Page 23 of Royal Trouble
“Yes.”
Thank Christ. It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.
In a breath, he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. Despite the snarky façade she showed the world, Everly was soft and warm in his arms, and he could feel her heart racing, matching the reckless beat of his own. He lowered his mouth to hers, brushing her lips gently at first, determined to explore every curve and seam. When she gasped, instinct took over, and he hoisted her onto the counter, wedging himself between her bare thighs.
So much for discipline.
Their mouths crashed together, a desperate mating of lips and tongues and roving hands. She tasted like lager and strawberry mints, and her lips were as soft as flower petals. He groaned as she took his lower lip between her teeth. Then he was tangling his fingers in her hair, angling her chin to take the kiss deeper.
“Fuck, Evie. You’re even sweeter than I imagined.”
He’d known they had chemistry, but he hadn’t expected it to be quite so…combustible. He stroked her thighs, savoring the feel of her hot flesh. It was fucking torture. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? He grabbed her hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter so she could feel the hard press of his erection. He was so fucking hard it was a wonder the zipper on his breeches didn’t split.
She whimpered and rolled her hips, rubbing herself against his full length. “Xander, I—”
Knock! Knock!
Everly froze, and the rest of the sentence died on her lips.
He dropped his forehead to hers, disappointment singing through his veins.
Un-fucking-believable. Cock blocked by his own driver.
The Heir vs. The Spare
It’s that time of year again. You know, when the rich and fabulous congregate for the King’s Might Royal Charity Polo Day. Look, we know what you’re thinking. It sounds like a total snoozefest, and the outcome’s predictable (spoiler alert: HRH Prince William and the Valerian Might always win), but trust us, there’s nothing hotter than seeing a bunch of sweaty dudes on horseback tearing up the field.
This year’s match was no exception, and we have to admit we enjoyed watching the heir and the spare face off. Because it’s tradition…and because we like a testosterone-fueled grudge match as much as anyone. (Seriously, throw in some washboard abs and we’re there.)
But back to the game…hot royals, tight white breeches, and a David and Goliath matchup. What’s not to like?
And just in case you’ve been living under a rock and haven’t heard, against all odds, the Golden Falcons, led by HRH Prince Alexander, upset the Valerian Might. Yes, you read that correctly. The spare spanked the heir in an unprecedented defeat. (We doubt HRH Prince William will be sitting right for a week.)
Speaking of spanking, sign us up. We know a good time when we see it, and if HRH Prince Alexander wants to put us over his knee, we’re all in.
Did we mention the match raises millions for royally sponsored charities? (You know, if that’s more your thing.)
Chapter Six
It had been four days since Everly’s last visit to the palace. Four days of fortifying herself for the bridal luncheon to honor Prince William and Elena in the palace gardens. It wasn’t nearly enough time. Her heart leaped into her throat as the palace valet drove off with her rental car. No turning back now. Nope. She was a grown-ass woman, and she was doing this, whether she liked it or not.
This is what happens when you cross professional boundaries and kiss cocky royals.
The worst part? She’d liked it. Okay, more than liked it. She’d wanted to scale Xander like a mountain and devour his face. But only for a minute. Thankfully, they’d been interrupted by his driver, who’d unwittingly prevented her from trading her ethics for orgasms.
Today would be different, though. She was focused on the job, and she wasn’t going to cross the line again. That was exactly how her mother had gotten sucked into this toxic world, and all it brought her was heartache. Everly would not make the same mistake.
Especially with the royal spare.
Steeling her resolve, she straightened her spine and closed her eyes. She was an independent woman, and she could do this. Shewoulddo it. For her mom. When she opened her eyes, it was as if she were seeing the Royal Palace of Valeria for the first time.
Growing up, her vision had been clouded by the spite and vitriol of the court. The deception and hostility. The endless power struggles and machinations. But today, with the sun warming her skin and birdsong on the air, she could appreciate its beauty.
The limestone palace stood tall and proud, a testament to Valeria’s prosperity and might with its sleek pillars, arched windows, and ornately carved pediment. Across the drive, a grand three-tier fountain paid homage to the Valerian falcon, the gilded bird appearing to swoop down on its prey with its wings spread wide as channels of water shot up in the air all around it. It was impressive, if not ostentatious, and she committed the sights and sounds to memory, telling herself it would help set the stage for her article.
She silenced her phone and tucked it inside her clutch. Xander had texted her a few times since the polo match, but she’d managed to stay strong. She hadn’t responded to a single message. With any luck he’d think she went home.
Yeah, and next week you’re totally going to win the Powerball.