Page 6 of Royally Drawn (Resplendent Royals #3)

Unavoidable

INGRID

S haking off my funk after the Plank Incident, I steered clear of Duncan and hung out with my girls instead. Dresses were short, makeup was dark, and we all tried to look as utterly scandalous as possible. Our Caribbean holiday presented a rare opportunity to, as Leah said, “slut it up.” With no photographers bothering us, we lived like normies.

Betty and I ran into some boys visiting Aruba from their posh American university on spring break. They had darling accents and were not afraid to flirt. Dancing just to dance was fun. Dancing and being the object of someone’s desire was better. Best of all, it was dancing while being desired by a gorgeous, fit man who would buy you drinks and fawn over you forever.

If there was one thing about the trip I could not complain about, it was the eye candy. Everywhere I looked, there was a fit man. I swam in a sea of beautiful men. My transition from a Catholic private school for girls to showing horses with a troop of women was acceptable, if not predictable. Here, I was like a kid in a sweets shop.

Back on the boat, the chaos continued. We arrived before the men did, but all bets were off once they did. Leah was the table-dancing live wire. She’d led the charge all night, dancing and acting like an idiot.

I wished I had her confidence, if nothing else. She got Duncan and Ollie on their feet. I soon tired of our fun but silly dance, slipping away to the bar just off the main deck, where I ran into Keir.

“I’m making mojitos. You want one?” He gestured to his supplies.

“Sure.”

I had no idea what a mojito was, but I was drunk, no longer annoyed with him, and appreciating the way his shirt emphasised his incredible shoulders. Even his shoulders did things to me! I wondered what it might be like to wrap my arms around them. Where did that come from?

“You didn’t bring any boys back?” Keir asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Why, you worried about competition?”

“Not at all.”

“I gave an American my number. Might see him tomorrow.”

Keir raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why waste your time?”

“He was fit and a good kisser.”

“Do you even know what that means?”

I scoffed. “You don’t think I know good kissing from bad?”

“What is your sample size, Ingrid?”

I scowled at him. Why did he need to make me feel bad about my lack of experience?

I’d kissed a few boys. The first was a kid from a neighbouring school who I asked to a class social. His kiss was so wet it reminded me of the slobber from a snaffle bit after hours of working on impulsion drills with my dressage coach. The other was a boy I met at a charity event. I only saw him a couple of times before I was on the road too much.

“You don’t know me well enough to judge.”

“I know your sister,” Keir said. “And she’s not wild. Astrid is opinionated, direct, and clever. However, she and Parker are like old married people. Sheltered is how I would label you. But you could learn.”

I shook my head. “Sheltered is not me! Alexandra and Astrid were, but I had the most freedom of the four of us. You know nothing about me.”

I may have been a virgin and inexperienced, but I knew what felt good. He was being an ass.

“Okay, you’re right. For the record, I am not doubting your ability to kiss properly. I am wondering what you deem a good kiss.”

I blushed. “You cannot say I know nothing and imply I am a good kisser.”

Keir passed me a clear drink garnished with a lime wedge. “No. But you have full lips, and I would bet any money you’re fun.”

The flushing on my face only heightened. I sipped the drink to avoid thinking about his lips pressed against mine. I tried not to want to find out. It made me tingle to think about—an impulse I’d felt earlier with the American now heightened by Keir’s continued flirtation.

“What is a good kiss, Ingrid?”

I stirred my drink. “This is very good, by the way.”

“Oh, she sidesteps the question.”

“No, I… I think it’s about a slow start, then pressure, then just a bit of tongue. And then you ramp it up… more. But it’s not overly forced or intense. It should tease you a bit,” I said. “And not wet like you just got rained on.”

“No, but perhaps it should make you wet like you wouldn’t believe if someone does it right.”

Was he saying what I thought he was? If so, he was vastly overstepping. Either way, I had no words. It made me feel all sorts of things. I got wetter just thinking about him.

“Did you make that for someone?” I gestured to the second drink on the bar, which was now unclaimed.

“Oh, um, yes. Nate,” Keir answered.

“We should get back.”

Keir nodded, nodding that I should lead the way out. I gathered it was so he could look at my ass. And yet, I didn’t much mind. Whether it was the drink or my lack of sexual fulfilment, I gave over to this unavoidable desire to have him lust after me. He could chase me if he wanted. It would only please me more. Whether I gave in was my decision alone.