we save it for morning?”

“No. We’ll figure something else out then.”

“You really are perfect, aren’t you?”

“Quit talking and show me more of your masterful moves.”

“Your wish is my command.”

For the rest of the night, our limbs entangle as we explore each other. Fireworks explode like never before.

I can’t get enough of her.

Waking the next morning, there are only two problems. First, I lost Wimbledon. As wonderful as last night was, I still must come to terms with the loss. Second, we both know this will never happen again. For some reason, that bothers me more than it should.