Page 29 of Royal Trouble

Americans didn’t give a damn about Valerian courtiers, but they were heavily invested in the royal family, especially the sexy heir and the roguish spare. And there was no way in hell she could get close to Prince William—who’d always been squeaky clean—which meant Xander was her only hope.

He moved around the small table, closing in on her like a lion stalking its prey. His movements were slow and measured. Graceful. Dangerous. Oh, so tempting.

Why couldn’t her hormones glom onto the footman or a bodyguard or literally anyone who wasn’t a member of the royal family?

Because that would be too easy. And nothing in her life came easily.

It didn’t help that Xander was charming, funny, and yes, annoyingly arrogant in an oddly endearing way.

Shit. The guy was literally growing on her like mold.

The sexy kind, if that was even a thing.

She looked him over, taking in the predatory eyes, unruly blond hair, and full-lipped grin.

Yep. Definitely a thing.

She inched back, but still, words wouldn’t come. Her brain was screaming at her to walk away, but her feet were cemented to the stone floor. She wanted to feel the press of Xander’s lips on hers, to feel the heat of his skin searing her own, to feel the hardness of his cock gliding over her tender flesh just like it had that night at the cottage.

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to satisfy the arousal that was growing more insistent by the second.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She couldn’t do this. It was wrong on so many levels.

But damn if it didn’t feel right.

“You have chocolate on your fingers.” He took her right hand in his, and a shiver raced up her spine as he held it up for inspection. “May I?”

She nodded. Where was he going to get a napkin? The banquet room he’d shown her during the tour had been all gilded candelabras and high-backed chairs, not a linen in sight.

Xander lifted her hand to his mouth and, keeping his gaze locked on hers, took the tip of her pointer finger between his lips and sucked the chocolate right off. His mouth was hot and wet, and though they were both fully clothed, it was the single most erotic moment of her life.

Sweet baby Jesus.

“I’ll bet your pussy tastes even sweeter.”

Oh, wow. She’d read about dirty talkers—of course she had—but she’d never actually dated one. Or even hooked up with one for that matter.

How the hell had she made it to twenty-six without realizing words could be just as effective at turning her on as a vibrator?

Because, yeah, Xander had just flipped her switch to theveryturned on position.

A wave of desire crashed over her, washing away all the reasons a royal hookup was a terrible idea and leaving only white hot need in its wake.

Xander watched her, eyes churning with the kind of desire that would give any woman’s self-confidence a ten-point boost.

“Kiss me and find out.”

His grin widened, and he closed the space between them, pressing her back to the cool stone wall. In the dim light, his eyes sparkled like blue topaz, and she wanted to drown herself in their depths, if only for an afternoon. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He lowered his mouth to hers slowly, but there was nothing tender about the way he devoured her lips, their mouths crashing together with enough heat to set the whole cellar ablaze. She melted against him, losing herself in the kiss as need coiled low in her belly, demanding release.

It was wrong. She knew it from the tips of her fuchsia toenails to the top of her fascinator, but her moral compass had clearly taken the afternoon off, because she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not when Xander was offering a much-needed distraction from the scene on the lawn. Not when he clearly needed this as much as she did, a distraction from the pressure and the press.

Oh, he pretended none of it bothered him, but she’d seen past the façade, hadn’t she? Despite the titles and the privilege, they were two of a kind.