Page 3 of Striking (Red Lips & White Lies #7)

An incredibly delicious form, might I add, book to the face notwithstanding.

I could have headed to one of the many empty rooms in the villa, alone, to find the peace I’m looking for, but this tiny woman has piqued my interest. She’s magnetic.

Which leads me to now—quite a few beers and a good amount of tequila later, sitting on a covered porch, listening to the rain as it lulls us under her spell.

Not that I’m complaining.

Why would I?

I’ve got a beautiful woman next to me with miles of tanned, toned, perfect skin on display and a raging hard on in my shorts as she giggles about something she just said to herself. Sober Bellamy might be quiet, but slightly sloshed Bellamy certainly isn’t.

It’s strangely relaxing .

Something I haven’t felt in months.

And I’m as hesitant to embrace that feeling as I am to let go of it.

“Rhys?”

I drag my eyes up Bellamy’s legs again. This time, they’re bent at the knees next to me as she digs her feet under my thigh.

It took her a few beers to loosen up and get chatty.

But once she did, she decided she doesn’t give one single shit that I’m the heir to the throne.

It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to say that about anyone.

.. and it’s fucking fantastic. She’s fantastic. ..

Leave it to Lennon to place this woman in my path.

That was probably her plan all along.

My little sister loves to give me shit about my love life, but I thought now that hers was stable, she’d let up. Guess I was wrong.

“Hellooo... Earth to Rhys...” Bellamy snickers at my silence. “Come on. It’s your turn to answer.”

Right. My turn.

According to her, when Americans are bored and stuck in a storm, they get drunk and play games. I can think of a far better way to spend the night, but somehow with her, this works. “Remind me what the question was, love.”

She giggles, and my cock jerks in my shorts.

Fuck . . .

“What exactly do you do for work? It’s not all ribbon cutting and speeches every day, is it?” She leans her head back against the couch, showcasing her inky black lashes and her dark hair splaying out behind her like a naughty halo.

Yup. I’m a goner. Fuck me .

“Hardly.” Although that sounds pretty good most days.

“Mornea is a constitutional monarchy. I work with my grandfather and Parliament in all areas of the government. It’s all boring rubbish, but it keeps me busy.

” She looks disappointed with my answer, so I drop my hand on her knee and squeeze.

Bad move. Her skin is soft, and my dick is hard.

Nothing good can come of this. When her eyes zero in on the contact, I squeeze again.

“But I do get to use the oversized scissors to cut the occasional ribbon or two.”

That perks Miss Wilder right up, bringing a beautiful smile to her delicate lips. Lips I can’t stop picturing wrapped around my cock. “Remind me, Bellamy, how old are you?”

“Twenty-six. Why?” She scrunches her eyes like she’s trying to do math but having a hard time. “How old are you?”

Christ. She’s so young.

I force my hand to stay put and not slide down her creamy thigh like my fingers are itching to do.

This is not a stranger.

This family means something to my sister.

My sister, who’s been yelling at me for fucking my way through Mornea since we lost our mother.

“Too old,” I groan.

“How old is too old?” She nibbles her lip and bats those lashes again.

My thumb traces circles on her knee. “Thirty-three.”

“Damn,” she giggles again and finishes her beer. “You’re practically an old man. Do you need a cane to help you walk?”

Before I can answer, a bolt of lightning flashes behind us, and a tree cracks.

Bellamy practically jumps out of her skin and her bikini as she jolts up and into my side.

Her perfect breasts are pushed up in the tiny halter top tied behind her neck, and I swear to everything holy in this entire bloody world, I’m going to hell because all I want to do is untie that perfect pink bow.

My finger slides slowly along the soft skin on her shoulder and dips down her spine, sending a shiver over her skin.

This woman is young.

Too young.

She’s also my sister’s friend and an American, for fuck’s sake.

So why does her skin feel like the sweetest sin I’ve ever touched?

“Rhys...” Bellamy tilts her head up, and eyes the color of spiced caramel lock on mine. And whatever she sees there has her breath catching in her throat.

“This is such a bad idea, little bee...” I murmur as my finger plays with her bow. One tug is all it would take. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

My voice sounds harsh. Desperate .

It sounds like barely held control.

Control that’s fraying.

Control I never release my hold on.

She pulls her plump bottom lip between her teeth, and I swear my cock weeps in my shorts. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”

Fucking hell.

I slide my hand to her face and pull her toward me. If I’m going to hell, I’m making sure we both enjoy ourselves before they open the gates.

“Excuse me, Your Royal Highness?—”

Pretty sure they won’t be calling me Your Royal Highness in hell.

Or maybe they will . . .

Bellamy drops her forehead to mine, and all I’d have to do is lean the slightest bit forward to taste her cherry-stained lips. But I don’t. I wrap my hand around the back of her head and hold her there for a moment, breathing her in before we break this insane connection. “Yes, Vaughn?”

If this man hadn’t been the head of my royal protection team for a fucking decade, I’d have him fired for interrupting us.

“The Wilder family was able to dock on the other side of the island. Your guests are being driven back as we speak. I was asked to let you know.”

“Thank you,” I offer before he nods and walks away.

Not exactly my guests when I didn’t even know they were here.

Bellamy rises from the couch on shaky legs. “I guess we better clean this mess up.”

“Leave it. The staff will get it,” I tell her, not sure where to go from here.

“Umm... You might be Your Royal Highness, but my mother raised me to clean up my own mess.” She grabs the empty beer bottles and the half empty bottle of tequila. “So I’m just going to take care of it myself.”

“Bellamy...” I groan, feeling like a complete ass.

“Stop, Rhys...” She doesn’t sound sure, but those two words are the only two she ever has to say. “You said if I told you to stop, you would.”

That I did, love.

That I did.

She turns away, shattering what’s left of our connection and takes a step toward the beach. “Look. It stopped raining, and there’s a rainbow... It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah... it is.” She’ll never know I was looking at her, not the ocean.