Page 22 of Royal Trouble
“Can you manage the rest of the way on your own?” she asked, pulling her hand away slowly.
He could. He’d come home pissed more times than he could remember, but saying yes also meant saying goodbye to Everly, and he wasn’t ready to end their fun.
“I could use an escort.” He flashed a wicked smile. “Besides, your car will be a few minutes. Why don’t you come in for a drink?”
“The last thing you need is another drink,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Unless, of course, it’s a tall glass of water.”
Despite her protests, Everly threw the car door open and followed him into the house.
“Welcome to Primrose Cottage,” he said, opening the door wide so she could pass through. She brushed past him, the scent of lavender and lemongrass wafting from her hair, reminding him of summers in the country.
“You don’t lock your front door?” she asked, stepping aside as he joined her in the modest foyer.
“Why would I? The palace grounds are well secured.” He led her down the hall, bypassing the sitting room and heading straight for the recently renovated kitchen. Everly was right about that glass of water. He was parched, and his mouth was starting to feel dry and gritty.
He opened the fridge and surveyed the contents. There were several kinds of water, juice, and smoothies, as well as a drawer full of fresh produce. The housekeeper must’ve delivered groceries while he’d been out.
“What can I get for you?” he called over his shoulder.
“Just some water would be great.”
He grabbed two bottles of water and offered one to Everly, joining her at the window. She twisted the top off her water bottle and took a long pull, tipping her head back so that her hair cascaded over her shoulders. He watched, unable to look away as the muscles of her throat flexed and rippled.
Who knew this woman’s throat could be so fucking sexy?
When she was done, the tip of her tongue darted out to lick the moisture from her lips. His cock swelled with desire, and it was all he could do not to groan aloud. He adjusted his stance and opened his own bottle then drank half of it in one long pull.
Christ. He was acting like a bloody twat.
Since when did he hesitate to go after what he wanted? He was the bad boy of the royal family, for fuck’s sake. If he was attracted to a woman, he acted. It was that simple. He didn’t stop to worry about royal protocol or repercussions. So what was it about Everly that made him hesitate?
Probably the fact that she didn’t throw herself at him like the women he normally fucked.
“You should finish that,” she said, gesturing to his half empty bottle of water. “You’re going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”
“No thanks to you.” Not that he was complaining. If a hangover was the price of her company, he’d gladly pay it, because despite getting his arse kicked by her, he’d enjoyed himself thoroughly. “Where’d you learn to throw darts like that?”
“I spent a lot of time hanging out in dive bars when I first moved to New York.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know anyone, and I was trying to figure out who I was outside the Valerian court. Unlike some people,” she said, poking him in the chest and sending a bolt of white-hot need straight to his balls, “I didn’t have the Royal Military Academy to whip me into shape and mold me into a model of discipline.”
She smirked and looked up at him with a challenge in her eyes.
Fuck it. She was flirting with him, and he was going for it. Damn the consequences.
He might be on the road to recovery, but he wasn’t a fucking saint.
“You still believe I lack discipline?” He took a step toward her and pulled the water bottle from her hands then set it on the island along with his own.
Their eyes locked, and the moment stretched between them like a rubber band about to snap. Her chest rose and fell, the hem of her tiny crop top giving him flashes of the creamy skin he’d been fantasizing about all afternoon. The need to touch her burned like wildfire through his veins.
“Discipline is the only thing keeping me from claiming that sexy little mouth of yours right now. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon. Imagining how your lips would taste. Wondering how we’d fit together.”
“Oh.” Her lips formed a perfect O, as if the bloody universe were testing his restraint.
“I’ll bet you’ve been thinking about it, too, haven’t you, Evie?”
She swallowed, her throat bobbing delicately. “No—no one calls me that.”
“MayI?” She gave a slow nod, and a sense of satisfaction washed over him. “You still haven’t answered my question. Have you thought about my lips on your body, Evie?”