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TEAM: A MENAGE
ROMANCE
SABRINA PAIGE
CONTENTS
Double Team: A Menage Romance
1.
Authors Note
2. Grace
3. Grace
4. Aiden
5. Grace
6. Grace
7. Noah
8. Grace
9. Noah
10. Grace
11. Aiden
12. Grace
13. Noah
14. Grace
15. Aiden
16. Noah
17. Grace
18. Noah
19. Grace
20. Aiden
21. Noah
22. Grace
23. Aiden
24. Noah
25. Grace
26. Aiden
27. Noah
28. Grace
29. Aiden
30. Noah
31. Grace
32. Grace
33. Aiden
34. Noah
35. Grace
36. Aiden
37. Noah
38. Grace
39. Grace
40. Aiden
41. Grace
42. Noah
43. Grace
44. Grace
45. Aiden
46. Grace
47. Noah
48. Aiden
49. Grace
Epilogue
Prince Albert
Synopsis
Authors Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
What Im working on
Also by Sabrina Paige
About the Author
Acknowledgments
The Presidents daughter. Two professional athletes. One giant scandal. They'll
show her that two bad boys are better than one.
I can't stand arrogant bad boys - especially not when they're my loud, obnoxious
new next-door neighbors. Not even when they come in muscled, tattooed, toohot-for-their-own-good packages.
I'm a good girl - successful, responsible, and smart. I have to be - the eyes of the
nation are on me.
I'm the daughter of the President of the United States.
Dating a filthy, cocky, possessive football player would be the ultimate scandal.
Falling in love with TWO arrogant athletes in the middle of my father's re-election
campaign?
That would be another thing entirely.
Im twice as screwed.
AUTHORS NOTE
T his is a MFM mnage romance! So if you're not into the idea of two hot athletes
falling head over heels for one girl, then take a pass on this one!
THERE ARE NO M/M scenes this is all about the woman. And this book gets pretty
raunchy, so if lots and lots of explicit smut scenes arent your thing well, youve
been warned.
THERES BASICALLY no football in here, either. But lets be real - are you reading one of
my books for the football? ;)
IVE INCLUDED a copy of Prince Albert, my royal romance (yes, hes named after the
piercing for a reason) AND at the end Ive included a sneak peak of the book Im
working on now Her Bodyguard which is the follow-up to Prince Albert and
tells Max and Alexs story!
BOTH OF THESE are full-length novels, and Double Team weighs in at 100k words, so
itll end around 55% on your Kindle, if youre trying to keep track of the pacing.
Prince Albert will end around 98%, and youll find the excerpt to Her Bodyguard at
99%. All of them are marked in the table of contents so you can easily find them.
ENJOY!
SABRINA
GRACE
of politicians and world leaders would rein her in. Do you want to know what's
wilder than a boarding school full of the bored children of wealthy and powerful
parents?
Answer: absolutely nothing.
Vi is the exact opposite of someone I "should" be friends with, per my parents,
who are very concerned with that sort of thing ("You have standards to uphold,
Grace," my father reminds me sternly every time I see him), but the fact is, Vi and I
were friends long before Switzerland. We were an unlikely pair total opposites
thrust together in solidarity as children in the limelight when my father was
Governor of Colorado and Vi's was Lieutenant Governor.
"I'm monogamous currently." Vi laughs. "Well, mostly." Vi's flavor of the
month is a professional snowboarder whose name I can't remember.
"You're a paragon of virtue. But wouldn't glow-in-the-dark lube look like a
scene out of CSI?" I wonder.
Vi snorts. "That's both true and repulsive."
"I'm not the one who ordered glow-in-the-dark condoms and lube," I argue,
squatting down to read the address label on the box. "Mr. Dick Balsac is."
Vi cackles. "Please tell me you'll deliver that box to your neighbor personally."
"Or I could have it redelivered to the correct address," I suggest.
"It's right next door!" Vi shouts. "And you haven't met your new neighbor."
"I don't need to meet my neighbor," I protest. "I've already heard him quite
enough, thank you very much." He moved in just last week and already I've heard
enough loud music and splashing in the pool than any one person should have to
endure. I swear the other night I heard him playing bongos. Who plays bongos
other than Matthew McConaughey??
Vi snickers. "Yeah, you told me about the bongos. Don't you want to see if he
plays them naked?"
I make a gagging sound. "Yeah, I want to see if my new next door neighbor, Dick
Balsac, inflatable sex doll connoisseur, plays naked bongos in his backyard."
"You know the blow-up dolls are a prank. Dick Balsac is the fakest name ever."
"What if it isn't?" I take a sip of my wine and almost choke because I start
giggling so hard at the thought. "What if that is his real, actual name?"
"Then you have to meet him. Why don't we just look up online who bought the
house? Maybe he's hot."
"Yeah, right." I snort. I purchased my house in this quiet, off-the-grid historical
neighborhood specifically because it was filled with retired professors and older
business people. It's the most uncool neighborhood ever - which means that it's
really private and people leave me alone. And that's exactly what you need when
your father is the President and he's in the middle of a reelection campaign.
Even if he is the incumbent candidate, reporters are still interested in digging up
anything salacious they can on my conservative father, whose campaign is laserfocused on family values. That means that I'm under the microscope almost as
much as he is, so this out-of-the-way neighborhood was the best place in Denver
lug a box of blow-up dolls around. Or maybe I shouldn't have had that second glass
of wine. Probably the latter.
"Would you like some help, maam?" Brooks asks.
I peer around the large box as I walk. "Hey, do you remember that time when my
father insisted that I have a security detail and I agreed, but only on the condition
that my detail not interfere with my life in any way, shape, or form? That's a fond
memory I have."
I swear I can hear Brooks and Davis rolling their eyes behind me right now.
They're just being polite by asking. It's against protocol for them to carry a box
even if I wanted them to, since it would interfere with their job of protecting me. Id
be just fine without protection, though. My fathers approval rating is the highest
of any president in the last ten years; the economy is good and there are no active
threats to my life - that I know of, anyway. But my parents are overprotective, to
say the least.
And honestly, Brooks and Davis are not bad at all as far as security details go.
They are humorless, of course. I think that's a job requirement. Contrary to popular
belief, we are allowed to decline protection, although my father would probably
have an actual heart attack if I did. I only relented to having a security detail if they
were female (how impossible would it be to have a relatively normal existence with
a team of brutes in suits following me around?) and if they were not reporting my
every move to my father.
Follow me around Fine. But I draw the line at them helping me with routine,
everyday tasks.
You know, like hauling a giant box of inflatable sex dolls and lube to my
neighbor's house.
I stand outside the gate with the box, Books and Davis a safe distance behind
me, as a male voice answers. "Yo."
Yo. Definitely not a retiree. "I'm your neighbor. I have something well um
of a personal nature that was mistakenly delivered to my house."
He laughs. "Of a personal nature?" he asks, obviously mocking the formality of
my words.
I immediately bristle. I mean, yeah, I've gotten called stuck-up a lot and Perfect
Presidential Daughter, but really, I'm doing this guy a favor. I could have just
inflated his dolls and thrown them over the stone wall that separates our
properties. On second thought, I definitely should have delivered the contents of
the box that way.
The gate opens and I stand there for a second, looking at his house. I've not seen
beyond the gates of any of the houses in my neighborhood; I've never even met any
of my neighbors. His driveway is short and cobblestone, just like mine; and his
house is similar to mine except it's at least twice as large. It's fucking huge.
Decorative trees line the edge of the wall between our properties and I make a
mental note to landscape better. I'm more than halfway up the driveway when he
steps out of the house.
GRACE
I blink twice, stopping short as my neighbor casually walks toward me in bare feet.
Carrying bongos.
Naked. Totally and completely naked, the bongos strategically covering the
goods. He's definitely not a retiree. Nope. Not at all. He's young and fit and
Massive, I realize as he approaches me. My gaze reluctantly moves from the
bongos upward, lingering for just a moment too long on his very muscular, very
ripped chest and abs. I blame the wine for my lingering eyes. A tattoo covers one of
his pecs, moving up to his shoulder and down part of his arm.
His arms are just as huge as the rest of him sculpted biceps and forearms
and good Lord, this guy looks like he should be felling trees or something. My
eyes don't stay on his arms, though they go right back to the bongos. And the fact
that those bongos are covering his bongos.
My package?" he asks.
"What?! I'm not looking at your package," I protest. My voice seems to come out
at least an octave higher than it is. I practically squeak like a mouse.
The edges of his mouth pull up in a slow smirk. "I was asking if you wanted to
hand over my package. It looks heavy."
Heat rushes to my face. Oh God, I can feel my cheeks turning scarlet already. I
clear my throat. "Yeah. Obviously. That's what I was talking about, too. " I force
nonchalance into my voice. Eyes up, Grace. Make eye contact and do not look down,
even if this is the closest you've been to an almost naked man in two years. "The
package. Your package. Not your package." I glance down at the bongos again.
What the hell is wrong with me?
"I can take a picture if you'd like," he says, grinning. "Of my package, I mean. If
you'd like to revisit it on your own in a more private setting."
My cheeks warm. "Why would I want that?"
He shrugs. "Just a neighborly offer."
The box. I shove it at him. "Here are your inflatable personal romance dolls, Mr.
Balsac."
He doesn't even look down at what he's holding. "Is this a welcome-to-theneighborhood gift?"
"Yes, I've come to say hello, but instead of bringing a fruitcake, I brought you
sex dolls, condoms, and lube. Nothing screams 'Hi, neighbor!' quite like that."
"I could take a pass on the sex dolls, unless you're into that kind of thing
obviously. But a neighbor who looks like you bringing condoms and lube? Well,
then: Hello, neighbor." He grins.
Hello, neighbor. It's not explicitly sexual but I swear his words are saturated in
sex. Hell, every part of this man is dripping with sex. He's one of those men who
just exudes it from his pores.
Heat pools between my legs. Okay, the wine has to be the problem because I
could swear this feels like attraction and I'm not attracted to guys like this big,
muscle-bound guys who look like they could pick me up and toss me over their
shoulders and carry me up to their bedrooms
I clear my throat. "I'm not into that kind of thing, for the record. Those are your
sex dolls. Like I said when I buzzed the gate. They were misdelivered to me. See?
Right there?" I point at the address label on the box. "Mr. Dick Balsac."
He glances down and chuckles. "Heh. Dick Balsac. Awesome." He looks up.
"Who brings fruitcake to a neighbor?"
"Huh?"
"You said instead of fruitcake you were bringing sex stuff. Do people even eat
fruitcake?"
I exhale heavily. "Fruitcake, Bundt cake, whatever."
"Bundt cake?"
"I said whatever. I don't know what people bring to their neighbors."
"A cup of sugar," he suggests, then pauses for a beat. "Or sex dolls and
condoms."
"You know, I usually try to not take my lessons in social etiquette from naked
men with bongo drums."
"Hey, you're the chick who showed up at my house with two girlfriends,
bringing me condoms and I'll admit, the blow-up dolls are new for me. I've never
had a girl try to pick me up using inflatable "
"You think I'm trying to pick you up?" I ask in disbelief. "We've already
established that you're the pervert ordering blow-up dolls. I'm just being a
courteous neighbor and delivering your box. I have zero interest in picking you up.
Less than zero, actually. I have negative interest in picking you up. And those
aren't my friends."
Mr. Dick Balsac steps forward, and I swear I mean to step back and put more
space between us, but I'm somehow stuck, rendered immobile by the way this guy
smells masculine, like soap and cologne and - Oh God, I need to stop smelling
him. He's an arrogant ass who clearly thinks he's God's gift to women, and just
because I had two glasses of wine and apparently lost all sense of reason doesn't
mean I should stand here sniffing this guy. "Zero interest?" he asks, looking down
at me. "You sure about that, sugar?"
I swallow hard. I wish he didn't smell so good. Has it been that long since I've
smelled a man that my body is going haywire over one whiff of him? "Zero," I
reiterate firmly. I clear my throat. "Less than zero."
My body betrays me by sending goose bumps rocketing over my skin. I can feel
my nipples harden under my bra.
Negative, he says.
Thats right.
"That's too bad, because I'm definitely interested in picking you up." He pauses,
and I suck in a breath of air between my teeth, my breath hitching in my throat. My
heart pounds furiously in my chest. "In fact, I'd be very interested in picking you
up, throwing you over my shoulder, and carrying you right into my bedroom."
My God, he's brazen. No one has ever spoken to me like that. Hell, no one would
ever dare speak to the President's daughter like that certainly not the far-tooappropriate men I've dated, the ones who wear suits and have the best educations
money can buy.
This man is in no danger of being one of those too-appropriate men.
His gaze doesn't waver, his eyes on mine as he speaks. "I'd pull up that
conservative little mom suit you're wearing and yank your panties down your
thighs you are wearing panties, aren't you? If you weren't, well" He makes a
sound low in his throat, feral like an animal.
That's what this guy is: a brute. An animal who just said he wants to throw me
over his shoulder and pull off my panties. I open my mouth to tell him exactly who
he can go screw (himself) after talking to me like that, but instead I hear myself
whimper.
I actually whimper.
A small, self-satisfied smile spreads across his face, and I'm instantly mortified
by my attraction to him. I should be absolutely repulsed. I should be high-tailing it
out of here. This man has bad choice written all over him.
I clear my throat like I didn't just practically moan at his filthy words. "I am not
wearing a mom suit. What the hell is a mom suit?"
He chuckles. "I just made it up now. It's like mom jeans, but a suit."
I swallow hard, suddenly self-conscious. So my work clothes aren't sexy. I'm a
professional running a foundation. I didn't think I looked frumpy, though. I
smooth out my skirt with my palms. Why does the fact that he implied I look
frumpy a mom suit?! make me embarrassed?
"Some of us work," I say, my voice curt. "In professional jobs. Where we have to
look appropriate and not run around naked with bongos."
"Oh, so you think I'm not a professional?" he asks, smirking.
"You're the one with the nudity and sex toys." I find myself acutely aware of the
fact that this guy totally thinks I'm uptight, then irritated with myself that I care.
"I'm leaving now," I announce primly, except I can't seem to make my feet move.
"Obviously the box is a gag gift. Clearly, with all of this manliness I've got going
on, I do not have to resort to inflatable pussy."
I roll my eyes hard. "Whatever you tell yourself. Dick."
AIDEN
" W hat's that?" Noah plods down the stairs, his steps heavy. Being a six-four,
Noah takes this stuff a lot more seriously than I do. I'm a work-hard-play-hard
kind of guy. Football has always been my first love, but hell, if I can't blow off
steam in my off time, what's the point?
Noah loosens up every so often mostly when moonshine or muddin' is
involved but otherwise he's nose-to-the-grindstone obsessed with the game.
Most people think he's an asshole, but we've been best friends since grade school.
His parents took in my sister and I during my senior year in high school after
basically everything in my family fell apart.
Last week after I signed the contract, Noah's mother real name Bess, but my
sister and I call her Mama Ashby called and laid a big ol' guilt trip on me about
setting an example for my younger sister and cleaning up my image so I don't waste
the opportunity to stay here in Colorado. I can't really do shit to argue with that
because I know it's true.
So thats why I wound up deciding to move into Noah's new place for the next
couple of months while renovations are being done on my house. Apparently I need
to lay low and act like an adult.
Except I'm standing here not wearing drawers and holding a box of blow up
dolls. So, all in all, I guess Noah is more of an adult than I am.
"It's a box of blow-up dolls." I set the box on the living room floor.
"The great Aiden Jackson is that hard up that he has to resort to inflatable
women?" Noah gives me side-eye as he passes through the living room and heads
toward the kitchen.
"Of course not. I've got plenty of real live women throwing themselves at me. It
was Moose screwing around. He sent it to Dick Balsac." The name makes me
chuckle. Maybe I have the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old, but that shit's
funny. Even if the very hot, infinitely fuckable girl next door thought I was some
kind of blow-up-doll-screwing pervert.
Noah has his head in the refrigerator pulling out vegetables and a family-sized
package of ground beef. I can't see his face, but I know for sure his eyes are rolling
hard because he thinks Moose's antics are stupid as hell.
Moose, obviously nicknamed for his size, always sends prank shit to the team at
the end of the season. It's a tradition, the same way I play the bongos naked before
big games - and also randomly when the mood strikes, like this morning. The
naked bongo playing started as a joke before my first game in Texas. I had too many
beers and bought bongo drums and then thought it'd be funny to pull a Matthew
McConaughey, since I was in Texas and all. Then we won, and clearly I could never
stop playing them or wed lose. That's how superstitions work. So the bongos have
followed me around since then.
Noah turns around and gives me a disgusted look. "Damn it, dude. Why are you
coming into the kitchen with your junk all hanging out? I want to eat, not vomit."
He pauses. "Wait. Were you in the front yard like that?"
"I was playing out on the deck upstairs and the doorbell rang."
"Some people put fucking clothes on to get the mail," he grumbles. "Get the
I STROKE my cock harder now, the image of her desperate and wanting pushing me
closer to the edge.
SHE WHIMPERS AGAIN, her mouth opening and forming a word, but she doesn't speak it.
Instead, she presses her thighs together.
I unzip my jeans, pulling them down and gripping my hard shaft. She looks
down and the expression on her face is agony. "Put your hand on my cock. Feel how
hard you make me."
She reaches for me tentatively, her thumb pressing against the tip where precum drips from it. "Aiden," she whispers.
I reach between her legs again, my fingers slipping easily inside her and she
groans as she strokes me. "You're not going to come so easily, sugar," I warn her.
"Not until you ask nicely. Not until you tell me how much you want to feel my hard
cock inside your tight little pussy, filling you up."
Her muscles clench down around my fingers, her swollen pussy warning me how
"SHIT!" I call out the word as the image pushes me over the edge, and I come.
When I step out of the bathroom, I glance over at her house. The hot neighbor is
sitting on her balcony drinking a glass of wine and reading the newspaper, a pair of
glasses perched on the end of her nose and her long legs stretched out in front of
her. Who the hell our age reads the newspaper anymore?
God, she is such a little nerd.
A sexy little nerd just waiting to be defiled.
Noah thinks that staying in this neighborhood is going to make me behave?
Yeah, right. Behaving is overrated.
GRACE
"I take it that since I'm talking to you, the neighbor wasn't totally psycho?" Vi
asks on the phone.
"Well" That's up for debate. My cheeks warm at the thought of the sexy
neighbor and the way I laid in bed last night fantasizing about what exactly I'd like
that over-muscled brute to do to me.
"You owe me a hundred bucks, don't you?" Vi asks, her voice light.
"How did you know?"
"Because you have a tone in your voice."
"What tone?" I ask. "There is no tone. I simply said, Well...' That indicates that
he could completely be psycho."
Vi ignores me. "I did some digging on your neighbor. Do you want to know what
his name is?"
"Nope," I say primly. "I'm not the least little bit interested."
I'm lying.
"Right," she says. "He's a - "
"La la la."
"Very mature."
"You're worse than my parents, Vi. I don't want to know what you found, spying
on my neighbor."
Vi sniffs. "The next time I see you in person, I'm going to slap you for your
insolence, comparing me to your parents."
"For most people, being compared to the President and First Lady would be a
compliment."
Vi and I both know that neither of us is like most people, and we know far too
much about the President and First Lady to consider the comparison a compliment.
Vi snorts her response. "Where are you?"
"It's ten in the morning," I say, glancing at my watch. "I'm working. Where are
you?"
"Lying in a hotel, waiting for room service," Vi says, her voice languid. I can
practically hear her stretching like a cat over the phone.
"Room service?" I ask absently, squinting at the projections for next quarter on
my neighbor's more-than-chiseled body mere inches away from mine. I could have
reached out and run my fingers over his muscular chest, down those rippled abs,
and lower
I shift uncomfortably in my seat as heat radiates through my body at the
thought, heading right between my legs.
I sigh exaggeratedly. "I did not. And I have a meeting in three minutes."
"Don't act like you didn't sneak a glance. Hot naked guy in front of you?" She
pauses and I hear a man's voice. "Of course, baby. Yes, there is a hot naked guy in
front of me."
"I was not looking at his junk," I sniff. My administrative assistant, Janice,
chooses the perfect moment to knock on my door. "Come in, Janice! I'm so sorry
that I won't be able to continue this conversation, Vi."
Vi laughs. "Are you blowing me off for a fake meeting?" She giggles at whatever
her flavor-of-the-moment is doing.
"Say hi to Vi, Janice," I order, holding out the phone and mouthing the words
thank you to my assistant.
"Hello, Violet."
"See? Unfortunately, I have to go."
"I'll let you get to work," she says, giggling again and squealing at her new beau.
"Don't forget the fundraiser next week," I remind her. "Bring your wallet."
"Always, darling."
It's the foundation's semi-annual fundraiser and a huge black tie event. My
father will be attending because he's in the middle of campaigning for re-election
(even though he just won the Colorado primary by a landslide) and "children always
poll well. Who doesn't like needy kids? And because you're my daughter, of
course."
My father, always the pragmatist.
He does bring a lot of funding, though, and funding is always good especially
considering the low projected donations for next quarter that I just saw.
I hang up the phone and look at Janice. "You have a meeting in five minutes,"
she says.
GRACE
" W hat the hell?" I'm changing out of work clothes getting ready to go for a run
when I hear music blaring from outside, barely muffled by the walls of the
house. Something country, but I can't quite hear the words. It's the neighbor. I
know it's him without even having to look. No one else in the world is that
obnoxious.
Or that sexy.
I put that thought right out of my head, because his obnoxiousness definitely
overrides his hotness. After wrangling on my sports bra, I pull on a tank top and
grab my sneakers from the closet, pausing in my bedroom. I give the thumping of
the music another thirty seconds before I'm officially annoyed. Sure, it's not like
it's two in the morning, but this neighborhood has always been quiet. Or at least it
was, before Bongo Dude moved in next door.
When I yank open the sliding glass door and stomp out onto the balcony, the
music assaults my ears. It's definitely country.
And that's definitely the hot neighbor I can see over the wall riding a
lawnmower around his expertly manicured lawn - shirtless.
It takes me a second to hear the chorus of the song and to place it: She Thinks
My Tractor's Sexy.
I nearly choke.
That could not be directed at me, could it? I'm not sure whether to be flattered,
amused, or annoyed.
As he rounds the end of the lawn, he looks up at my balcony and holds his can of
beer up in a mock cheers gesture because of course he's riding a lawnmower
and drinking at the same time.
Then he grins. Unmistakably cocky and smug, his grin is what pushes me over
the edge. The same guy who, upon meeting me, called me sugar tits is now riding
a lawnmower around shirtless while playing She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy?
He's totally trying to bait me.
That grin of his suggests he thinks he has.
I roll my eyes dramatically, as if he can see my expression from up here, but it
seems like a necessary gesture in response to his ridiculousness. Then I whirl
around and close the door behind me, standing with my back against it for a
moment as a laugh threatens to erupt from my chest.
He's juvenile. Completely and utterly juvenile. I shouldn't be laughing the
things he said to me, telling me he wanted to throw me over his shoulder and pull
my panties down my thighs, would have been far beyond inappropriate even if I
were a "normal" woman and not the President's daughter. But the fact that I'm the
President's daughter definitely makes them worse.
Even so, it's not the most awful thing in the world, seeing him with his shirt off
yet again. I flush warm at the memory of what I imagined him doing last night
when I had my fingers between my legs.
That does not mean I'm attracted to the jackass out there on a riding
lawnmower. I know his type. He's the kind of guy who's used to getting away with
frat boy antics, the kind of man who thinks he can whip out an arrogant little grin
and women will fall all over themselves for him.
I'm not one of those girls.
I tell myself that again as I peer through the blinds like a nosy old lady, straining
my neck to get a glimpse of him in his yard.
Yep. I'm definitely not one of those girls.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm running down the road, trailed by Brooks and Davis at
a safe distance, my pace a little faster than usual - which has nothing to do with the
fact that Bongo Dude was outside shirtless in his yard and I might have a little
pent-up frustration to run off.
Absolutely nothing.
We're not more than half a mile into the run when I hear the rumble of a motor,
and turn to see Bongo Guy.
In the middle of the street, coming up behind us, driving the riding lawnmower
like its a car. Still shirtless, even though it's not exactly a warm summer evening
in Colorado.
I pause as Brooks and Davis stop and reach for their weapons. Rolling my eyes, I
put my hand up. "Seriously, I'm a million percent certain my neighbor is not trying
to assassinate me by running me over with a lawnmower."
"You never know, ma'am. Protocol," Davis reasons. I can't tell if she's actually
serious, but at least she and Brooks refrain from drawing their weapons.
I turn, ignoring the fact that a shirtless man is following me on a lawnmower,
and resume jogging, but at a slower pace.
"Need a lift?" Bongo Guy asks, grinning widely. He takes a swig from his can of
beer.
"From the guy who's drinking while driving?" I ask, glancing over at him. I'm
glad I'm running because I can return my gaze to the road ahead instead of ogling
his bare naked, excessively muscled chest.
"Im fairly sure a lawnmower doesnt count," he protests.
"Um, it counts."
"I've only had one beer," Bongo Guy says. "Promise." He crosses his heart with
their names."
"How long have you lived here?"
"A couple of years." Okay, now I'm totally defensive. "You're obviously
friendlier than I am. With your nudity and riding lawnmowers andwhatever it is
you spend your time doing."
"You don't know what I do?" He asks the question like he's pleased with
himself.
"Something that gives you enough time to play the bongos naked and ride
around the neighborhood, clearly." He grunts his response. I continue to run, my
steps pounding a steady rhythm on the pavement. "Are you waiting for me to ask
you what you do?
Most women want to know these kinds of things.
I choke back a laugh. "You're full of yourself. And Im not most women.
Clearly.
I run in silence for a few more minutes before exhaling heavily. "Fine. What do
you do?
I cant tell you.
You cant tell me?
It's top secret." He takes another sip from his beer and grins.
Wait, dont tell me. Youre a secret agent living undercover as an obnoxious
frat guy.
Frat guy? You think Im a frat guy?
I shrug. "Youre the one with the bongos and canned beer and
What kind of secret agent frat guy lives in a house like that?
One named Dick Balsac?
He laughs. "Its actually Aiden.
Aiden, I repeat. "Huh. Dick suits you better.
Funny. Do I just keep calling you sugar or do you have a name?
You can stop calling me sugar, I say. "Its Grace." I deliberately leave off my
last name, although Im not entirely certain that Aiden would recognize me as the
Presidents daughter even if I told him.
Grace with the bodyguards.
Thats right.
So youre someone important, Aiden says as I keep running.
I laugh. "Thats definitely debatable.
Or someone who needs bodyguards. So you're someone people want dead.
Is this your version of I Spy or something? Youre going to try to guess my
identity?
You got something better to do in the next how many miles are you going?
Five.
Shit, I dont know if the lawn mower can go five miles.
Thats a real shame. Looks like Ill have to run these five miles on my own. In
silence.
Dont worry. I've still got plenty of juice left in this baby. Hes talking about
the lawnmower, yet his words definitely sound sexual.
I try to put that thought out of my head, focusing my attention on my cadence
and the sound of my feet on the pavement. One-two. One-two.
Hot bare-chested guy a few feet away.
Focusing isn't my strong suit right now.
Aiden's words break through my thoughts. So youre someone people want
dead.
Do people want me dead? Not right this minute; at least I don't think so. I
didnt say that.
Are you going to tell me if I guess right?
Are you going to tell me who you are? I counter.
Nah. I like it this way. So have you ever hooked up with someone whose last
name you didnt know?
I choke back a laugh. "Is that your lame version of a pick-up line?"
"I'm just trying to get to know my neighbor, Grace No-Last-Name. It's a
reasonable question."
"It's not a reasonable question."
He ignores me. "You don't look like a pop star or a model, so thats out.
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean? Are you following me just so you can
heckle me?"
This time when I glance over at him, I see his cheeks redden. Is Mr. No Shame
embarrassed? I meant that youre not all, like, super skinny and shit.
That's not helping."
If you want me to tell you exactly how hot your ass looks in that running gear, I
can. I was just trying to class it up a bit.
I laugh. "Thats appreciated.
So youre not a rock star or a model and youre not super famous -
How do you know Im not super famous?
You dont have any fans following you.
This is a gated neighborhood.
Good point. But you dont look super famous, which clearly means that you're
in in witness protection.
Youre suggesting that Im being followed by bodyguards because Im trying to
not call attention to my brand new government-provided identity?
Well, when you say it that way, it just sounds ridiculous.
Were rounding the corner, and when Aiden slows down, I find myself slowing
down and then stopping instead of running ahead. "Had enough of guessing?
He looks at his watch. I have to be somewhere.
I raise my eyebrows. "Hot date?
I dont even know this guys last name, but the thought of him with another
woman sets me on edge.
Jealous?"
Definitely not jealous, I lie, giving a casual shrug. "Have fun on your date,
Bongos.
"It's traininuh, work," he says. He starts to back up his lawnmower and spin
around as I turn to jog away. Then he pauses, looking back at me to call, Youre a
drug lord, arent you? Some kind of crime kingpin.
I laugh. "You got me.
See you around, sugar."
NOAH
WHAT THE HELL was I thinking, agreeing to this? I've been here for an hour, and so far
it's been a parade of rich old men and their trophy wives or girlfriends asking to
take photos with me while offering condescending condolences about the team's
big game loss in February, as if I'm personally crushed because the team didn't win.
Im not, by the way. I'm still a little pissed off about it, though. More so now
that Ive been reminded of it about a hundred times.
I knew this fundraiser was a bad idea. Normally, I'd never do something public
like this. Make donations? Sure. I've done lots of those. But Ive never donated my
ranch before it was the first major thing I bought after I got signed in Denver. For
the past few summers, in between seasons, I go out to the ranch and decompress,
away from everything and everyone. This summer is different, though, because Im
in negotiations and I cant hole up away from everybody, as much as I want to do
just that. So when my agent came to me a few months back with info about this
charity, the idea of donating the ranch just popped into my head.
I should have anticipated that my cutthroat agent would want to maximize the
public relations part of that donation as much as possible, which is why Im
reluctantly at a fancy event where Im supposed to smile and pretend to be
interested in what a bunch of wealthy people who are completely out of touch with
reality are talking about. I realize the irony of saying that when I've played on a
multi-million dollar contract for the past four years, but even now, I have a hard
time seeing myself as wealthy. I'm still the same poor kid from West Bend, and I
always will be.
Before long, I find myself at the bar, asking for the bartender to put something
into a glass - anything, just to take the edge off. "Surprise me," I tell him.
I down the liquid whiskey - grimacing as the alcohol burns my throat before
crossing the room and dodging too many self-important people outfitted in black
tie attire to count as I walk out of the ballroom to the front hallway, planning to
head outside to get some fresh air. Okay, Im actually planning to hide out and
maybe read on my phone for a little while until I dart back inside to make an
appearance at dinner, then get the hell right out of here.
The hallway is deserted compared to the crowd in the ballroom, only a few
stragglers on their cell phones and one couple walking toward the entrance to the
ballroom. A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a young redhead on his arm brags
loudly to her about the size of his private jet. Talk about overcompensation. As I
brush past them, the redhead gasps. Noah Ashby! I nod and smile, dodging them
before Im dragged into another boring conversation.
Im so preoccupied with congratulating myself for my expert evasive
maneuvering that I dont notice the girl in front of me or her dress until too
late.
Everything that occurs next seems to happen in slow motion. I swear, the sound
of tearing is amplified by a million. I look down to see my foot on the back of a long
red dress that trails on the floor. My eyes follow the dress up as the silky material
skims softly around the curves of a womans hips, to her trim waist, to the creamy
smoothness of her back where the material
Oh shit. I broke the straps on her shoulders the straps that were on her
shoulders when I stepped on the back of the dress.
I lift my foot quickly, but instead of moving away from her dress, the material
somehow clings to my shoe, and I step down again, catching it under my foot a
second time. The woman shrieks, stumbling backward against me. Reaching out
instinctively, I catch her as she lands with oomph, her back colliding with my
chest.
Then, a flash goes off in my eyes. Someone probably some asshole reporter
covering the event just took a photo of the brunette whose arms are draped over
mine.
I look down at the woman.
The woman whose dress I just stepped on, tearing the straps and causing the top
to slide right down over her breasts. The woman whos struggling to upright
herself, reaching for the top of her dress to hold it up, only to find its caught under
my feet and when I try to step off of it, she falls back against me even harder. The
brunette who someone just grabbed a photo of topless.
As the next flash goes off, I do the only thing I can think of. I hold my palms up
in front of her tits to block them from the guy taking the photo.
But she chooses that exact moment to stand upright, lunging forward and
straight into my hands.
Specifically, pushing her tits right into them.
Which means that Im now standing here, wearing a tuxedo at a fancyschmancy charity event, holding the boobs of some rich girl.
She shrieks. Oh my God, are you groping me?
Before I can answer, hands are on my arms. Mr. Ashby, step away from the
Presidents daughter.
The Presidents daughter?
Oh, hell.
The woman whirls around, one hand gripping the top of her dress and yanking it
up over her breasts, her green eyes flashing. Brown hair frames her face, cascading
in waves over her shoulders. Her cheeks are flushed scarlet, although whether its
from anger or embarrassment, I cant tell.
Probably embarrassment.
Scratch that. She looks pretty damn irate.
Oh my God. I recognize you. Youre the the football player whos donating his
ranch, she hisses. Her nostrils flare again. Holy shit. The photos of her in
magazines dont do her a damn bit of justice. Theyre absolutely nothing compared
to the woman standing in front of me right now.
The one whose tits I just grabbed. Shit. I just felt up Grace Sullivan, the daughter
of the President of the United States.
And it was caught on camera. Good publicity from this event just went right out
the fucking window. Hell, Im probably about to end up getting waterboarded in a
windowless room somewhere. If I'm lucky.
I hold my hands up as two agents pat me down. Meanwhile, the President's
daughter stands there gaping at me, her mouth open. For a fleeting moment, I
consider asking if she's staring at me because she's stunned by my good looks or
because she's never taken a photo with a football player's hands on her tits before.
But I reconsider that since she's wearing stilettos and I'm certain she wouldn't
hesitate to use one as a deadly weapon. She looks like she'd have good aim. I was
not groping you, I begin my defense.
Her hand grips her dress around her breasts - the same breasts I just cupped. I
glance down because now I cant stop thinking about her tits. When she notices,
the flush on her cheeks intensifies and her eyes go wider. Your hands were on my
boobs.
Maam, the Secret Service will detain and -
Wait, detain me? I was a good boy and stood still for a second while the Secret
Service agents patted me down, but detain me for what was clearly a fucking
accident? I dont think so. I stepped on your dress, but the whole boob-groping
thing was really your fault, not mine, sweetheart.
Sweetheart?! She straightens up, standing taller as she steps closer to me.
One of the agents puts her hand up to separate us, but she swats it away. I can
handle a belligerent drunk, Brooks."
Belligerent drunk? I ask, bristling. First of all, Im not drunk. And just
because I'm right doesn't mean I'm belligerent."
"Because you're right? So those weren't, in fact, your hands on my breasts?"
"Look, sweetheart. I don't go around groping women. I stepped on your dress,
but you fell into me. And that flash went off because someone was taking a photo,
so I put my hands up to shield your tits from the photo. Like a gentleman.
Like a gentleman? she squeals.
That's right. I wasnt even touching your tits. Not until you pitched forward
and fell into my hands. That was your doing, not mine.
"You've got to be kidding me," she starts. Then a look of panic passes over her
face, and she pauses. Who took the photo? She looks up at Brooks and Davis.
"Obviously, the photos need to be deleted Oh, God. My dad is going to be here any
minute. He'll flip out."
Her dad. The President of the United States.
"I'll take care of the reporter, I blurt out. The last thing I need is for a photo of
me groping the President's daughter to circulate around the tabloids. I could kiss a
potential lucrative contract right the hell goodbye. "He went out the front door. He
wont have gotten far."
One of the agents puts up her hand to stop me. Sir, you need to stay here.
Yeah, right. I think I can take care of a fucking reporter, I growl. Unless you
want to keep questioning me about whether or not I touched her tits on purpose.
GRACE
"G od, could this night get any better?" Vi stands in front of me in a private room
in the event building with a needle and thread in her hand, sewing the straps
back onto my dress. Fortunately for me, Vi has always had a penchant for fashion
design and carries a sewing kit in her purse "for fashion emergencies." Her skill
with a needle and thread has come in handy on more than one occasion, and the
girl can work magic with a little duct tape.
"Are you insane? Better? What on Earth could make this night worse?"
"I don't know. Let's see assassination attempt? Someone chokes on their
steak at dinner? Car accident? Poisoning? You lean over a candle and your hair
catches fire?"
"That was a rhetorical question. You're a little morbid tonight."
"It's a gift." Vi shrugs. "Oh, here's another one."
"Another cause of death?"
"Of course not. Another thing that could make this night worse."
I exhale heavily. "What?"
"If it hadn't been Noah Ashby that had ripped your dress off and touched your
ta-tas. If it had been Senator Richards, that would have been infinitely worse"
I nearly choke. Senator Richards is approaching eighty and has a reputation for
being rather handsy. He's an equal-opportunity groper, too, crossing party lines
and earning him the disgust of pretty much every woman on the Hill. "That's
disgusting, Vi."
"You had Noah Ashby's hands on your boobs. By default, that makes this the
opposite of a bad night."
Heat rushes through me when I think about Noah Ashby's hands. His very large
hands, calloused and rough, warm against my skin. The entire thing my dress
tearing, flashing the world, falling against Noah's massive chest and getting
groped by Noah Ashby was unexpected, to say the least.
So was my physical reaction to his touch, the arousal that coursed through my
body like electricity. I tell myself that it was just a physical reaction, pure instinct,
and occurring solely because it's been a long time since a man put his hands on my
breasts. Thats what I told myself as I watched him take off out of the building after
the guy who took the salacious photos, and thats what I reassured myself again as I
walked back to this room, the throbbing between my legs insistent.
It was purely a physical response that had nothing to do with Noah Ashby. The
man was unlikeable in every way, a gruff, arrogant caveman who called me
sweetheart like I needed a pat on the head. He was a stereotypical cocky
professional athlete.
Of course, he did donate his ranch to the charity for the summer.
I refuse to cut him any slack for that. Professional athletes are always doing stuff
like that just to get good press.
I clear my throat. "Not by choice," I tell her primly.
Vi clucks her tongue. "I'd let him touch my boobs anytime. He's delicious." A
look of annoyance must flicker across my face because Vi laughs. "Relax, girl. I'm
not going to go after your hot neighbor."
"What?" I ask, confused. "What does my neighbor have to do with Noah
Ashby?"
"Noah Ashby is your neighbor! I told you, I looked up who bought the house. It
wasn't exactly public record, but I was curious, so I asked this guy that I used to
date - anyway, how I found out is beside the point. I tried to tell you before you
went over there, but you weren't having any of it. You've already seen him naked
and now he's grabbed your boobs. You might as well get it over with and get his
throbbing rod inside you already."
I ignore Vi's crude euphemism because I'm preoccupied with the whole neighbor
thing. "But I didn't see Noah Ashby naked. He's not my neighbor."
She looks at me skeptically. "Are you sure? You did have wine that night. You
know how you get after two glasses of wine. You have the lowest alcohol tolerance
of anyone I've ever met."
That much is true. You'd think with all of the dinners and events I've had to
attend, I wouldn't be such a lightweight, but that's definitely not the case. In fact,
I'd be a terrible spy three glasses of wine and I'd be spilling state secrets like
crazy.
I bring my attention back to Vi. "Yes, I'm sure. I was tipsy, not blind. And the
neighbor is definitely not Noah Ashby."
"So you've gotten to second base with Noah Ashby and you got a private nudie
show from another hot guy in the last few days? And you're asking how things
could get any worse? You should be thanking the universe for dropping two hot
guys in your lap especially after the long drought you've had."
"It was not a nudie show," I correct. "At least, not for me. Brooks and Davis saw
more of my neighbor than I did."
Two hot guys. My heart skips a beat thinking about her words. Two hot muscled
guys who were shamelessly flirting with me. Well, one of them was, anyway. Noah
wasn't flirting. The only reason I was inclined to believe that he wasnt purposely
groping me was that he seemed more irritated about touching my boobs than
anything else. That fact alone makes my physical response to him all the more
point out that you wouldn't have missed anything if you hadn't been putting the
moves on that tech billionaire."
"What can I say? Stanford Jones is hot in a rich, nerdy way. Beside, it's not like I
have two gorgeous men throwing themselves at me."
"No one is throwing themselves at anyone," I remind her as we step out of the
room.
Standing just outside the room in the hallway, Brooks is talking into her
earpiece. "Ma'am, your father is en route."
I groan. So much for tracking Noah down and finding out whether he got the
photos. "So soon?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Did the football player get the camera?" I whisper the question to Brooks, even
though we're the only ones back in these rooms, which have already been cleared
and secured by the Secret Service in preparation for my father's arrival.
She doesn't have time to answer before I hear my father's voice booming down
the hall. "Grace Monroe Sullivan, why on Earth are you back here instead of
soliciting donations?"
I'm not sure if he's talking about soliciting donations for the foundation or for
his campaign. Actually, scratch that. I'm positive he'd pick his campaign over
needy kids. That statement sounds bitter, but it's not. I came to terms with my
father's single-mindedness a long time ago. It's not that he doesn't care about
other people; he does, and he's done great things as President that have helped a
lot of people. That's why his approval rating is so high. Well, that and my father is
immensely charismatic.
But he does have priorities, and priority number one is getting elected to a
second term. At this point, that's really considered to be in the bag. But that won't
stop my father from campaigning to win until he's certain the election is entirely
locked down. It's what he does, part of who he is.
Beside me, Vi snickers. "Grace Monroe Sullivan," she says softly, her voice low
in an imitation of my father's.
"Hello to you too, Dad," I call as my parents approach, flanked by their Secret
Service personnel. "And Mom."
"How many times have I told you not to refer to me as 'Mom'?" Katherine
Sullivan stops short of me, her eyes scanning down the length of my body. I know
what she's doing without her even having to say a word. She's evaluating me,
deciding which part of my attire or presentation should be changed. It's what she's
always done for as long as I can remember. It hasn't stopped, even though I'm an
adult. Actually, I think it's gotten worse over the years. "You know that I can't
stand that casual language. I've always been 'Mother' and that hasn't changed in
the month since I last saw you."
Standing beside her, my father rolls his eyes, but she doesn't catch it. Or more
likely, she caught it and ignored it. "Katherine, leave the girl alone. At least she still
calls us Mom and Dad, and not Kathy and Art."
I giggle at the thought, even as my mother visibly recoils, her face contorted in
an expression of horror. My mother has never been the casual type. Even when my
parents campaigned in the mid-west and my mother tried to dress "like a regular
person, she still looked out of place. She's one of those women who belong in
another decade. The magazines call her this century's Jackie O, and my mother
couldn't be more pleased with the comparison. She's always been more afternoon
tea and country club than jeans and shopping at Target. "Honestly, Arthur, you
shouldn't even joke like that. It's unseemly." Her eyes linger on my shoulders and
she narrows them slightly. "Is your dress torn?"
"Not anymore," Vi says. "I stitched the straps back into place."
"Well, you simply can't wear that dress, Grace. Where's your backup gown?"
"I don't have a backup gown."
"How many years have you been attending events like this, Grace? You didnt
bring a backup gown?"
"It doesnt look torn," my father interjects. "It looks fine to me."
"Well, you would be wearing plaid ties if I didn't dress you," my mother says
stiffly.
"I like plaid ties. They're distinctive."
"They're not Presidential."
"They could be your trademark, part of your brand," Vi suggests. "The President
in Plaid."
"Am I a brand?" my father asks.
"Of course you're a brand," my mother sniffs.
"Aren't we all," Vi adds wistfully.
"No, we're not all brands," I protest, more out of discomfort with the notion
than in disagreement. If my parents had their way, I'd be wearing campaign attire
twenty-four hours a day. As it is, I'm enough of a walking advertisement for my
father just by being his daughter.
"Don't be obtuse," my mother says, sighing. "Well, at least you're wearing red,
Grace. Thank God for small mercies. Red doesn't wash you out nearly as much as
some other colors."
I clear my throat, anxious to get my mother to direct her attention away from
her critique of me and my wardrobe choices. "Should we go?"
"Sure thing, kiddo," my father says. He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Now,
what am I talking about tonight?"
I groan. "Dad, it's the foundation fundraiser. You already know "
"I'm kidding, Gracie. Of course I know its the foundation fundraiser.
I exhale heavily. "I'm a little on edge."
"It's because she needs a vacation," Vi chimes in. "Or a good hard "
"Let's go out there already, Vi," I say, heavily emphasizing her name as I give
her a "cut it out" look.
"A good hard what?" my father asks, oblivious to the innuendo behind Vi's
words.
NOAH
B y some kind of miracle, I make it through all five courses of the dinner or was
it six? I endure the man beside me who badgers me for inside information about
other players so he can place wagers on next season's games, wink-wink-nudgenudging me as he downs scotch after scotch and talks about how he understands
the game because he played football in college. I even survive the old woman next
to me who insists on showing me photos and giving me the phone number of her
married granddaughter, despite my protests against it, because "her no-good
husband doesn't deserve her and you look like a fine young man".
I don't stab anyone with a fork, which is really commendable, in my opinion. I
don't make any scenes. Somehow, I even manage to smile during the meal. All of
that is a big deal after all, my public demeanor has gotten me into hot water
before. Apparently, telling reporters to fuck off when theyre up your ass trying
to interview you after a game is frowned upon.
I blame my tolerance for this bullshit on her the Presidents daughter. Im
distracted by her during the entire dinner, catching glimpses of her from across the
room. She's hard to miss in that red dress, although truthfully she could be wearing
a paper bag and she'd still be the hottest woman Ive ever seen. I catch her eyes at
one point, and I think I see her blush, an immediate reminder of where my hands
were earlier tonight.
Id give just about anything to put them there again.
The thought of my hands on her breasts makes my cock twitch, and I have to
shift in my seat, returning my thoughts to whatever the hell boring bullshit that
the guy beside me is talking about, just so that I don't get a boner right here in the
middle of this event. And for the President's daughter, no less.
I've got no call getting a hard-on for a girl like that. First of all, shes out of my
league. Even if she werent the Presidents daughter, every part of the way she
carries herself would telegraph that fact loud and clear. Shes classy, practically
regal, every inch of her political royalty.
Shes also a rich snob. I remind myself of that fact. A girl like her, born and bred
into a family like that is definitely not down-to-earth. That much is true, no matter
how hot that girl is. No matter how much the thought of her soft skin and her firm
breasts make me want to pick her up and press her hard up against the nearest
wall, thrust my cock inside her, and make her moan.
Shes one of the rich and powerful. Hell, shes the daughter of the most
powerful man on earth. People like Aiden and I poor kids from Colorado who got
rich because we play sports don't get with girls like that, even if we have all the
money in the world.
And I wouldn't want to anyway. Rich girls are the exact opposite of my type.
Still, that doesn't stop me from watching the way that silky dress skims over her
curves as she walks, or the way she smiles as she tucks an errant strand of hair
behind her ear when she talks to someone.
The President makes a speech at the end of the dinner, with Grace standing
behind him on the stage with the First Lady. He talks about charitable giving and
the foundation and how proud he is of his daughter - and his campaign, of course.
This event is obviously a thinly veiled way of drumming up campaign donations,
more than it is about supporting his daughter's charity work.
When he mentions his campaign, Grace's face pales, but she smiles and
applauds with the rest of the room. Her smile doesnt quite reach her eyes, though.
It rubs me the wrong way that she's standing there behind him like a prop
accompanying him on the campaign trail when it's her foundation that should be
the focus of the evening.
I'm irritated by it and I don't know why. I shouldn't be, because it's none of my
business. I don't even know the first thing about her, or any of them.
All I know is that in the few minutes out there in the hallway, the girl I saw the
one who stood with her hands on her waist, glaring at me with her nostrils flared
had some fire in her veins. She didn't seem like the kind of girl to hang back and
smile demurely while deferring to anyone, which is exactly what she's standing
there doing right now.
I shake off those thoughts, because it's none of my damn business. After the
speech, I head right for the door because I'm tired of rich people and Im pretty
sure the longer I stay here, the greater the chance there is of me doing something
that's not good for my image. I'm going to sneak out quietly - or at least as quietly
as a guy my size can.
Until she catches me. I know it's Graces hand on my arm before I even turn
around to look. "Mr. Ashby."
"Ms. Sullivan." When I face her, Im looking down into those striking green
eyes. Hell, everything about this woman is striking.
She pauses for a moment, her lips parted just slightly. She's wearing this
lipstick, fire engine red, that perfectly matches the color of her dress, and I can't
stop staring at it. In that moment, the image of her on her knees, those bright red
painted lips wrapped around my cock, flashes into my head. My dick twitches just
thinking about it.
Getting a hard-on in this setting is the last thing I need. I clear my throat and try
to push that thought out of my head before she decides I'm some kind of pervert.
Then Grace leans close to me, her lips turned up at the edges in a playful smile.
"I think, since we've been to second base already, you can call me by my first
name."
Well, maybe Little Miss Perfect has a sense of humor after all. "Okay. Grace,
then."
She pulls the corner of her lower lip into her mouth and I think I hear her inhale
sharply. She's standing so close to me that I can smell her perfume, light and airy
and not at all what I'd imagine someone like her cool, calm, and professional
would wear. "Noah," she says, her voice soft.
The second the word leaves her lips, I picture her calling out my name, her head
against the pillow, her face upturned toward mine as I drive into her. Noah Noah.
Just standing near this girl is killing me.
"Grace!" a woman's voice interrupts, and whatever moment passed between us
is immediately broken as Grace turns to smile politely and answer a few questions. I
could easily take the opportunity to leave, and thats what I should do, except that I
find myself not wanting to go.
Grace breaks off the conversation quickly, gesturing at me to follow her as she
weaves through the crowd. She smiles graciously at people, but her security detail
does a good job of subtly whisking her out of the room. They open a door manned
by a Secret Service agent, and I follow Grace down a hallway and into a private room
as one of the women in her security detail clears the room perfunctorily and then
walks wordlessly outside.
I wait until the agent is gone to speak. "If you wanted to get to second base
again, all you had to do was say so," I say, regretting my words nearly the second
they leave my mouth. Yeah, thats fucking classy, Noah.
A look of confusion passes over her face. "I didn't want to you think I brought
you back here so I could so we could ?"
"First you put your tits in my hands, and now you're dragging me to a back
room." I dont know why I say it, except for wishful thinking on my part. Theres
just something about this girl who got so riled up in the hallway earlier, with her
cheeks flushed pink and her blue eyes flashing, that brings out some juvenile part
of me. I just want to get her riled up again.
Shes so damn hot when shes angry.
She narrows her eyes. "I did not put my tits in your hands," she says. "And I
certainly did not drag you back here so I could do whatever with you."
She actually looks offended - offended and pissed off. I'm not going to lie,
though, pissed off is a damn good look on her.
"No?"
She hesitates. "No.
Well, thats disappointing.
She blushes. A faint pink tinge colors her cheeks and Im unnaturally pleased
with myself for causing that blush. I know I shouldnt be hitting on her this is a
bad idea on so many levels but somehow I can't seem to help myself.
breasts."
She swallows hard. "That's right."
I cant help doing what I do next, even though its the last thing I should be
doing. I touch my fingertips to her arm, running my fingers over her skin until I
reach her shoulder. She doesnt flinch, doesnt pull away a bit when I touch her.
Instead, she makes a little whimpering sound.
Oh, hell.
That sound makes me hard as a rock. My cock immediately springs to attention
under my tuxedo, and I slide my hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her hair as I
turn her face toward mine. Im very nearly about to crush her lips under mine,
when there's a knock on the door.
Fuck. I think I groan the word aloud.
"Ma'am, the President and "
The Secret Service agent barely finishes what she's saying before a woman
pushes her way inside the door. "Grace, your Mom and Dad are "
Grace jumps away from me like she's been shocked by electricity, clearing her
throat loudly. "Vi, this is Noah Ashby. Noah Ashby, this is Vi Scott."
"Oh," Vi says, smiling as she looks between us. She makes no attempt to hide it
when she checks me out, her arms crossed over her chest as her eyes trail down the
length of my body. When her gaze reaches my pants, tented by my obvious
erection, she raises her eyebrows and grins. "Ohhh."
"Vi, this is not what it looks like " Grace starts.
"Oh, please. I hope this is exactly what it looks like, Vi says, rolling her eyes.
You Boob Guy. Good work with that. She hasnt gotten to second base in a long
time. Shes practically a nun.
Vi! Grace exclaims.
Oh, yeah, one other thing. Your parents are right behind me, Grace.
"Gracie, your mother and I are " the President's voice booms as he enters the
room, and it's a good thing Grace's friend barged in just a second before, causing
my boner to rapidly deflate, because meeting the President of the United States
while sporting a hard-on isn't one of the things on my bucket list. "Noah Ashby."
"Mr. President." Fucking hell, the President of the United States knows my
name? I might not like the guy hes always had kind of a smarmy, self-important
air about him, with all his preaching about family values but Ill admit that Im a
little star-struck right now.
He looks back and forth between me and his daughter, his brow furrowing for
only a second before his face brightens in an affable smile. "That was a hell of a
game you played at the end of last season.
"Thank you, sir." I think I remember hearing that the President was a big
football fan, but its a completely different experience hearing the President
congratulate you personally.
"Shame about the last quarter.
Yes it was, Mr. President.
Youre working with Graces foundation, isnt that right? he asks. Beside him,
the First Lady gives me a cool stare.
Ive donated my ranch for one of the summer programs.
Thats fantastic. Im always impressed when athletes are willing to get
personally involved in charities, especially when theyre such good ones. The way
he says it, Im not sure he even knows what the cause is. Im sure the kids are
going to be thrilled to have you working with them one on one.
One on one? Thats a big assumption. Kids and I dont exactly get along. Oh, I
dont -
Hes donated his ranch, Grace says. I'm sure Mr. Ashby doesn't have the
time to be personally involved in the actual session at the ranch, especially since
its two weeks away.
The First Lady puts her hand on the Presidents arm. Just because our daughter
insists on camping with children every summer doesnt mean that everyone has
the inclination to do the same. Im sure you have plenty of summer training to do,
dont you, Mr. Ashby?
She smiles at me, but her voice is unmistakably chilly. I get the distinct
impression that shes doesnt like the fact that she and the President walked in on
her daughter and I in this room alone, and it irritates me.
Thats the only possible explanation I have for why I say what I say next. Ive
never taken kindly to people telling me what I should and shouldnt do, and the fact
that this woman seems bent on discouraging me from being near her daughter only
makes me want to do it more - even if she's the First Lady.
Actually, I've been looking for opportunities to be more directly involved in
charitable organizations," I say, my voice even. "In fact, I really enjoy being handson."
Graces friend Vi hides a smile behind her hand even as Grace's face pales.
10
GRACE
"N oah Ashby would be a good celebrity endorsement," my father notes not less
than a minute after Noah walks out of the room. My cheeks still feel like
they're on fire after the lingering glance Noah gave me before he left - the look I
hope my parents didnt catch. Of course, Vi did, which is why shes giving me a
wide-eyed meaningful stare from across the room. I know that expression that's
Vi's "we so need to talk about this right away" look.
"He would," Vi says, raising her eyebrows as she looks at me again. "You should
talk to him about that, Grace."
"Me?" I squeak. "I don't think that "
"Im sure youll be working with him closely, since hes involved with the
charity, my father says.
Very closely, Vi says, and I give her my best glare of fury.
My mother narrows her eyes at us, but my father is completely oblivious,
preoccupied with the campaign. Endorsements from professional athletes play
well with a younger crowd."
"But you already have the Colorado vote sewn up," I protest. "You won the
primary by a landslide. You dont need a celebrity endorsement. Besides, you don't
even know his political affiliation. He might not be a Sullivan supporter.
"More votes never hurt," my father reminds me. "His political affiliation is
irrelevant. You know as well as I do that endorsements are purchased. Everyone has
a price, and I want to know his.
As soon as my father speaks the words, I know hes made up his mind. Hes
already decided that Noah Ashby is going to be at the ranch, and theres no
changing my fathers mind once hes made a decision.
My mother purses her lips. "I don't think she'll necessarily be working with him
that closely with the charity," she interrupts. "And he'd need to be vetted before an
endorsement, of course. If any sort of scandal is attached to his name"
Vi snorts. "You're joking, right?"
"Pardon?" my mother asks, her lips pursed again, her tone practically saturated
in disdain. She's never liked Vi, not even when Vi's father and mine worked
together in Colorado. Vi is well aware of that, which is why she enjoys pushing my
mother's buttons.
"If there's a scandal attached to his name?" Vi asks, clearly determined to get
under my mothers skin by pointing out how my father has already decided that Im
going to be working with someone whos the exact opposite of the kind of man my
mother wants me to date. "Noah Ashby isn't exactly a choirboy."
"See? Scandal. He's out," my mother tells my father. "Your entire platform is
based on old-fashioned family values. Any whiff of a scandal would taint the
campaign."
"What kind of scandal?" I ask before I even realize I'm speaking, my curiosity
immediately overruling any common sense I have. I shouldnt care about Noah
Ashbys scandals, I tell myself. I dont care, because Im not the least little bit
interested in the professional football player.
Not at all.
Besides, Im sure he hasnt done anything as scandalous as my neighbor Aiden
and his public nudity. That makes two men Ive met recently who are definitely not
choirboys.
Two men who make my heart race.
Two men I shouldnt be the least bit interested in.
"Nothing terrible," Vi says. "No drugs or anything like that."
"Domestic violence?" my mother asks.
"No. Adolescent male behavior. Streaking, boozing, that kind of thing."
"So that's adolescent male behavior now?" Despite the seriousness of the
conversation, I cant refrain from teasing Vi, who was infamous for leading our
high school senior class in streaking through the library.
Always the mature adult, Vi sticks her tongue out at me.
"We'll vet him first," my father decides, dismissing everyone's concerns with a
quick wave of his hand. "Isn't he up for contract renewal?"
My father asks the question casually, as if he doesn't know the answer. Its one
of my fathers tricks the casual question. In reality, my father never asks a
question he doesnt already know the answer to. Hes an avid football fan. He
clearly already knows everything about Noah Ashby without any of us telling him a
thing.
"What does that matter?" presses my mother.
"If he's up for renewal, he has to play it straight. Everyone loves a redemption
story. Grace will be working with him. Run it by him, will you, Grace?"
It's not a suggestion or a question. It's a direct order from the Commander in
Chief. I clear my throat. "Yes, Dad.
Working closely with Noah Ashby? I dont know whether to be excited or
terrified.
"Speaking of redemption stories," my mother interrupts, you really need to be
seen with someone appropriate during the campaign season, Grace. People are
starting to wonder if you're a lesbian, and a lesbian daughter doesnt poll well with
voters.
You took polls on my sexuality? I ask, utterly appalled. I dont know why Im
surprised in the least. Nothing my parents do when it comes to campaigning should
surprise me anymore.
"Well, there was that time in boarding school" Vi jokes. I throw her an icy
look.
"What people are wondering this?" I ask, my voice frosty. "I don't see why I
need to date someone because of the campaign. I didn't date anyone during the
first one."
"You're older now, dear. I have a few candidates. I'll leave their files with
Brooks. And be nice when they call you."
"Mom," I start. "Mother. I am not dating someone just because "
"Gracie, we need to run," my father interrupts, looking at his Blackberry. He
steps close to me and kisses my cheek. "Humor your mother, okay? Shes really
asking out of concern for you. She just doesn't want you to die alone."
"Thanks a lot, Dad," I mutter. "I'm sure that's the reason."
"Don't be caustic, Grace," my mother says. "It doesnt suit you.
When my parents have left the room, Vi waits approximately two seconds to
turn to me, her eyes wide. "So Noah Ashby."
I shrug and muster the most innocent-looking expression I can. "What about
him?"
"Oh, please. Don't play coy. I know you. You have the same look on your face
right now that you had when you crushed on Jared Caulder in tenth grade."
"I do not!"
"You do, and you're just as defensive as you were then. Grace and Noah, sitting
in a tree, K-I-S-S"
"Oh, shut it, Vi. You're as bad as my mom."
"Mother," Vi corrects, laughing. "Don't ever call her Mom."
"I sometimes forget how insufferable she is since I don't see her that often
anymore."
"I can't believe you just compared me to her."
"You're right. I feel like a bad person."
"You're a terrible person," Vi agrees. "But look at you, you big hussy.
"Vi!" I squeal.
"Two hot men after the President's daughter," Vi says with a wistful sigh.
"Which one will she choose?"
"There are no men after me," I protest. "And there's no choosing going on."
"You're right. I can't say they're both hot without verifying this for myself.
Personally. I thought Noah Ashby was your neighbor, but now I'm intrigued. I'll
need to check out Naked Bongo Guy for myself."
"That's exactly what I need," I say, laughing. "You sitting on my balcony with a
pair of binoculars and a tub of popcorn."
"Screw the popcorn - too many carbs. I'd have a bottle of wine."
"You realize wine has carbs too, right?"
even know how to do that. See two guys at the same time? Isn't that weird?"
"Well, you see, when a woman and two men really care about each other, or they
get really drunk, sometimes one takes her from behind and the other "
"Violet Anne Marie Scott," I interrupt. "I can't believe you just said that. I was
not talking about a a"
"Threesome?"
"A" My voice drops to a whisper. "Yes. A threesome."
Vi sighs. "Oh, to be sandwiched between two attractive, muscular men. A girl
can dream."
"I can't believe you just said that," I gasp.
The strange thing is that, as scandalized as I am by Vi even joking about a
threesome with Noah and Aiden, the thought keeps popping into my head the rest
of the evening, even as I make my final rounds in the event, making small talk and
thanking donors. When I realize that Noah has already left, Im not quite sure if the
exhale I let out is one of relief or disappointment.
Later, when I'm lying in bed, thoughts about Noah and Aiden rush into my head
again, totally unwarranted. Obviously I'm some kind of pervert because my mind
drifts to Aiden and that cocky grin he gave me as he stood in front of me, nearly
naked. Then it flits to Noah and the way he smelled raw and masculine when he
stood close to me.
I picture Noah reaching for the nape of my neck the way he did at the event,
except this time, he pulls me close to him, his mouth crashing down hard on mine.
NOAH'S LIPS press against mine, his tongue finding mine urgently with no sense of
hesitation. When he kisses me, I think my heart stops beating for a minute. I melt
against him, lost in every sensation as he runs his hands through my hair, sending
goose bumps across my skin.
Then, as quickly as it started, he stops. Breathless, I look at him questioningly,
but not for too long before Aiden is standing there taking my hand and pulling me
toward him. I crash against Aiden's bare muscular chest, glancing at Noah for his
reaction, but instead of being upset, Noah just nods. "Kiss him," he tells me.
I do. When Aiden's lips touch mine, I kiss him back, my body melting against his
as his hands roam the length of my back to my hips, finding the edges of my
panties and sliding them down my thighs before I can even protest.
As if I want to protest.
runs through me at the mere thought of being with Noah and Aiden at the same
time.
NOAH SLIDES TO HIS KNEES, yanking my panties to my ankles as he kneels on the floor,
then tossing them to the side. Before I can register what's happening, Aiden is
behind me, the warmth of his chest against my back, his hardness pressing against
my ass cheek as his hands run over my arms, then down to my breasts. Noah's
mouth envelops me, his tongue finding its destination between my legs where he
licks and sucks my clit like hes an expert in the act.
I close my eyes, relishing the sensation of Aiden's breath on my neck and his
tongue flickering over my earlobe before he finds the sensitive spot on the size of
my neck that makes me go crazy. I hear someone moan loudly far too loudly to be
appropriate, and it takes me a minute to realize that it's me. I'm far too turned on
to be embarrassed, though, considering what Noah is doing with his fingers.
I moan at the sensation of his fingers inside me, stroking me, his fingertips
pressing against that spot in me that makes my toes curl. Their hands seem to be
everywhere Aiden's hands on my breasts, my nipples coming to attention as he
pinches them; Noah's cupping my ass, pulling me against his face as his tongue
caresses my clit.
I THRUST my fingers inside my slick pussy, imagining that it's Noah's fingers inside
me. When I palm my breast, my fingers squeezing my nipple, I picture Aiden's
fingers there. I'm so wet, so needy, so on the verge of coming at the thought of
both men wanting me, touching me fucking me - that I hear myself moan aloud
in the stillness of my bedroom.
"YOU LIKE THIS, don't you?" Aiden asks. "I knew you were filthy the moment I saw
you."
I groan my response, unable to articulate any words right now.
"When I told you I wanted to throw you over my shoulder and carry you into my
house and fuck your brains out, it turned you on, didn't it?" Aiden asks.
My muscles clench their response around Noah's fingers as he pulls away from
my pussy, looking up with a grin. "Don't pretend otherwise, Grace," he says,
because you can't hide the way your body responds."
"Are you wet for us?" Aiden asks, his breath hot against my ear. I swear that I
get wetter the second he asks the question. "Does the idea of two men fucking you
turn you on?"
The moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, and Noah groans, sending
vibrations between my legs. I don't think I can hold out any longer the sensation
11
AIDEN
"L ate night?" I ask, closing the front door behind me. I was up at six and off to a
cross-training session at the training center off-season training means
cross-training, which is a nice break except for when I'm feeling a little
frustrated, like I am right now. What Id like to do is pound out a really heavy
weight session, or go out to the field and run plays over and over until my mind is
totally consumed by football.
I haven't been able to get the hot-ass neighbor chick out of my head, and using
my hand has been no substitute for the real thing. Last night, I declined a text from
a cheerleader whos been after me for months, because I was too preoccupied with
Hot Neighbor. I even hung out on the balcony, craning my head to see if I could
catch a glimpse of her, but she never emerged from her house, probably because a
girl like that has a boyfriend, or a string of boyfriends.
Except that she was flirting with me, that much I'm sure of.
Fuck. I can't remember the last time I was this wound up about a stupid chick. I
need to just go get laid. The problem is that I dont want to just get laid by some
girl. I want Hot Neighbor.
"Not really," Noah says. He walks into the kitchen and peels two bananas,
tossing them into the blender.
"You're so domestic, making me a protein shake," I note.
"Fuck you," Noah grumbles. "This is my breakfast."
"You're testy this morning."
Noah grunts a response as he unscrews the lid to the protein powder.
"Aw, did playing nice with all the rich old ladies last night put you in a bad
mood?" I ask. I can't resist messing with Noah when hes pissy because it only
makes him angrier.
But instead of lashing out at me, he just ignores me and dumps four scoops of
protein powder into the blender.
"Oh, I got it. You had a little thing with one of those rich old ladies and you're
having a little morning-after regret? We've all been there, dude."
Noah glares at me. "I didn't screw anyone."
"Okay, that's the problem. I can pull out my phone numbers if you want.
There's this girl, Audrina, who's a total tiger in the sheets. She's a little crazy,
though
"Shut up, man. I'm not hard up. I just "
The expression on his face clinches it for me. "You met a chick," I say, realizing
what the pained look on his face means: he has a major case of blue balls. "You met
a chick and didn't get in her pants."
Noah turns on the blender to drown me out. As soon as he stops it, he tells me to
go fuck myself. "I didn't meet a chick. I mean, not really. Im out a hundred grand
because I groped the President's daughter, and "
"You paid a hundred thousand dollars to feel up the President's daughter?" I
ask, confused. "This was a charity auction? My mind is blown. I really need to start
looking into doing more charity work."
"No, it wasnt some kind of pervy charity auction, dickhead."
"The President has a daughter?"
Noah looks at me like I'm an idiot. Yes, the President has a daughter. Don't you
ever watch the news? Do you even know who the President of the United States is?"
"Of course I know who the President is," I say. Stop getting off-topic. You paid
a hundred grand to grope an ugly chick?"
"She's not ugly."
"Obviously she is, or you wouldnt be so upset about it. You really need to raise
your standards."
"You have no idea at all who I'm talking about, do you?"
I shrug. "I don't care about politics, dude."
"What's wrong with you? Read a fucking newspaper or something, man. Stuff
these politicians do affects your life, you know."
I grab an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter and bite into it. "Doesn't
affect mine. I've got a house and job security."
"Sometimes I want to slap the sense of entitlement right out of you."
"Entitlement, hah. Go for it, bro. Remember when I whooped your ass senior
year of high school? I'll do it again."
Noah snorts. "I'd like to see you try."
"Not right now. Im not going to be distracted. I want to hear about how you paid
money to grope the President's daughter. Is she a hooker?"
"Yeah, Aiden. The daughter of the President of the United States is a fucking
prostitute and I paid a hundred grand to bang her."
"That's reasonable. Was it good?" I ask, then stop myself. "For a hundred grand
it should be. But obviously it wasn't or your attitude would be better today."
Noah gulps his protein shake before setting down the cup on the counter. He
sighs loudly, the way he does when he's exasperated with me. "I no, I didn't pay
money to bang her! Its complicated, all right?
Seems pretty simple to me. You felt a girl up for a hundred grand.
I stepped on her fucking dress, and then she fell into me with her boobs out
and I was putting my hands up because someone got a photo of her but she stood
up and oh, hell, I don't know why I'm even telling you this."
"So then you paid her money? If she's the President's daughter, isn't she rich
already?"
"I didn't pay her money," Noah says, exhaling dramatically. "I paid the
photographer to delete the photos."
"A hundred grand." I whistle. "To delete photos of your hands on some chick's
boobs."
"Not some chick. The daughter of the President of the United States."
"Photos like that would give you some bragging rights - if she's not homely, I
mean," I qualify my statement. "Maybe even if she is homely. If she's the
President's daughter, that means she's famous, yeah? A minor celebrity? Thats
probably about the equivalent of a reality star, I think. Still, its some bragging
rights."
"Are you finished now?" Noah asks.
"Maybe. Do you have the photos?"
"No. They're deleted."
"How do you know they're deleted?" I ask.
"I erased them from the assholes camera. Personally."
"Did you make sure they didn't get uploaded somewhere?" I point out.
It's obvious Noah didn't think of that by the way he glares at me. "If the guy
publishes them, Ill hunt him down.
"Noah Jackson is going to go all mafia-style on his ass?"
"Shut up."
"Soheres the most important question: How were the tits?" I ask.
"I'm not talking about that with you, asshole."
"You paid a hundred grand to keep her tits out of the tabloids and you're not
going to tell me about them? You do have a crush on her."
"I don't have a crush on anyone," Noah protests. "I'm just not a total dick."
I was just calling you a dick. An image of the hot neighbor chick Grace with
her hands on her hips, leaning forward just a little so I could see the top of her
cleavage in her business suit, flashes through my mind. Shit, I've got to get that
chick out of my head. Or get her ass into my bed.
Instead, I bring my attention back to Noah and his little crush. "You've always
aimed high, I'll give you that."
Noah rolls his eyes. "I'm not getting with Grace Sullivan. First Daughters don't
get with pro football players."
Grace. I take another bite of my apple. "Huh. You know, Hot Neighbor is named
Grace, too. Funny coincidence. That would be weird if we were both hooking up
with chicks named Grace."
Noah gulps down the rest of his protein shake before turning to rinse the cup at
the sink. "I'm not hooking up with the Presidents daughter - and you're not
banging my next door neighbor, do you hear me? I don't want some crazy girl
egging my house because you screwed her and then dumped her."
"AIDEN PAUL JACKSON, I swear to God I will kill you!" Annie's voice echoes loudly
through the house over the speaker on the phone, and I hold it away from me, not
even bothering to try to hide my laughter. I know exactly why my sister is calling
me.
Noah looks up from the sofa, where he's sprawled across the entire length,
scrolling through something probably some boring article on the economy - on
his tablet. "I told you it was a bad idea. You were really asking for it this year."
"You knew about this, Noah?" Annie squeals. "Why did you let him?"
"Annie Banannie!" I interrupt. "Did you think I was going to let a birthday go
unnoticed? What kind of a big brother would I be? Admit it. You'd be upset if I
didn't do it!"
"Noah," Annie sighs exasperatedly. "Tell Aiden I'm not talking to someone who
sends a human banana to my workplace for my twenty-first birthday."
"You work at a bar," I protest. "It's probably not the first time a singing banana
has shown up there."
"It's a restaurant," Annie argues. "And you promised you wouldn't do it this
year."
"It's your twenty-first birthday!" I protest. "Noah, explain in reasonable terms
to Annie that tradition requires the singing banana and theres nothing that can be
done about it. You cant buck tradition, Annie.
"This one tap-danced, Aiden. That's completely over the line."
Noah snorts. "I'm not getting involved in this argument."
"Look, do you know how hard it is to find a tap-dancing banana in Colorado
Springs?" I ask. "I thought nothing was going to top last year's banana, but it did,
didn't it? Tell me it did. They promised a good video of it, but the clip I got was kind
of grainy and I didn't get the expression on your face."
Annie groans in frustration. You guys are such children.
"At least a banana in a bikini didn't pop out of a giant cake the way it did for
your birthday last year, Annie," Noah points out helpfully. "He really toned it down
this year."
"The banana had backup dancers," Annie protests. "With instruments. It was
practically a marching band of bananas."
"Well, you needed a reason to get good and drunk on your twenty-first birthday,
right?" Noah points out. "Your brother's embarrassing sense of humor is a good
excuse."
"You mean the way my brother continues to emotionally scar me?
Are you seeing a counselor at college? I ask. I have lots of money. I can pay
for a good shrink.
Annie ignores me. Noah, did you know about the bodyguard?
Noah cocks his head to the side as he looks at me. Really, Aiden?
Like Im going to let my kid sister go out with her girlfriends and get shitfaced
with no protection?
We had condoms! Annie yells.
I shout to drown out her words. Ahh! What the hell, Annie?? I dont need to
know about that.
"Were the bananas the bodyguards?" Noah interrupts.
"No. Unfortunately, the bodyguard refused to put on a banana outfit and sing or
tap-dance, so I had to use two separate companies. You really can't find good talent
these days."
Noah snorts as he gives me a onceover. "Truer words have never been spoken."
I feel like thats some kind of commentary about me, but Im going to ignore it.
I told you I was sending someone, Annie. He was basically a designated driver. You
should be thanking me."
"You totally cock-blocked me, Aiden!" she squeals. "Noah, tell him!"
"Okay, first of all, I'd like to go through the rest of my life without hearing my
sister use the term 'cock-blocked' ever again, thank you," I point out. "And second
of all, I don't see how me sending a bodyguard out to bars with you had any
negative impact on your evening other than getting you all home safely."
"No one wants to hit on girls surrounded by thugs in suits," Annie protests.
"Noah, back me up here."
"Well, I'm sorry that no guy was man enough to hit on you despite the suits," I
say, shaking my head and mouthing "not sorry at all" across the room at Noah.
"You're so annoying, Aiden," she tells me.
"Admit that your birthday wouldn't have been the same without the banana."
The banana has been an annual tradition since ninth grade in high school when I
rented a banana outfit to sing Happy Birthday to Annie during a sleepover with all
of her friends. Totally worth using two weeks of the money I earned mowing lawns.
She was annoyed by it, which only encouraged me to do it again the next year and
then every year after that. It's been my mission to top the banana experience each
time. It's practically my brotherly duty.
She sighs loudly. "Fine. It wouldn't be the same without the banana. But
seriously, you're going to eventually run out of ways to embarrass me, dude."
"That'll never happen, Annie Banannie.
"Yeah, he'll always be naturally embarrassing," Noah jumps in. "Happy
birthday, by the way."
"That's true," I add. "Sorry. You're stuck with being humiliated forever, just
because you're related to me."
Annie groans. "Great. Thanks for giving me something to look forward for the
rest of my life." She sighs loudly, then her voice softens. Besides, I guess mom
12
GRACE
I down several gulps of water from my bottle, my heart still racing after my run
while Vi updates me over the phone on the latest developments in her business life.
"I'm on my way to Miami," Vi informs me. "Im looking at samples for the new
line.
Last year, Vi developed her own resort wear line of clothing inspired by places
shes traveled around the world. She got good reviews and after a big Hollywood
celebrity was photographed wearing one of her designs, she was put in some
exclusive boutiques in Miami.
Send me photos?
Top Secret photos, she says. Im in Miami for a week, unless youd like me to
stay in Denver to help make sure you take advantage of the whole two hot guys
situation."
"You're such a generous person. But I'll pass, since there will be no taking
advantage of two hot guys."
Vi sighs exaggeratedly. "I saw you with one of those two hot guys, and trust me,
Noah Ashby looked like he would be more than happy to be taken advantage of,
specifically by you."
"Nothing is going to happen between me and Noah Ashby, Vi "
"You heard your father. He wants you to milk that football player for an
endorsement."
"Is that an innuendo? Because if it is, I'm not even going to dignify that with a
response."
Vi laughs. "I give the both of you a week at the ranch before Noah Ashby has you
bent over a fence.
"Who says Noah Ashby is even going to the ranch?" Suddenly, I'm suddenly
distracted by a loud buzzing noise. "What the hell?"
A remote-controlled helicopter appears above the wall between my house and
the neighbor's, a plastic object dangling from it. Oh my God. "Is that a blow-up
doll?"
"Where? What's going on? Is this your neighbor's blow up doll we're talking
about?" Vi asks.
The problem is that once I start, I can't stop. And no one else is laughing.
They're just staring at me like they're trying to figure out where they might be able
to locate the nearest straitjacket.
"Ma'am?" Brooks asks. "Are you okay?"
"Did you put something in the blow-up doll that's doing this to her?" Davis
asks. The fact that she thinks it's plausible I'm laughing because of some kind of
chemical weapon makes me laugh even harder.
"You mean, did I fill the doll up with laughing gas?" Aiden asks.
Now, I hoot. Loudly. I think there are tears coming out of my eyes.
"Shut up, dumbass," Davis says, pressing her hand into the middle of his back
again for emphasis. "This is the President's daughter you're talking about. You flew
a drone into Grace Sullivan's backyard. Why the hell did you think you were getting
patted down, anyway?"
"Well, obviously I thought I was being frisked because you saw my junk the
other day and wanted a little more personal experience with it" Aiden starts, but
Davis shoves him hard up against the wall. "All right now! Thats getting a little
rougher than I usually like it."
"You want to see rough?" Davis asks. "Keep running your mouth."
"Holy shit. This is Hot Neighbor," Noah says. "So you walked out of my house
naked in front of the President's daughter??"
"Not entirely naked!" I shriek with laughter. "He had bongos."
"Yeah, I had bongos over my junk," Aiden calls. "Did you just snort?"
I clasp my hand harder over my mouth. "I did not snort!"
"Actually, I think you snorted," Noah says.
"That was a snort, ma'am," Brooks interjects.
"That was not a snort!" I object. "I do not snort when I laugh!"
"Whatever you say, ma'am," Brooks returns.
Then the realization suddenly dawns on me. "Oh my God. Do you two live
together?" My mind is spinning. The two hot guys the two men I fantasized about
fucking me at the same time the other night are standing right in front of me.
Together.
Because they live together.
Oh. Oh, no. I might have misread things. Maybe neither of them are interested
in me because they're interested in each other. Maybe what I mistook for flirting
was their idea of humor.
My cheeks flush hot. My face must be bright red. What's redder than red?
Whatever that shade is, that's what color my face must be right now. What if they
can tell I'm attracted to both of them? Suddenly, I have the illogical thought that
my filthy fantasies are somehow written all over my face. What if they know I
touched myself thinking about being with both of them at the same time?
I might die of actual embarrassment right here and now.
"We're your new neighbors," Aiden announces.
"Yes, neighbors. Youlive together because you're together." I say, my voice
Noah rolls his eyes. "I'm sure she's interested in a guy whose idea of romance is
flying a blow-up doll into her backyard."
"You mean romance like tearing off her dress and getting photographed
grabbing her tits?" Aiden asks.
Noah starts to respond, but I interrupt the bro-argument, annoyed by the
increasing amount of testosterone on display. Okay, I might be more annoyed by
the very small part of me that might possibly find all of this testosterone slightly
attractive, especially since their caveman attitudes are so over the top that they
should disgust me. What I need to do is start thinking with my brain and not my
hoo-hah.
And my brain is definitely irritated right now. I clear my throat, shoving aside
the part of me thats attracted to them. "Excuse me? I'm pretty sure I get a say in
this, since you're discussing me like I'm not even here. And in case you're
wondering, I'm not some kind of prize for the two of you to compete over."
"We weren't saying you were a prize, exactly," Noah attempts to clarify.
"But if we were competing, the obvious choice would be me," Aiden notes. Im
the hot one.
Shut up, asshole, Noah growls.
I don't bother to stifle my groan. "You sent blow-up dolls to my house and then
answered your door naked when I brought them back to you."
Aiden grins, clearly pleased with himself. "Yeah, I did."
"And you," I say, pointing at Noah. "You ripped my gown and put your hands on
my breasts at a charity event!"
"Well, hell, when you put it that way, it just sounds awkward," Noah answers.
"Actually, it sounds more like assault," Aiden clarifies. Pretty sure thats a
crime.
I turn back toward him. "Says the guy who flew a drone into my backyard?"
"Drone makes it sound all nefarious and shit.
Big word. Did you get that from a word-of-the-day calendar? Noah glares at
Aiden.
Ive learned lots of big words that way, Aiden says, making a hmph sound. It
was a remote-controlled helicopter, really. An expensive one, but still."
"I feel like we're not presenting our best selves here," Noah notes.
"Speak for yourself," Aiden says. "I'm coming off just fine."
From behind me, Brooks snorts loudly. "If you think this is 'just fine,' I'm
curious to see what 'terrible' is."
"Look, sweetheart, I'm doing you a favor by donating my ranch to your charity,"
Noah grumbles.
"Oh, sure, go for the whole good-guy-donates-to-charity thing," Aiden jabs
sarcastically.
I bristle at his words. "Doing me a favor? Well, I guess I should be grateful that
you're doing me a favor after groping me in public."
"You asked for that one." Aiden whistles low, raising his eyebrows as he looks at
Noah, whose face reddens. "I can't believe you called her sweetheart."
"Says the guy who called me sugar tits on meeting me?"
"In my defense, I didn't know you were the President's daughter."
"Somehow I doubt that would have changed anything." I turn to Noah, my
irritation only increasing. "You can keep your favor, and you can keep your ranch.
And you can keep your hands-on approach to charity, too, because spending time
with you on a ranch, even if its for deserving kids, isnt worth it at all.
"Youre going to your ranch with her? Aiden asks. His nostrils flare, and for a
second, I think I see a look of possessiveness cross his face. The problem is, instead
of turning me off which is how the logical part of me would react the expression
sends a thrill of arousal rushing through me. But I shake off that feeling, crossing
my arms as Noah gives Aiden a look of pure fury.
"Not anymore. Right now, I'm going back into my house where I'm going to
have a cup of tea, read the newspaper, and forget all about the fact that two of the
most immature men I've ever met have disrupted my life the way they have over
the past week."
I dont wait for a response before turning to walk away, aware that Im
practically flouncing away from two professional athletes with bodies made for sin,
both of whom apparently find me attractive. I try not to think about either of them
when I go into my empty house and make my cup of tea, or when I flip through the
newspaper. I definitely try not to think about the fact that I just threw a bit of a fit
and angrily rejected Noahs donation of his ranch for the summer camp that starts
in exactly one week. And I try not to think of the fact that Im going to have to eat
crow and apologize to him in order to get the ranch back.
I totally lost my cool out there and let my temper get the better of me. I cant
remember the last time that happened. Im usually calm and collected, no matter
what, but these two men seem to get me flustered. But honestly, where does Noah
Ashby get off with the snide comment about doing me a favor by donating his
ranch? After what happened at the charity event, that's certainly the least he could
do.
You know that having Noah's hands on your breasts wasn't exactly the worst
thing in the world to ever have happened to you.
A tingle of arousal spreads through me at the memory of Noah's warm hands
cupping my breasts, at the way my nipples immediately hardened in response to
his calloused palms, at the heat that rushed through my body at his touch.
He really was doing you a favor by donating his ranch, and besides, he made the
donation before the charity event, which means it had nothing to do with what
happened.
Even so, the way he said it I was doing you a favor got under my skin.
He did pay a hundred thousand dollars to get rid of those photographs.
But getting rid of the photos of Noah groping me was definitely in his selfinterest. It was hardly just a gentlemanly gesture. Photos like that could ruin his
career, especially if he's trying to stay away from negative press. The thought of
those pictures making their way into the newspapers makes me shudder. I can't
even imagine the scandal that would cause for me and him - and for my father.
Still, the two of them also talked about competing for me, like I'm some kind of
prize at the county fair. The very idea of two men fighting for me is the dumbest,
most lame-ass macho thing I've ever heard.
Right. That's exactly why you fantasized about it the other night - because it's
just so lame.
I try my best to shove the thoughts out of my head. What I need to do is focus on
work. Obsessing over two athletes who seem to have a knack for making me lose
my cool is the last thing on Earth I need to be doing.
13
NOAH
"DO I need to search you?" the Secret Service agent asks the question, her
expression cold.
"Do you usually search people who have meetings with Ms. Sullivan?" I ask. I
actually don't know the answer to that question. Maybe the agents do search
everyone Grace Sullivan comes into contact with at the foundation. I feel a sudden
pang of sympathy for her. That would be a hell of an awkward way to go through
your life, with everyone around you being patted down before they even get close to
you. But I guess shed probably be used to it by now.
The agent raises her eyebrows, the rest of her face unmoving. "She doesn't
usually meet with people who have been involved in public incidents with her."
Heavy emphasis on the words public incidents. As if I was going to forget
what happened at the charity event or in front of my house, although that really
was Aiden's fault, not mine.
I don't point out the fact that I don't exactly have an appointment with Grace.
It's too late, because her secretary notices that for me. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashby. I
just don't have you in her appointment books. But I'd be happy to pencil you in for
"
The office door swings open before the secretary finishes speaking and Grace
Sullivan stands in the middle of the door. She's wearing a conservative suit a
plain black jacket and skirt with a white Oxford shirt with her brown hair pulled
back into a ponytail. On anyone else, it would look businesslike professional and
unflattering, even. But the suit seems to be made for Grace Sullivan, cut to cling to
her hourglass figure, the stark color of the suit somehow managing to set off the
green in her eyes.
When she sees me, those green eyes go wide for half a second and her lips fall
open slightly. I think I hear her inhale sharply, but those are the only reactions of
surprise she exhibits before her jaw clenches and a veil of disinterest falls over her
face.
"Noah Ashby." Her tone is frosty. "I'm surprised to see you here. I'm sure you
have better things to do with your time than do me any favors by dropping by the
foundation."
Okay, so she definitely hasn't forgotten about what I said. I clear my throat,
suddenly self-conscious in front of her secretary and the Secret Service agents, far
too aware that I was a shithead, telling her I was doing her a favor by donating the
ranch. I came across as a spoiled celebrity, one of those assholes who demand a
dressing room with only blue M&Ms in the candy dish.
"Wait. I know I don't have an appointment, and you probably have other things
to do." Probably? Of course she has other things to do. She runs a foundation.
"Shit. I don't mean probably. You definitely have other things to do. But I wanted
to come here and apologize."
Grace raises her eyebrows. Okay, she's definitely not having any of the apology.
I clear my throat. Fuck, this is embarrassing. I can't remember the last time I
apologized for something. "I know, you're probably wondering what exactly Im
apologizing for. Am I apologizing for the comment about doing you a favor? Or the
whole blow-up doll incident? Or the
Grace's face pales. "You know, outside of my office isn't really the place for "
Her assistant clears her throat. "Ms. Sullivan, if you'd like, I can pencil Mr.
Ashby in for another time."
"I didn't mean to come in here and talk about blow-up dolls."
I think I hear the Secret Service agent chuckle, but Grace's face flushes pink. I
can't tell if she's mad. Are her nostrils flaring?
"Stop talking," she says, her voice tight.
"Shit. None of that came out right. I'm really not normally an idiot, even though
I seem to be when I'm around you." I exhale heavily. "You know what? Yes. Pencil
me in for another time."
"Excellent, Mr. Ashby. If I can just "
Grace's expression softens as she looks at me, and she puts her hand up,
stopping the secretary. "Janice, could you hold my next appointment?"
"Ms. Sullivan, you know how "
Grace gives her a look. "Just for a few minutes."
"Absolutely, ma'am."
I follow her into her office and start talking as soon as the office door closes
behind me, oblivious to anything else. "Look, I'm man enough to apologize when I
say something out of bounds. I don't know why, but I'm driven by a need to have
this girl not think I'm a total moron or a narcissistic celebrity jackass even
though I seem to wind up acting like both when I'm around her. And I don't know
why I said I was doing you a favor by donating the ranch, because it's not true..."
"Noah, I think you should know that "
Grace. I cut her off before she can continue because I know that if I don't spit
my apology out right now, I'm going to be so distracted by the fact that she's
standing here less than a foot away from me, looking up at me the way she's doing
right now with her wide eyes and plump, perfectly kissable lips, and Oh hell,
what was I doing again? That's right. I was apologizing. "You're really doing me a
favor, letting me donate the ranch. I need the good publicity."
Shit. Why did I say that?
I do need the good press, that's true. It's why my agent suggested I do
something with a charity right now. But my ranch is my refuge during off-season. I
can count on one hand the number of visitors I've had there. Even Aiden knows not
to bug me when I go there to hide out. When I found out about the summer camp
that Grace's foundation runs, I wanted to do it because it was a cool cause.
Except now this girl thinks I'm an asshole who only cares about his public
image.
Grace blanches. "The good publicity. Right. You're up for contract renewal. Of
course."
"That's not what I meant, exactly. Fuck, I'm not saying what I mean here."
"It's okay," she says. "Aiden already explained."
"Explained what?" Aiden talked to her already?
Grace's cheeks flush pink, giving her this glow that automatically makes me
think of sex. Hell, everything about this girl makes me think about how much I
want my hands on her.
"I explained that you're in the middle of negotiating contracts." Aiden steps
into view from where he's apparently been standing on the other side of the office.
What the hell is he doing here?
"So you explained that I'm donating the ranch to help my contract
negotiations?" I have to ball my hands into fists at my side to keep from slugging
Aiden. I swear, if he weren't my best friend, he'd be dead right now. The best friend
part of things is beginning to be questionable, too.
"He didn't say that, exactly," Grace says, smiling at Aiden. When she looks at
him, it sends a rush of possessiveness through me. "He explained that the ranch is
really important to you and that it was a big deal for you to donate it for the
summer."
"Did you? I ask, my voice flat. I don't like the fact that he and Grace have been
in here talking, and I like it less that Aiden had time with her to explain my motives
for anything.
"Well, not really. I told her you're basically a hermit with no social skills, and
that you don't let anyone near your ranch."
I glare at Aiden, until Grace looks at me. When her eyes meet mine, I swear
there's something between us, the same magnetic pull I felt that night at the
charity event when I nearly pressed my lips to hers. "I'm not a hermit," I say
lamely.
A smile tugs at the edges of Grace's lips. "It's okay. I completely overreacted.
The real truth is, you are doing me a huge favor by donating the ranch and your
time - and the foundation is grateful for it." Her face colors again. "I'm really
grateful for it. Personally, I mean. If you are donating your time. I don't mean to
assume that you're still interested in showing up at the camp or that you were
even interested in donating your time to begin with before my father put you on the
spot."
"I told her you may not have time, what with all of your other obligations,"
Aiden interrupts.
"My other obligations?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.
"Aiden explained how busy you are with training
"Im not." I glare at Aiden. "Although I appreciate Aiden looking out for my
time commitments."
Aiden grins. "No problem, man. Don't mention it. I told her I'd be happy to
donate my time in your place."
"That's shocking." If Aiden thinks for one second that Im going to let him
cock-block me and make a move on this girl at my own ranch, he doesnt know me
at all.
Grace's brow furrows. "If there's a problem "
"There's no problem," I insist. "I actually don't have any other commitments
that conflict with the summer camp. I'm happy to take a more personal, hands-on
approach with the charity."
I look meaningfully at Grace, whose eyes widen. She takes a corner of her lip
between her teeth and in that moment, I know she's thinking about what
happened between us. Aiden has no chance with her. I watch her swallow hard.
"Um, yes. Right. Your contributions both of your contributions are extremely
generous."
"Well, both of us are really good at being hands-on," Aiden adds, winking.
Then Grace looks at him and does the lip-biting thing again. The fact that she
does it when she looks at Aiden makes me unreasonably annoyed. She moves to
tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, the gesture self-conscious, even though there's
not a single hair out of place. "Um. Hands-on. Both of you. Exactly. So" She
clears her throat and takes a deep breath, her expression settling into one that's
completely professional, her tone businesslike. "The kids would really respond to
two famous athletes spending any time at all with them. It would be a great way of
kicking off the inaugural camp session and I think it might encourage other
athletes or celebrities to get involved, too."
"So it's settled. Two weeks at the ranch," Aiden says.
"Two weeks?" Grace asks. "Oh, no. I didn't expect that you would be there for
the entire time. I figured you could show up and give them a motivational speech,
14
GRACE
"U m, yes. I just need a few minutes before the meeting, please?" My words are
coming out rushed, like I've just downed four shots of espresso, and I can't
seem to make them slow down so I sound like a halfway normal person. Is Janice
looking at me weird? She's totally looking at me weird.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" Janice asks, her brow furrowing. "You look a little
flushed. I heard there's something going around. I can get you some Vitamin C if
you'd like. Or maybe a cup of tea?"
"Okay. I'm okay. I'm totally fine. I think it's allergies. It must be allergies. I just
need a minute. Sixty seconds. A few minutes, maybe." I turn around and dart back
into my office before she can say anything else, closing and locking the door behind
me before collapsing back against it.
Oh my God. I hear myself breathe the words aloud. They sound like they're
coming out of someone else's mouth, throaty and hoarse.
I stand there, my back against the door, my chest heaving. Every cell in my body
seems like it's on high alert, every inch of me so turned on that I don't think it's
possible for me to catch my breath. My arms are dotted with goose pimples, my
nipples hard inside my bra.
I don't even think about what I do next before I do it. I yank the sides of my skirt
up over my hips, completely disregarding the nagging little voice inside my head
that asks me what the hell I'm about to do right now in my office, when Janice and
Secret Service agents are right outside and I'm already late for a meeting.
I practically stumble as I walk to my desk, drunk with lust, my palm landing flat
on a pile of papers that slips forward, sending pages scattering to the floor on the
other side. Normally, I would care about the fact that I just sent what are probably
important documents hurtling to the ground. Of course, normally I would have
better control of myself. Normally, I wouldn't be so consumed with lust for two
men two men! that I yank my panties down over my hips in the middle of my
office.
It's just that Aiden lighthearted Aiden with his inappropriate humor and
playful charm - showed up at my office offering to attend the summer camp,
looking like he was daring me to object as his eyes drank in every inch of me. And
"I DONT KNOW what's gotten into you, but I love the new Grace. I wish I were there to
see it in person."
"There's no New Grace, Vi," I protest into the phone, flipping a page of the
newspaper even though I've read nothing on it. The words are a blur, the large
block print of the headlines melting together to become undecipherable. My
evening routine involves reading several newspapers it's old-fashioned, given
that all of the news is online now, but I like it except that tonight I've been
staring at the same newspaper for an hour without seeing a single word on the
pages.
"Are you sure about that?" Vi asks.
Am I sure? Hell, no.
I agreed to spend two weeks on a ranch with two of the hottest, most available
professional athletes in the world, one of whom I've seen nearly naked and the
other of whom has had his hands on my breasts. I've now had too many fantasies
about both of them fucking me at the same time to be in any way normal, and
the other day I had to shut my office door behind me to masturbate thirty seconds
after they left because I couldn't contain myself.
I don't even know where the hell Old Grace the girl who has been functioning
just fine on a diet of all work and no sex is right now. New Grace seems to have
taken over my body.
"Totally sure," I lie.
"Because it seems to me that New Grace could be a bit of a ho," Vi jokes.
"I am not!" I protest, trying to suppress the image that flashes into my head of
me bent over my desk, finger-fucking myself to the thought of Aiden and Noah
both taking me. "I only agreed to this because it's a good idea for the charity. Two
professional athletes at the camp will be great for the kids. They're going to love
it."
"Right. This has nothing to do with having the hots for those professional
athletes."
"Okay," I admit, my voice faltering. "This thing on the ranch might be the worst
idea ever. What's gotten into me?"
Vi snorts. "Well, it's obvious what you'd like to get into you..."
"I don't want either of them getting into me, thank you very much. They're
completely inappropriate. Aiden flew a blow-up doll over my house because he
wanted to get my attention!"
"It worked, didn't it? I mean, he already grabbed your attention pretty well when
he answered the door naked, let's be honest."
"Sure, Aiden is attractive. Obviously. He's all ripped and tattooed and he
definitely has a bad boy thing going, but "
"So does Noah," Vi points out.
"Noah is different." Noah isn't over-the-top the way Aiden is, the one who's
clearly used to women throw themselves at him. He's quieter than Aiden, more
intense. When I think about the way he looked at me that night of the event, like he
15
AIDEN
"O h my Lord," Mama Ashby says, her hand flying to her mouth.
She stands in the middle of the living room in the same tiny split-level
house she and her husband Paul have lived in for the past forty years. Noah
periodically tries to buy them a new house, but they refuse every time. Bess Ashby
jokingly accuses him of trying to get them to settle in a retirement village full of old
people, and we're not old!"
"Do you like it?" Annie pauses just inside the living room.
"Where did half of your hair go? And did you fall into a vat of fruit punch?" Bess
wipes her flour-covered hands across the front of her apron, giving Annie a halfamused, half-appalled glare.
Annie grins, pleased with herself for eliciting the reaction from Bess, practically
running across the room and dodging four yippy Jack Russell terriers to throw her
arms around the woman. "It's cute, right?" she asks, her hand going to her head.
I roll my eyes. "Cute isn't exactly the word I'd use."
"Shut up, Aiden. You're so old, how would you know what's hot right now? I like
it and my friends like it. Annie sticks her tongue out at me.
Super mature, Banannie.
"It's verypink," Mama Ashby observes, looking at me from across the room,
her eyebrows raised. I give her a what-can-you-do gesture, then return to surfing
the internet on my phone. Noah sits on the other side of the room, half-sprawled
across the sofa because that's about all of him that can fit on the furniture,
pointedly ignoring me. Ever since the whole Grace Sullivan thing, he's been cranky
as hell.
"Thanks! I figured I'd try something different."
"I need a change, too," Bess says, laughing. "Should I go pink?" She pats her
greying hair, pulled back into a bun on the top of her head.
"Definitely," Annie says. "Paul would love it. He's cool. He has tattoos and
works at a garage. You could rock the pink hair, Bess."
Bess laughs warmly. "Those tattoos are from his Navy days back when he was
eighteen years old. Can you imagine? I'd be the only one at the Thursday night
bridge game with pink hair."
Annie wanders over to the kitchen counter and picks through baked goods. "Did
you make raisin bread for me?"
"Of course I did," Mama Ashby says, "Five loaves. Just in case your brother and
Noah want a little light snack."
"Light snack," Annie scoffs. "You need to watch your weight, big brother."
"Whatever. I'm in my prime."
Even if I were watching my weight, I'd throw that right out the window with
Mama Ashby's cooking in play. She's always been of the belief that family dinners
and a good dessert could solve most any problem, which is why come hell or high
water, Noah, Annie and I are required to come back to West Bend for monthly
dinners. I missed last month the first time in a year and got an earful from
Bess.
"You know I made apple pie for after dinner," Bess calls from the kitchen.
"Did Aiden tell you what he did for my birthday?" Annie asks. She leans back
against the counter, biting into a piece of raisin bread.
"Are you going to just eat that right in front of me?" I yell. "Why don't you get
me some while you're up?"
"You're so lazy, Aiden," she calls back. "Get up and make a piece of toast
yourself."
"Just toss the rest of the loaf of bread at me. You know I'm going to eat it
anyway."
"Were you raised in a barn, Aiden Jackson?" Bess stands with her hands on her
hips, her expression stern but her eyes twinkling, indicating shes not at all angry.
I immediately jump up anyhow, crossing the kitchen to kiss her on the cheek.
No maam.
She swats me on the arm. Dont you forget your manners just because youre
rich and famous now.
I grab my sisters toast from her hand before she can object and shove half of it
in my mouth, jumping backwards when she tries to hit me. He doesnt have any
manners! Annie yells.
I have tons of manners, I protest, but it comes out more like mmph-mmphmmph because my mouth is full of bread.
Youre so gross, Annie says.
Your sons angling to be the rich one, I say, glancing at Noah, whos
apparently too engrossed with what hes doing on his tablet to pay attention to us.
I settled for my contract already.
He says he settled, Mama Ashby says, rolling her eyes. She passes me in the
kitchen, swatting me on the ass with a wooden spoon. We should all be as lucky to
settle for getting paid millions of dollars to do what we love.
That did sound spoiled, didnt it? I ask, laughing.
Uh, yeah, Annie says. Wheres my birthday present, anyway?
I have no idea what youre talking about, I lie.
You stole my toast and now youre reneging on my birthday present? Some
across the room at Noah. "What are you doing over there ignoring everyone?"
"I was going to say hi, but you didn't let me get a word in edgewise," Noah says.
"These two are fighting about something," Bess says, giving Paul a look.
"No one's fighting about anything," Noah roars.
Bess raises her eyebrows. "Uh-huh."
"Oh, Lord." Paul rolls his eyes. "Don't break anything."
"We're not going to get injured," I assure him.
"I wasn't worried about you two. I was worried about my furniture."
"Thanks for the concern, dad," Noah calls as his father heads off to clean up.
Paul and Bess are fixtures in West Bend, Colorado. They were born and raised
here, and Paul has been running the only auto repair shop around for thirty miles
since he finished his enlistment in the Navy when he was twenty-two. Noah was
supposed to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business, but it was
pretty clear mid-way through high school, after the football team won our second
state championship and Noah and I were identified as rising stars, that Noah
wasn't heading in the same direction as his father. Luckily, his sister Denise turned
out to have a knack for auto repair and was perfectly happy taking the mantle not
that Paul is ever going to stop working. The man will probably keep working until
he keels over.
"Where's Denise?" I ask.
"She and Ed had to drive over to Gunnison for an OB appointment. They're all
nervous because this is their first baby. Wanted to get some fancy OB doctor over
there instead of Dr. Allen, even though Dr. Allen's been delivering babies for the
last thirty years. Delivered both of you and you turned out just fine." She shakes
her head and makes a tsk-tsk sound before she gets distracted by the image of the
President and First Lady on the television in the living room.
"You know, he came through Denver last week," Bess says, nodding toward the
television where a video clip plays of the First Couple waving to a crowd at some
kind of political event. "I'm voting for the other guy. I've never much cared for
either of them. I've always thought he was just kind of smug. I know people say
she's so fashionable and all, but she's always seemed off to me. Cold."
Noah grunts. "Exactly."
"Noah met him," I tell her.
"The President?? Noah Ashby, you're lying here on the sofa like nothing's going
on, when you met the President of the United States?"
"I thought you didn't care for him," Noah says.
"That doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it! Bess exclaims. "I swear, the
two of you with your celebrity lives, do you think us mere mortals don't want to
know who you're hobnobbing with?"
"It's not a big deal," Noah grumbles.
"We're working with his daughter on a charity thing," I say, unable to resist
riling Noah up since he's had such an attitude problem when it comes to this. I
guess I'm not all pissed off - because I'm confident in my ability to land Grace
16
NOAH
What were they thinking, giving these kids ice cream? I dont know jack shit
about kids, but even I know that giving sugar to twenty kids and turning them loose
to set up campsites is a recipe for disaster. There are four camp counselors trying to
establish order in a field a few hundred yards away from my house the area I
designated for the campsite.
Aiden and I spent most of lunch hotdogs and burgers fielding questions from
a bunch of kids, some of whom were super excited we were here and some who
didnt know who the hell we were. I preferred the kids who didnt know who the
hell we were. The camp only started today, but already I think Ive answered more
questions than I did from reporters all last season.
I glance back at the house, wondering if anyone would notice if I ditched the tiny
terrors out here and caught a workout in the gym. Or shit, just enjoyed ten minutes
of silence.
Grace Sullivan has been all business since she got here. Professional doesnt
even begin to describe her attitude. Shes been cool as a cucumber ever since Aiden
and I met with her in her office. There were a few times the past few days when she
called me personally to ask questions about the ranch, questions that I could swear
an assistant could have asked. I thought she was calling because there was
something between us, but even during those calls she was all business. When she
introduced Aiden and I at the beginning of the camp, it was like we were any other
celebrities.
There was one moment after she finished the introductions, however, when that
she met my gaze and something passed between us. It was enough to make her
cheeks flush, but that was the only hint I was given that she might be attracted to
me.
Fortunately, Im not the only one whos been kept at arms length. Aiden hasnt
gotten any alone time with her, and thats how its going to stay if I have anything
to say about it. The camp counselors are all required to camp outside with the kids,
but I generously opened the main house to Grace and the field house to the
support staff who needed space during the week but wouldnt be staying overnight.
Grace started to protest that it wasnt necessary and that she usually stays with the
support staff, but her security detail stepped in and said that it was a better setup
from a security point of view.
Score one for the Secret Service agents.
A boy darts past me with a bunch of tent spikes in his hand, and I grab him by
the back of the shirt. He looks up at me. Dude.
Dude, I repeat, letting go of him. Anyone ever tell you not to run with
scissors?
Uh, these arent scissors.
Yeah, theyre spikes, Louis, I correct, reading the name tag on his shirt. And
Im pretty sure thats worse.
Why?
You want to trip and fall and get a spike through the eye?
That would be gnarly.
I roll my eyes. Wheres your tent?
He shrugs. I dont know.
Youre just running around with a bunch of tent spikes for no reason?
That kid has it. I paired up with him. He points to a nerdy blond kid with
glasses twenty yards away whos holding a tent and looking like a stiff wind could
knock him over.
I exhale heavily. Have you ever been camping?
No.
Where are your counselors?
He shrugs and points to a counselor helping a pair of kids with a tent. Then he
turns back to me and asks, Do you know how to set up a tent?
At the same time, I catch a glimpse of Aiden on the other side of the field,
walking toward Grace. Shes squatting down in her jeans and cowgirl boots the
most inauthentic bright red boots ever, but the second I saw her in them, I couldnt
help but think of her in nothing but those boots. She smiles as she talks to a kid.
When Aiden reaches her, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and directs that
smile toward him.
Walk over and take Grace out of Aidens hands or help a couple of kids set up a
tent? It isnt even a question.
Inwardly I groan; outwardly, I sigh. Ah, shit. Yeah, I know how to set up a
tent.
Dont sound so happy, Louis says. Are you a camp counselor? Youre not
supposed to cuss.
How old are you? I ask.
Ten.
Im pretty sure your ears arent going to fall off if you hear the word shit.
Youre kind of an ass, he notes as we walk. All right, these kids might not be
so bad after all.
"Did you just call me an ass?"
That's what my mom calls people sometimes when they cut in front of her in
traffic. Who are you, anyway?
Im a football player.
He looks at me with his nose wrinkled. You dont look like a football player.
Whats that supposed to mean? What the hell do you think a football player
looks like?
Rich, he says, matter-of-fact, as we get to the campsite. The twiggy little
blond kid is standing beside a pile of tarp and various supplies, looking helpless.
And I dont look rich?
Louis shrugs.
Whoa, the blond kid breathes, looking at me with wide eyes. I know who you
are.
I look at Louis. See? Told you. Im famous.
The blond kid, Spencer, as I note from his nametag, nods. Youre on that TV
show.
Youre on a TV show? Louis blurts. Well, why didnt you say that?
Because Im not on a TV show, I grumble. Howd I wind up paired with the
only two kids here who dont know who I am? Werent you paying attention when
they introduced us earlier?
Louis shrugs for the fifteenth time. Not really. I get bored a lot.
Spencer interrupts. Yeah, I remember that other guy over there. Hes a football
player, he says, pointing to Aiden.
Were both football players. Famous ones, I say, exhaling heavily in
exasperation. I glance at Aiden on the other side of the field, whos standing way
too close to Grace to be appropriate.
Do you know thats President Sullivans daughter? Spencer asks, oblivious to
my frustration. President Sullivan has been in office for eight hundred and
eighty-two days. Hes married to Katherine Sullivan, and they have a dog named
Ruffles.
What, are you an encyclopedia? I ask.
I had to do a report last week, Spencer replies. Whats an encyclopedia?
Its a reference book. People look stuff up in encyclopedias when they want to
learn about things.
You mean like asking Siri? Spencer looks at me blankly.
I exhale heavily. Yeah. Exactly like that.
Louis looks at me, his nose wrinkled again. You see those other counselors?
They seem nicer than you.
Theyre smiling more, agrees Spencer.
Are you here because youre doing community service or something? asks
Louis as he bends over and begins to pull out a tent. My moms ex-boyfriend had
to do community service once. But he picked up trash at a park.
This is my ranch, smartass. I grab the tent from the mouthy kids hands. You
guys are my guests.
17
GRACE
Y oure good with the kids, I note, trying to sound casual as I wipe my palms on
my jeans not just because theyre dirty but because Im slightly nervous being
around Aiden now that weve finished setting up the tent. Aiden took over,
teaching the two kids how to pitch the tent while cracking jokes that made all of us
laugh. The second they were finished, Niall and Drew ran off to tell their camp
counselors they were done, leaving Aiden and I standing here alone.
Well, as alone as you can be in a field with twenty kids running around and a
bunch of camp counselors. Im definitely aware of that fact when I take a step back
from Aiden, putting a respectable amount of distance between me and the toohandsome athlete, whos the epitome of small-town sexy in his blue t-shirt and
faded jeans. He and Noah both look at home here on the ranch, not at all like you'd
think a couple of football players or celebrities would look plunked down in the
middle of Nowhere, Colorado, although I guess that's not surprising, since this is
Noah's ranch, after all.
I have a pain-in-the-ass younger sister, Aiden says. He runs his hand
through his hair and shrugs.
I laugh. I can definitely see you as a pain-in-the-ass older brother, I say.
How old is she?
Twenty-one. Shell be a senior next year in college.
You and Noah grew up in Colorado, right?
Did you read up on us? Aiden asks, a wide grin spreading across his face.
Actually, I didnt, I admit. I remain blissfully ignorant about both of you.
Because youre not interested, or because youd rather get to know us
personally? Aiden asks.
The way he asks the question is unmistakably sexual, and the us part of the
question doesnt escape my attention. Reflexively, I glance to the other side of the
field where Noah is helping a couple of kids with their campsite.
Youd like to get to know Aiden and Noah very personally.
I clear my throat. I have this thing about not getting intel on people I meet in
real life.
Intel from your security?
congressman, Governor of Colorado You name it, my fathers done it. Political
royalty thats what they call my family."
Aiden grunts. "I don't really follow politics."
"Well, I gathered that much when you didn't know who I was when you met
me," I tease.
Aiden looks down at the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt.
"Yeah."
Is he embarrassed, and why do I find that so endearing?
"It's okay, you know."
"Noah stays on top of political stuff. It's never really been my thing."
"Most of the people I meet are way too into politics," I admit. "They want to talk
to me about my dad, or about the foundation, or want an edge somehow with their
political career, or their causes."
"Yeah?" Aiden asks. "I guess it's the same with football. The only people I meet
are fans."
"So I know nothing about football and you know nothing about politics. What
are we going to talk about for two weeks?"
Aiden turns toward me, the proximity too close to be simply friendly. My heart
races as I look at him, and I tell myself to step back away from him before someone
out here sees us and gets the wrong impression or the right one. But for some
reason, I can't make myself back away. "Talking wasn't on my list of priorities."
The look he gives me is sheer lust animalistic, primal, I'm-going-to-devouryou lust. Even as warmth rushes through my body in response to his words, I try to
muster the wherewithal to rebuff him. I clear my throat. "I hope you didn't come
here with the intent to do anything but talk, Mr. Jackson," I say. My words sound
false even to me.
Aiden chuckles. "I'll talk. He steps forward, his lips near my ear. "In fact, I'll
tell you exactly what I want to do to you.
I step back from him, my heart racing. There's a damn good chance my face is as
red as the shade of the boots I'm wearing. "I thought I made myself clear when you
and Noah signed up to join me at the ranch," I state primly. "Nothing's going to
happen that's unprofessional or inappropriate."
Aiden grins. "I think you're the first woman to play hard-to-get with me ever."
I bristle at his arrogance, despite my body's obvious attraction to him. "First of
all, I'm not playing hard-to-get, because this isn't a game."
Aiden doesn't seem put off at all by my statement. "It's definitely a
competition."
"Second of all," I continue. "I find it hard to believe that all women throw
themselves at you. Wait what do you mean, it's a competition?"
"You find it hard to believe that women throw themselves at me? With all this I
have going on?" he asks, gesturing to himself.
I roll my eyes. "Your humility is admirable."
"No reason to be humble when you're honest, sugar. And you're not being
18
NOAH
"O of, Grace lets out a sigh under her breath as she rounds the corner in the
hallway and collides with me. When she falls against my chest, my hands go
This time, theres no mistaking the sound that leaves her mouth as anything but
absolutely sexual. She definitely moaned the second my lips touched her neck,
thats for sure. I slide my hands around her back, moving lower until I cup her curvy
ass. My hands linger there and I pull her against my hardness.
Noah, she whispers, pressing her hand against my chest. I cant tell if shes
encouraging me or protesting.
Grace, I echo. Im two seconds from picking you up and carrying you to my
room and using the rest of that chocolate sauce to paint your naked body.
Noah, I cant-
You didnt let me finish. Then Im going to lick you from head to toe. Or toe to
head. Either one. Ill give you the choice.
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesnt move from my arms. She just looks up at
me with big green eyes and perfectly lush lips that are practically begging to be
kissed. I shouldnt.
Because its not professional?
No. I mean yes. Its not professional, she protests. Then her voice drops to a
whisper. It's just that Im attracted to you and A-
Hey Noah, I-
Aiden. That fucker.
Grace jumps away from me like shes just been electrocuted. Aiden stands in the
doorway looking at me through narrowed eyes, but I dont give a shit whether he
saw Grace and I together or not. In fact, I hope he saw us together, because Im
staking my claim on this girl.
I should go clean up, Grace says quickly. The chocolate sauce. Noah and I are
into each other I mean, we ran into each other. She laughs nervously. We
forgot the chocolate bars for the smores for the kids outside. I found the chocolate
syrup in your refrigerator. I thought it might work in a pinch.
A sly smile spreads across Aidens face. Hey Noah, I was just trying to find you
to tell you your package arrived.
What package?
Aiden looks at me meaningfully, his eyebrows raised. You know. The one with
the prescription cream for your He nods his head, gesturing toward my crotch.
Sores.
Grace clears her throat. Im just going to um go change.
That jackass.
I didnt want to say anything in you know. Aidens voice drops to a whisper
before he continues: Mixed company.
Hes obviously screwing around, I say quickly, glancing at Grace, who looks
increasingly uncomfortable. You cant take anything he says seriously. I glare at
him. Hes not a serious person.
Im pretty sure that your doctor told you that the sores are no joke, Aiden
insists, his expression earnest.
Um Ill see you both later. Grace slips out of the room before I can offer any
other explanation for Aidens stupidity, although Id think his stupidity would be
self-evident by now.
Really? Cream for my sores? Thats the kind of juvenile shit youre resorting to
now?
Aiden grins. I prefer the term creativity.
Well, Id prefer to beat your ass.
Dont get all worked up just because Grace thinks that your junk is a petri
dish, Aiden says, laughing.
Thats real funny from someone whos probably screwed half the women in
Colorado.
I think you mean that its real ironic.
Big word for a small brain.
I know. Its a good thing I have my looks and my giant cock to make up for my
low IQ.
As long as you keep your cock away from Grace.
Aiden laughs. Thats not going to happen, Noah. You make your moves on her.
Ill make mine. Im sure shell choose the best man. By best man, I obviously mean
me.
AFTER CHANGING, I go out to the campfire mostly because Im hoping to get a chance to
tell Grace that I do not in fact have a sexually transmitted disease. Or any disease at
all.
Except for my best friend Aiden. Hes like a growth I cant get rid of.
I dont get to talk to Grace at the fire, though. Neither does Aiden, which is a
small consolation. Grace is preoccupied with helping the kids roast marshmallows
either that, or shes making a distinct effort to avoid Aiden and I. I think it might
be the latter.
She doesnt make eye contact with me when I pass her. She doesnt actually
think that what Aiden said was true, does she?
After smores, I head back to the ranch house. Grace stays behind to talk to the
camp counselors. I try to avoid thinking any more about the incident with Grace
earlier. The incident. Like its some kind of tragic experience.
Kissing chocolate sauce off of Graces neck was about as far from a tragic
experience as Ive ever gotten. That moan she let out gave me the impression that
it was the same for her.
Of course, Aidens whole prescription cream bullshit could have changed
things.
I shove that thought aside as I go out to the large deck that wraps around the
upstairs bedrooms on the side of the house. The deck is one of my favorite things
about the ranch house. During the day, you can see for miles out across the
meadows to the rolling hills in every direction. In the winter, when the countryside
boy.
I didnt have as nice of a telescope as this, though, thats for sure, she notes.
The White House doesnt have a telescope?
Well, I stayed in Colorado when my dad got elected President, so I havent lived
at the White House. Ive only visited, Grace notes. I cant remember there being
one, but my dad has hosted astronomy nights on the south lawn for the past three
years.
Huh. I didnt know that.
She laughs. He gets really excited about them. I flew in for the first one they
put on. Its all these kids little geniuses who are way smarter than me running
around mixing with scientists and astronomers. Theyre all so thrilled to be at the
White House and meeting the President, but what they dont know is that my dad
completely geeks out about it himself. The morning after the first astronomy night,
he spent the entire time during breakfast talking about it.
Are you and your dad close?
She smiles, but I can tell right away shes giving me her media smile. Of course.
My parents are both wonderful people who have always been devoted to me.
That sounds like the most bullshit press statement ever.
She bends over and looks through the telescope again, momentarily silent,
before she turns, her eyes searching mine. You wouldnt be trying to get me to say
something bad about my family, would you?
What? No. Shit. Is that what you think? That Im fishing for dirt? Im so
blindsided by the question that I dont know whether to be shocked or offended.
Her brow furrows before she relaxes. No, I dont.
I guess you probably get that a lot people who have another agenda for
getting close to you.
She exhales heavily. Of course you would understand that, she says, her
expression softening. I forget that youre in the public light as much, if not more,
than I am. I dont have many friends. Not close ones. So Im not all that great at
talking about myself.
You should be great at it, with all of the interviews you have to do, I tease.
I think the same could be said of you.
Well, Im not digging for dirt on your family, I tell her. Just so you know. And
Im not great at small talk either.
Okay, fine, she declares with a smile. Then we wont do small talk.
So whats the opposite of small talk? I ask.
Getting naked. The opposite of small talk is getting naked.
Super deep talk? she jokes back.
No. Its getting naked.
Is this where we talk about the meaning of life or some philosophical bullshit?
Grace wrinkles her nose. Ew. No.
Well, no small talk was your idea, sweetheart. Damn, that last word sounded
way too normal leaving my mouth. When I called her sweetheart before, it was
sarcastic, totally meant to push her buttons and wind her up. Right now, it just
rolled off the tongue like Ive said it a hundred times.
Okay. Tell me something no one else knows about you.
Is that how were going to play this? You accuse me of prying for dirt on your
family, but ask me to reveal all of my secrets? I raise my eyebrows. "That's a bold
move."
Fine. You can ask me mine, she says, laughing.
I already know yours.
Is that so?
Yep.
She crosses her arms over her chest. All right, I want to hear this. What dirty
secret of mine have you dug up?
I didnt have to dig. Its written all over you."
"What is?"
"The fact that you totally want me.
Well, that is a dirty secret.
I was hoping it could be.
Her face flushes red, but she laughs. Youre avoiding the question. Unless you
want to go back to small talk.
I was hoping no small talk meant we could pick up where we left off last time."
"Noah, I "
I cut her off because I don't want to hear her say what I suspect she was trying to
say before that she's attracted to me and Aiden. Okay, Ill show you my dirtiest
secret.
Are you about to show me your dick?
That is not my dirty secret, contrary to what Aiden might have you believe. The
prescription cream thing was not true, you know.
Grace laughs. Yes, I assumed that much.
Also, my dick wouldnt be a dirty secret, either, because Im pretty proud of it."
She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, are you?"
"Yeah. I'll take it out if you want to see why I'm proud."
Grace laughs. Come on. Out with it the secret, not the dick.
Ill show you, if you swear not to laugh.
She makes a solemn face and holds up her right hand. On my grave.
I think youre supposed to swear on the grave of someone whos already died.
Youre avoiding the original question.
You have to promise not to tell anyone. Do I need to go get a non-disclosure
agreement?
You can. Or I can pinky swear not to tell a soul.
I gasp dramatically. Thats the most sacred of swears, you know.
I know.
When she links her pinkie with mine, a twinge of arousal rushes through me and
I consider yanking her against me and finishing what I started earlier. Instead, I
19
GRACE
N oah opens the deck door to his bedroom, and my heart skips a beat. Is this your
Noah sighs exaggeratedly. Its exactly what it looks like, all right? There you go.
Youve seen my dirty secret.
When he moves to close one of the doors, I stop him. Wait. I dont get it.
I knit.
Excuse me?
You heard me the first time. I knit. In my spare time, I knit things. Socks,
scarves, blankets. Christmas stockings.
You knit.
No one knows. Including Aiden. Shit, especially not Aiden. Or anyone on my
team.
A giggle builds up in my chest, and I cover my mouth to prevent it from coming
out. It doesnt work, and now Noah is looking at me with a dark expression.
Okay, see, I wasnt going to tell you, he growls, closing one of the doors.
Im not laughing at you, I promise, suppressing a giggle. Its just that you
knit? Thats your dirty secret? The way you acted, I was afraid this was going to be
filled with body parts.
Body parts, really? Shit, if the guys on the team found out about the knitting,
Id never hear the end of it. It would be worse than a closet full of body parts.
I mock-button my lips. Mums the word.
You promised not to laugh.
Nervous habit, I say, rapidly changing the subject. Show me something
youve knitted.
Are you done laughing?
I swear.
He sighs. Fine. But dont make me regret showing you. He slides open a
drawer in the cabinet and pulls out a long grey scarf. This is one I just made. Its
angora.
Wow. This is
He sighs. Yeah, I know. Lame.
Thats not what I was going to say at all. I was going to say, its not what I
expected from you.
Look, I love football. Its my whole life. But a couple of years ago, I was having a
hard time getting my mind off the game at night, which gave me problems falling
asleep. The team has this life coach that players sometime see Im not crazy,
though.
I didnt think you were.
Doc sent me to her to fix my sleep, and He laughs under his breath. She
was pregnant and she was knitting when she talked to me. I thought it was the
dumbest fucking thing Id ever seen. She said I should try it because it might help
me clear my head.
Does it?
He shrugs. I started doing it at night and stopped having sleep problems.
Whatever keeps you in the game, right?
Noah gives me a funny look as he takes the scarf out of my hands and slides the
closet doors closed.
You must have knitted a million things by now. What do you do with them?
I donate them to charities. Anonymously, he adds, emphasizing the last word.
Okay, I have one more question.
He crosses his arms. Go ahead.
Can you do ugly Christmas sweaters?
Later, when I snuggle under the covers, thinking about big gruff Noah and his
knitting makes me smile.
THE NEXT MORNING, were up at dawn to work with the horses. When the kids find out
what they have to do, they all groan.
We have to clean poop? Niall asks, making a gagging sound. Hes echoed by
the moans of several of the kids and a chorus of barfing noises.
Thats right. Bryson, one of the seasoned counselors, crosses his arms.
Before you get on a horse, you need to learn how to take care of them. That means
learning how to brush them after you ride, and put on a saddle, and check the
horses hooves and muck the stalls.
You mean shovel poop, one of the other kids says flatly.
Yep. Do you know why we have you muck the stalls first? Because you have to
learn the not-fun stuff before you learn the fun stuff, Bryson says brightly.
Noahs standing a few feet behind me and I hear him speak softly. Its really
because kids are free labor. But also because sometimes in life, you'll have to deal
with shit. So you should get used to shoveling it."
I spin around and give Noah a wide-eyed glare at the use of his profanity, but the
kid beside him nods knowingly. And you cant let shit get you down, the kid says.
Noah fist-bumps the kid. Good philosophy, Louis.
I glare at Noah, who seems oblivious. No profanity.
What? the kid protests. Thats what my mom says.
Your mom is a wise woman, Noah adds.
Yeah. I know. Are you going to help muck the stalls?
Are you crazy? Noah blurts.
So youre going to just watch us do it?
Thats right. Im going to stand here and enjoy my cup of coffee, because thats
exactly the way my dad taught me. Circle of life, man. Ive done my time mucking
stalls. Now it's your turn."
Huh. I thought you were supposed to be a regular guy, not a stuck-up athlete,
Louis grumbles. But I guess once you get rich, youre too good for this kind of
thing.
Noah groans and rolls his eyes dramatically. Fine. Go get two pitchforks. Make
that three find your co-conspirator, Spencer. But you know youre a pain in the
ass, Louis.
Noah! I exclaim, my eyes big.
Louis grins. "Yes! I knew you would cave.
Did you just guilt me into shoveling crap with you? Noah asks.
Louis grin gets even broader. Deal with it, bro. You got played.
Noah tries to keep from laughing. Get out of here. When Louis runs off to grab
shovels, Noah shakes his head. Hes a total manipulator.
You cant call him a pain in the ass, I tell him.
Why not? Noah asks, looking at me blankly. I called him a pain in the ass
because I like him. And because hes a pain in the ass.
Number one, its profanity and we dont use profanity at camp. Number two,
you cant just go around calling the kids names.
He called me an ass yesterday when we met, Noah protests. Im pretty sure
Im not hurting his delicate feelings or exposing him to any profanity he doesnt
already know.
Well, at least he seems to have an accurate assessment of you.
See? You agreed that Im an ass right there, and you like me.
I raise my eyebrows. I like you?
Oh, please. Dont pretend like you dont. Noah grins.
I step closer to him, dropping my voice to a whisper as I lean in. Yeah. Theres
nothing that gets me hotter than a man who knits me socks.
Ohhh. Noah steps back, shaking his head as he laughs and puts his hands
over his chest. Going right for the jugular. I thought we said wed never speak of
that again.
I said I wouldnt tell anyone else. But I made no promise to never speak of it.
Louis and Spencer interrupt, arriving with pitchforks in hand. Lets get this
over with, Louis says, rolling his eyes.
Noah shoos the kids toward a stall, pausing for a second to whisper in my ear
before he passes me. If knitting you socks gets you wet, sweetheart, Ill knit you a
whole damn wardrobe.
20
AIDEN
I hope you dont mind if I use the kitchen, says Grace, looking up from the
counter where shes chopping vegetables. The kids are cooking over the
campfire and I just couldnt stomach the prospect of hotdogs for dinner.
Its Noahs place, so you absolutely have my permission to use whatever you
want.
She laughs as she slides vegetables off the cutting board into the bowl. Where
is your roommate, anyway?
Gym. Im irritated that she cares where Noah is. Not to be completely
arrogant or anything, but Im not used to girls not falling all over me. Im rich,
stacked, and a football player; I dont have trouble getting women. But Grace isnt
like the girls who usually throw themselves at me.
She seems oblivious to my annoyance, and its hard to stay irritated as she dices
up another pepper and slides it from the cutting board into the bowl, looking
fucking adorable in a navy skirt and white t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a high
ponytail.
I have to look away from her because if I keep ogling her, Im going to start
thinking about throwing her right up on this counter and putting my face up under
that skirt. And if I start thinking about that
Shit. My dick is hard now. I cover by sliding into one of the high-top seats at the
granite countertop.
I looked up West Bend, Grace says.
I thought you werent in the habit of internet searching.
She grins. I didnt look for you guys, she protests. Just photos of West Bend.
I was curious whether Id been there with my dad. I have, by the way. I recognized
the Main Street.
Its pretty much exactly like the Main Streets in a hundred other towns across
the U.S.
True. She turns, going to the refrigerator and pulling out more veggies. But I
remember the general store because they sold dresses. I spilled ice cream on my
shirt before this lunch at some diner, I think? My mother was really upset about it.
She brought me in there to get a new dress and the thing was like something
My cock hardens immediately, like some kind of reflex. Ive never gotten hard
because of a sound before. I pull the skirt up over her perfect ass.
Her perfect, nearly bare ass.
Shes wearing a little black thong under the skirt. I want to tear it off her ass
right now. Instead, I palm her perfectly round cheek before pulling my hand back
and giving it a light slap.
You did not just spank me, she whispers.
I think about how exactly shes going to look bent over like this while I fuck her
from behind, and my cock throbs in response.
Tell me how much you want me to bend you over and slide my cock inside you
right now, I whisper. She moans softly as I speak the words, my lips so close to her
ear. Tell me how much you want to feel me slap your ass as I fuck you.
Aiden
All I have to do is slide my fingers around your thigh, I say softly. If I reach
between your legs, will I find that your pussy is ready for me?
She lets out a frustrated groan and squirms against me, but doesnt move to step
away.
Say yes.
She lets out a long sigh. Aiden, I just no. I cant do this with you and No-
Damn it, fucking Noah. I hear the clomp-clomp of his footsteps on the floor
before I see him. What a cock-blocker.
Hey Aiden, he calls.
Grace leaps away from me like a pole-vaulter, leaving me with what is going to
be the most massive case of blue balls in recorded history.
Fuck. I mean to say what but thats what comes out instead. I clench my
fists, trying to suppress my irritation with Noah because the last thing I want is for
him to think hes getting to me or worse, that Im having trouble scoring with
Grace.
Noah grins and holds up his phone. A couple of cheerleaders texted me looking
for you. Apparently they want to make an Aiden sandwich. He uses air quotes.
Tell your hookups to stop texting me.
Im going to just um Ill be right back, Grace says, practically running out
of the room.
Really? Fake threesome? Thats all youve got, Noah?
He shrugs. Prescription cream for my sores?
Now that was funny.
Aw, you dont think an Aiden sandwich is funny? he asks as I storm out of the
room.
THE THREE OF us dont end up eating dinner together. Grace goes out to do something
with the campsite, leaving her salad half-completed on the counter. The campsite
Okay, now youre just being a jackass. You already know my answer is going to
be no to all of those things.
I shake my head at her in mock disappointment.
I didnt grow up in the country! she protests. I grew up in Denver.
You live in Colorado.
Wait, she says. I ski a lot. I definitely skied a lot during boarding school in
Switzerland, too. Thats outdoorsy, right?
Now youre just making it worse, I tell her.
When we reach the pond, I try not to be distracted by the way her ass looks in
those jeans when she bends over to pick a rock up off the ground.
Hows this? she asks.
Wrong kind of rock. You need the skipping kind thin and flat. Like this. I
hold up a perfect skipping rock and demonstrate, watching it ping across the
surface of the water. Five skips. Im a master at this.
She laughs. Youre a rock-skipping master?
We all have our gifts.
Is this what you did growing up in West Bend?
I told you there was nothing to do in that town. I hand her a rock. Try it.
She tosses it into the water and it lands with a ker-plunk. Thats
embarrassing.
Maybe rock-skipping isnt your thing.
Oh, shut up. Shes silent for a few minutes as she looks for rocks. You and
Noah have been friends for a long time.
We have.
Shes silent for a minute as she picks up another rock and throws it, watching it
plop into the water. I dont want to come between that.
Try this one. I hand her a flat rock, moving around behind her and taking her
wrist in my hand. Fuck, she smells good, and she feels so damn good against me.
You have to flick your wrist.
I let go and she tosses it. This time it skips twice. How about that, she
breathes.
Youre not going to come between us.
Unless she wants to come between us.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
Grace turns around, still close to me. How do you know?
Ive known Noah my whole life. We grew up next door to each other. Our moms
were best friends. Weve always been
Jackasses? she teases.
I was going to say tight, but jackasses works too.
Are your families still close? She steps away now, bending over to pick up
another rock.
My sister Annie and I are close with his parents, yeah. My dad was only in the
picture until my mom got pregnant with Annie. Two kids were one too many for
him, so he ran off. He tried to contact me three years ago when I signed my contract
because suddenly I was his son, but you know the saying too little, too late.
So your mom raised you.
Yep, single mom. She worked at a factory thirty miles out of town to put food
on the table for us. Thats one thing that still gets me now not having her here to
see how her work paid off.
She passed away?
Car accident in high school. A tractor-trailer truck ran a stop sign and slammed
into the side of her car. It was instant.
Im sorry.
Life kicks you in the nuts sometimes. I shake off the pang of sadness I always
get when I think about it. Anyway, Noahs mom and my mom were best friends
and our jerk-off father didnt turn up, Annie and I went to live with Noahs family
after that.
Thats why you guys are close.
I shrug. We were tight before that. But thats why you shouldnt worry about
getting between us. Both of us know the score.
21
NOAH
T hings have been getting more heated between Aiden and I over the past week,
which is why the charitys idea to have us head up a bunch of kids for a touch
football game before the end of the camp was a disaster waiting to happen.
Total accident, I call loudly after I trip Aiden on the field. Yeah, its a low blow,
but since that fucker put a laxative in my food the other day right before we were
about to head out for a trail ride, Im not playing clean anymore.
Aiden stands up, glancing around at the kids and smiling as he gestures at them
to back away. Im totally fine, kids. It was just an accident. Noah gets clumsy
sometimes and cant seem to control his limbs.
Standing on the sidelines with her arms crossed, Grace looks less than pleased.
Aiden gets in my face. In front of the kids, Noah? Real mature, he says, his
voice low.
Says the guy who put laxatives in my food.
The kids are goofing off, quickly losing interest in the game. But Aiden smiles
broadly and fakes a laugh for anyone watching us, like were standing here joking
around. He yells, Were just talking about plays. Take a timeout, kids!
Then he drops his voice low again, his smile turning into a snarl. You put
itching powder in my boxers.
I shrug. Maybe I did, maybe I didnt. Maybe that threesome with the
cheerleaders just got you more than you bargained for.
The fake threesome you made up, Aiden says, stepping forward and pushing
my shoulder.
Youre going to really lay your hands on me? I warn. Im bigger than you.
Huh. Thats not what Grace seems to think.
I push him back, ignoring the yell of several of the camp counselors on the
sidelines. Did you screw her? I growl.
Aiden stumbles back a few feet, giving me a smug look. Jealous?
I dont wait for him to say anything else about Grace. I just rush him, knocking
him to the ground hard.
Grace is suddenly beside us, yelling loudly. Noah and Aiden were just
demonstrating a football play. Kids, take five. Or twenty. Counselors, can you find
another activity to do? The players are going to practice and theyll show you some
plays later. Before either of us can hit the other one, she squats down and glares at
us, fire in her eyes. Stand. The. Fuck. Up.
She punctuates each word with a sharp inhale of breath.
Shit.
I get up, adrenaline still coursing through my veins, but I dont lay a hand on
Aiden as he rises and wipes his mouth with the back of his wrist, looking more
smug than before.
You should get your anger under control, Noah, he taunts.
Wait until later, I warn.
No, Grace snaps. The two of you jackasses are going to turn around and wave
at the kids and pat each other on the back. Then youre going to laugh and pretend
like you didnt just try to start a fucking fistfight in front of a bunch of children who
see you as role models.
Chastised, we do exactly as she directs, grinning like a couple of idiots and
clapping each other on the back for show. When I lean in to slap Aiden on the back
extra-hard he grins broadly and fake-laughs, all the while glaring at me. Sorry
you didnt make your move on Grace before I did.
I lean in to bro-hug him, a fake smile plastered onto my face. Later, Im going
to kill you, I reply, my voice equally pleasant. "Maybe in your sleep."
Enough, Grace says harshly. Turn around and walk back to the ranch house
like youre not five-year-olds who have to be told to keep their hands to
themselves.
Both of us walk silently toward the house with Grace behind us. Yeah, of course,
the mature part of me feels like an asshole for getting into a fight with Aiden in the
middle of a touch football game. The rest of me thinks I should have slugged him
when I had the chance.
When we reach the front door, Grace turns to her security detail. Theres
probably going to be yelling. A lot of yelling.
One of the agents looks like shes almost about to crack a smile. Roger that,
maam, she says. If we hear screaming, we wont assume youre in distress.
Grace opens the door and walks inside without saying a word, her stride brisk,
and we follow her through the living room. Okay, apparently she doesnt want to
have a conversation in the living room where there are seats.
Nope, shes going for the kitchen. Where there are knives.
Aiden must be thinking the same thing because he raises his eyebrows as he
looks at me. Why dont we get a drink, maybe a little chocolate, and talk about this
like adults in the living room?
A drink? Grace asks. I think her nostrils are flaring. Chocolate?
What? Aiden asks, putting his hands up. I thought maybe, you know, you
might want some chocolate since youre kind of upset right now
Oh, shit. I hear myself say the words aloud. Even Im not dumb enough to say
what I think hes about to say.
22
GRACE
O kay. I echo Aidens words, my voice a whisper because Im not sure I actually
heard either of them correctly. My hands are still there, paused as I grip Aiden
and Noahs shirts, unmoving because Im terrified to do what I think I want to do
next.
Im afraid of what it might mean.
The Presidents daughter does not have a threesome. She certainly does not
have a threesome with two professional athletes. And she definitely does not have
a threesome with two arrogant, frustrating, holy-crap-hot men in the middle of a
kitchen during a charity camp while her two Secret Service agents are outside the
house.
You dont have to choose between us, because we both want you, Noah
growls.
I inhale sharply, my palms unfurling before I even realize what Im doing.
Flattening my hands, I brush along their chests, my fingers exploring their
muscular bodies over the thin fabric of their t-shirts.
When I hear myself moan, it takes me by surprise.
So does what happens next.
Noah reaches for me, gripping a handful of hair at the nape of my neck and
pulling it back so that my face is angled toward his. Is that a yes?
Yes. I barely breathe the word before his lips crash down on mine in a
powerful, all-consuming kiss that overrides all of the uncertain thoughts in my
head. I practically melt against him, losing track of everything as the world spins
on its axis. The kiss seems to last forever, and when Noah finally pulls away, his
hand still gripping my hair tightly, Im breathless.
I dont have any other word except yes.
I think I breathe the word again as Aiden moves to stand behind me, his lips
near my ear and his hands on the sides of my hips. Is this what you want, sugar?
The heat from his breath on my neck sends arousal rushing through my body,
setting every part of me on edge. Do you want both of our lips on you? Both of our
hands on your body? Both of our cocks inside you?
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Hearing him speak the words out loud makes them seem a million times filthier
than even the dirtiest fantasies Ive had of the three of us together. Even so, I dont
feel self-conscious as Aiden kisses his way down the side of my neck, his hands
sliding around my waist, his fingertips under the waistband of my jeans. Before I
know it, Aiden is lifting my shirt over my head and Noahs hands are on my jeans,
pulling the fabric down over my hips.
They undress me right there in the kitchen until Im standing between them
wearing only my bra and panties.
Noah kneels between my legs, his eyes heavy-lidded and his expression filled
with lust. Ive been picturing you in my head, but those images dont compare at
all to what you look like right now.
Is she wet? Aidens voice is low in my ear, his hands cupping my breasts. He
slides a finger inside the fabric of my bra, and my nipples immediately harden to
his touch.
Noahs eyes dont leave mine. Are you wet, Grace?
I moan my response as his face disappears between my legs, the heat from his
mouth radiating through my panties as he kisses me. He inhales deeply and groans.
Ive definitely thought about this, he murmurs, his voice muffled as he presses
his lips against my clothed pussy. Shes soaked. Right through her panties.
Is that true, Grace? Aiden whispers as he slowly removes my bra, his tongue
teasing me, flicking over the place underneath my ear that makes me shiver.
Yes. I barely choke out the word as Noah growls and tears my panties off my
body, ripping them at the seams like an animal.
Aidens hands replace the cups of my bra holding, stroking, kneading my
breasts. Your tits are amazing, Grace. I can see why you wanted to keep them to
yourself, Noah.
He never had them, I start.
Noah interrupts, his voice gruff and angry. I never had them the way Aiden
does right now. But he never had this. He grips my thighs, pulling me roughly
forward as he buries his face between my legs. When his warm, wet mouth covers
my pussy, I nearly lose my balance, but Aiden holds me up, pressing his erection
against my ass cheek.
Im lost as Noah devours me. Theres no warm-up, no teasing or slow start to
his movements. Hes all in, eating me like a starving man, his tongue stroking my
clit, his groans sending vibrations through my pussy and thrills of arousal through
my body.
Aidens hands are everywhere, caressing my breasts, his fingers pinching my
nipples. When I reach behind me, palming his leg, searching desperately for his
hardness with my hand because I want to feel him, he just laughs softly in my ear.
Not yet, sugar. This is all about you, so fucking enjoy it.
Two hot men making it all about me? I dont know whose life I just stepped into,
replaces Noah between my legs, touching his tongue gently to my swollen clit. I
dont know where to look at Aidens rapturous expression as he begins to lick me,
or at Noah as he stands a few feet away, pulling off his shirt and dropping it to the
tile floor, his obvious erection tenting his pants as he watches us. I jerked off
thinking about exactly what youd taste like, sugar. And its better than I
imagined.
I moan as Aidens tongue laps me gently probing me, exploring me as he licks
every bit of my wetness. His movements are softer, more languid and slower than
Noahs. Hes taking his time with me, savoring every bit of it, not devouring me
with the intensity Noah just did. Its different from Noah but just as hot, and my
body responds the way it did when Noah was between my legs immediately, like
its been waiting for the two of these men forever.
This should feel so wrong. Not more than a few minutes ago, another mans face
was between my legs, another mans tongue on my clit, his fingers buried deep
inside me as I screamed my orgasm. But it doesnt. Instead, it feels perfect.
The throbbing emptiness gives way to overwhelming arousal again as Aidens
tongue enters me. Aiden fucks me with his tongue, moving in and out where
Noahs fingers were a few moments ago. I close my eyes, surrendering to the
sensation.
Oh my God. Im already close to coming a second time.
But I stop myself. No, I whisper. I think the orgasm might have made me
bold. Or crazy. Probably both. Thats the only explanation for why I say what I do
right now. I want more I need more than your mouths on me.
As the words leave my mouth, my heart pounds wildly in my chest, even as the
fearful part of me reminds me again that First Daughters dont have sex with
multiple football players. They have lights-out, missionary-style, good-girl sex
with their long-term boyfriends who are Wall Street legends, or prominent
attorneys, or independently wealthy billionaires.
But then Aiden pulls away from me, standing to disrobe, and he and Noah are
both in front of me naked and the fearful thoughts are replaced with one single
thought:
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I just stare.
"You're" My voice drifts off as my breath hitches in my throat. "Um huge."
Everywhere.
They're both massive - walls of rippling muscle, defined abs, and the biggest,
hardest cocks I've ever seen. When they begin to slowly stroke those cocks right in
front of me, my face warms and the throbbing between my legs reminds me of what
I want.
"Well, I'm bigger," Aiden says.
"Really? You fucking think so?" Noah challenges him.
Maybe we should let Grace decide, Aiden responds, his eyes on mine. He gives
me a cocky smile. What do you think?
Think? Theres no thinking going on right now because all of the blood in my
brain has shifted downward. I think my IQ has dropped significantly, rendering me
stupid and incapable of forming a complete thought, let alone articulating a
coherent sentence. I think My voice drifts off as I summon the courage and
words to say exactly what I think. I want
Dont tell me youre speechless, Noah teases.
Yeah, I want to hear that pretty little mouth of yours describe exactly what you
want, Aiden chimes in.
Noah groans, his hand running down his length. So do I.
I want your cocks. I pause, exhaling and then taking a deep, slow breath
before I continue. My heart races wildly in my chest. Okay, Im going to say it. I
want your cocks. In. My. Mouth. I gulp a deep breath between each word not
because Im trying to be emphatic, but because Im trying to maintain my courage.
I want to taste both of you.
For a second, they just stand there unmoving both of them staring at me, their
hands on their dicks.
Shit. Did I say the wrong thing?
Okay. This wasnt the exact reaction I was hoping for."
Aiden swears under his breath, something unintelligible.
Holy fuck, that mouth, Noah says. Are you sure?
Am I sure?
Im about to get on my knees and put my mouth on the cocks of two football
players. No, Im not fucking sure. I think I might be temporarily insane or hell,
permanently insane.
I nod, swallowing hard. Yes. Im sure.
Grace, Aiden says, his voice low in his throat. He kisses me softly, and I taste a
hint of me still on his lips. His gentle kiss is followed by Noahs powerful one, each
distinct and sexy in their own way.
I slide my palms over their chests and down their abs until I reach their cocks. I
kneel in front of them, taking their cocks in my hands.
"Fuck," Noah groans. "Keep stroking me just like that."
When Aiden moans, its all the encouragement I need. Id rather have you
between my lips.
Shit, Grace, you have such a filthy little mouth, Aiden says.
New Grace seems to have taken Old Grace's inhibitions and thrown them out the
window. New Grace is dirty as hell. I smile at Aiden, taking his cock in my hand and
licking it from base to tip. Then I do the same to Noah. Thats right, I agree. And
I want you to fuck my filthy little mouth.
You keep talking like that, Noah starts, his voice faltering as I put my lips
around the head of his cock, and doing what youre doing, and Im going to come
in that filthy mouth of yours.
We both will, Aiden says.
My core throbs its response. Why does the prospect of taking both of them
doesn't it?" Noah asks. "We're at your mercy and you love it."
Fuck. Yes.
Aiden groans loudly, and I think he might explode as I stroke him. But Noah
growls, taking my hand away. "Slide your fingers between your legs right now.
"Show us how wet you are, sugar," Aiden agrees. He takes over for me, his cock
in his hand, watching me.
I already know how wet I am.
But now I show them. Slipping my fingers between my legs, I coat them with my
slickness and hold them up so they can see. "Im really wet.
I'm turned on by the fact that these two men are standing over me jerking
themselves off. I'm not sure who I am right now.
Have you ever touched yourself in front of two men before? Noah asks.
I think you already know the answer to that question," I reply. "Ive never done
it in front of one person, let alone two."
Oh, hell, Aiden groans.
Slide your fingers between your legs, Grace. I want to see you touch yourself.
Show us how you touched yourself when you were thinking about us, Noah orders.
So I do. With one hand braced against Noah's muscular thigh, I press my fingers
against my clit as I watch both of them stroke their cocks above me. Their
expressions are already strained and I know they must be close to exploding.
I want to taste them when they do.
The thought makes me even hotter.
Fuck yourself with your fingers, Aiden says, as if he can read my mind and my
desires.
Whimpering, I do exactly that. My pussy is slick and my fingers slip easily
inside. I cant suppress the moan that escapes my lips as I press the palm of my
hand against my clit.
I want more. I want them inside me. I want them in my mouth.
I want to taste everything from them.
I'm practically delirious, out of my mind with lust as I bring myself closer to the
edge. I fuck myself with my fingers, wanting it to be their cocks instead.
Then Noah warns me: "Fuck, Grace, I'm close. I'm going to come all over those
perfect tits of yours if you don't tell me not to."
"Not before I do," Aiden chimes in.
Im about to chide them for the competitiveness competitive coming?! but I
dont. Instead, I look up at them and I open my mouth.
It's literally an open invitation for them.
"Is that what you want, Grace?" Noah growls. "You want us to come in your
mouth?"
Yes.
I nod, no time to speak the word before the prospect of tasting them pushes me
over the edge and I'm coming. I grip Noah's thigh, my fingernails digging into him
as I cry out.
My cries mix with theirs as they come on my open mouth. The taste of their cum
mingles together, the combination salty and sweet and familiar and new all at the
same time.
I feel filthy. Absolutely filthy.
And I've never felt more alive.
23
AIDEN
Holy shit.
Grace kneels on the floor with her face turned upward. Grace, the head of a
foundation. Grace, the woman volunteering her time with a children's charity.
Grace, the fucking daughter of the President of the United States of America. Grace,
whos classy and smart and funny and pretty and covered in my cum.
Our cum.
What the hell was I thinking? What the hell were we thinking?
She opens her eyes and looks at me with flushed pink cheeks, her face radiant.
Then she takes her index finger, wipes it along a droplet of cum near her chin and
puts it in her fucking mouth.
I think I could come again watching her suck her finger clean.
It's like a switch was flipped in her or something timid, hesitant, selfconscious Grace is gone and in her place is a shit-sure-of-herself vixen.
Noah and I reach for her hands and pull her to her feet.
Then she pauses, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. "That was" Her voice trails off.
Fucking hot, Noah says quickly.
Really fucking hot, I agree, kissing Grace tenderly on the lips. Im afraid that
the expression that just passed across her face means she's thinking about what
just happened, that she's regretting it, and that she's about to run screaming out of
the kitchen. I'd do just about anything in the world to keep her from doing that.
We should get you cleaned up.
"Let's get you to the shower," Noah suggests.
I just came, yet my cock twitches at the suggestion of getting into the shower
with Grace, even if its with Noah at the same time. I dont care how I have to have
this girl. I just want her, even if I have to share her. We can definitely take care of
you in the shower.
I slide one arm behind Grace's back and the other under her knees, picking her
up before she can protest or Noah can pick her up himself. She feels so tiny in my
arms.
Im perfectly capable of walking down the hallway, she argues.
I know. Im just concerned youre going to have second thoughts and take off
out of here, and I dont want that to happen before we get you in the shower.
Its for your own good, Noah chimes in, walking ahead of us toward his room.
For my own good?
We made you a mess, we need to clean you up, he explains.
We really, really made you a mess, I agree.
So the shower is solely for my benefit, huh?" Grace's face is close to mine and I
just want to kiss her again and again.
A hundred percent, Noah assures her. We dont have any untoward
intentions, do we, Aiden?
I dont know what untoward means, but if Noah is suggesting Im not going to
try to put my penis in you the first chance I get, you should know he doesnt speak
for me. Because Im going to. So dont drop the soap.
Grace slaps my chest playfully. Has anyone ever told you that you're a pig?"
Noah snorts. I ignore him because, well, I cant really get mad at anything right
now, not after Graces lips were just wrapped around my cock. In fact, I'm
practically fucking whistling as I walk.
In the shower, Ill show you just how much of a pig I can be, I reply, my voice
exaggeratedly seductive.
Grace wrinkles her nose. Im not sure what that means, but it sounds terrible.
Noah groans. Seriously, dude. I never realized how little game you actually
have.
Good thing I have a big dick.
Grace cant even hide the way she blushes when I say it.
You are a big dick, Noah says.
I carry Grace inside the master suite Noahs master suite and into the giant
shower. When I set her down on her feet inside on the marble tile, I bump into
Noah and for a second, it's probably the most uncomfortable and awkward
situation in human history, even if there is a naked girl standing right in front of
us.
After all, Noah is my best friend in the world. And yeah, Ive seen him naked
more times than I can count in locker rooms, but that doesnt mean I want to see
him naked in any other context. Or that I want to see him fuck a woman. Or that I
want him to watch me fuck a woman.
Or that I want a woman to give us blowjobs at the same time.
But I really, really want Grace.
And what happened in the kitchen a few minutes ago wasnt all that awkward
when it was happening. Watching Noah put his mouth between Graces legs should
have made me jealous as hell, except it didnt.
In fact, something about watching them together turned me on.
I dont know what the hell that means.
I dont have time to think about it, though, because just then Grace slips a little
on the wet tile in the shower, letting out a little shriek as she slides into me. I react
quickly, grabbing her arm to hold her up. When she laughs, she falls against my
chest and my arms slip around her back like its the most natural thing in the
world.
The instant she touches me, Im hard again. Its like Im a teenage boy and shes
the first girl Ive ever crushed on. Its embarrassing as hell how much I want this
woman.
Grace looks up at me, her hands on my chest, her green eyes wide and bright.
When I press my lips to hers, she opens for me. Her tongue seeks out mine, almost
like she's suddenly uncertain, even though she just had my cock between her lips.
The fact that shes hesitating makes her more endearing.
I'm floating on a damn cloud. So much so that I don't even mind when Noah
kisses her. Or when his hands cup her breasts. Were so competitive about
everything in the fucking world, yet somehow we stand here with Grace in the
shower, soaping her wet body like this is a damn team effort.
I think Im probably clean now, Grace whispers as I run my hands over her
breasts again.
Are you sure? We should be certain, I tell her. Like right here, for example.
Definitely want to make sure. I slide my fingers between her legs where shes
warm and already so slick. This time, I'm in front of her. This time, I get to see her
expression change the way her eyes get heavy, the way she bites on her lip as I
slowly probe her with my fingers.
Behind her, Noah runs his hands down her hips and over her ass. "What about
here, Grace?" he asks. I can't see what he's doing, but her eyes widen just a little.
"Such a tight little asshole. Has anyone been here before?
No." She doesn't speak the word. She moans it, and her pussy tightens around
my fingers, her response to his touch immediate. I thrust inside her with my
fingers, stroking her as Noah presses his fingers against her asshole. As I build
momentum, she grips my biceps tightly for support.
No one has been inside you, Noah says. Which one of us is going to take your
sweet, tight little virgin hole?
"I I'm not sure," she whispers, her eyes searching mine. "Which one of you
wants it?
Noah chuckles under his breath. "I guarantee you, both of us want it. I watch as
he presses his cock against her ass cheek, and a surge of jealousy rushes through
me.
If you think for a second that youre going to take it now - I growl.
"I'm so close," Grace begs, her voice soft, a reminder to keep my focus on her
pleasure. She reaches for my cock, distracting me from arguing with Noah by
running her hand down my length as she whimpers. I press my fingertips against
the textured spot inside her, provoking a long moan.
"Come on my fingers, sugar," I tell her. "Come on my fingers and then youre
going to come on my cock.
And on mine, Noah interrupts.
But, first mine.
Yet I can't help it. There's something primal about seeing Noah mark his
territory our territory and knowing that shes going to give herself fully to both
of us.
Shes bent over, completely on display, and I mark her as mine.
She stands there with our cum dripping down her, and I dont know that Ive
ever seen anything so damn hot in my life.
24
NOAH
Grace lies on her back on the bed, her face flushed from the orgasm in the
shower, her expression a mixture of satisfaction and longing.
I want to erase the longing part right off of her face. I want her to be satiated.
This girl has me wound so tight, so pent up from lusting after her, that Im hard
again, even after coming twice. Her mouth wasnt enough for me. Jerking off on her
and marking her mine wasnt nearly enough either. I want to feel her pussy tight
around my cock. I want to feel her scream her orgasm as she comes on me.
After the shower, Aiden and I took her to bed, laying her down between us
teasing and kissing and tormenting her again nonstop until she was writhing,
begging to feel us inside her.
Now, Aiden's face is buried between Grace's legs. Her moans echo loudly in the
quiet of the bedroom.
I dont know how the hell the three of us ended up like this. The idea that Id
share Grace with anyone especially my best friend is insane. Im not a generous
man, and Ive never shared a woman.
Except here I am with her and Aiden.
It makes no damn sense at all. It makes no sense that Im watching Aiden
between the legs of the girl Ive been lusting after and that I dont want to kill him
with my bare hands for daring to touch her. And it makes no sense that the thought
of Aiden and I being inside her at the same time makes my dick so hard I think it
might explode.
I reach for a condom in the nightstand and tear open the wrapper, rolling it onto
my length as I listen to Graces moans and whimpers as Aiden licks her. Her moans
are like music, a fucking symphony that fills the room.
She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine to linger only for a moment
before it travels down the length of my body and settles on my cock. She does that
thing where she takes her lower lip between her teeth, the thing she does when
she's turned on.
As I make my way back to the bed, Aiden looks up at me, a dark look passing
over his face. His jealousy that I'm about to be inside her is transparent, and Grace
"Just like her mouth," Aiden murmurs. "Her warm, wet, tight, perfect mouth."
I bring my hand down hard on Grace's ass cheek, causing her to yelp. Her
muscles squeeze my cock tightly in response to the blow. "Is this what you like,
Grace? Using your perfect mouth to suck Aiden's cock while I'm buried inside you?
Being totally filled up by both of us?"
She pulls away from Aiden long enough to answer. Yes. I love it.
I cant get enough of her.
"You want us to come in you, don't you, sugar?" Aiden asks. "You want us to fill
you up from both ends?"
"Oh, God," she moans again, her words muffled.
"Rub your clit, sweetheart," I tell her because I'm already starting to lose
control. I want her to come on my cock, to feel her pussy squeeze me until there's
nothing left. "You're going to come on my cock and you're going to swallow every
last drop that Aiden gives you."
"Oh, hell," Aiden growls.
Grace reaches between her legs, balancing on her knees and one hand as Aiden
fucks her mouth faster now. Arousal builds inside me as I plunge my cock deeper
into her, reveling in the fact that she's so damn wet for us.
I lose track of time. I lose track of everything except how Grace feels as she
squeezes my cock, how her ass looks as I pull in and out of her, and how she bobs
on Aiden's dick. The only thing I'm aware of now are sensations the sound of my
heavy, filled-to-bursting balls against the bottom of her pussy, her whimpers that
turn into little grunts as she gets closer to climax, Aidens dirty words encouraging
her to suck harder, faster, deeper.
Everything is sensation now slickness and sweat, groans and grunts, moans
and cries. Tightness and wetness and the softness of Grace against me.
Until she cries out loudly, her voice breaking through every other sensation as
she comes. The second she starts to orgasm, her pussy squeezes my cock, setting
my orgasm off in an instant. I grip her hips, pulling her as tightly against me as she
can possibly fit, fucking her harder and harder as I let go. Her muscles squeeze me,
milk me, and demand everything from me.
I dont close my eyes. I come inside her with my eyes open, watching as Aiden's
face screws up and he yells, clutching her hair at the roots as he comes in her
mouth. And I watch in fascination as she swallows everything from him, even as
her pussy continues to squeeze my cock.
For a few minutes, everything in the room is still. The only sound is our
breathing more like panting as the three of us struggle to catch our breaths.
Fucking hell. The sense of release is insane, like a weight has been lifted from
my shoulders, the pent-up frustration that came from being near this girl and not
being able to bury myself deeply inside her.
Until now.
I let out a long exhale. The problem is, I know before my cock even stops
throbbing that this girl is going to be an addiction. Im only going to want more.
And wanting someone like her is a dangerous temptation because she's totally out
of reach.
25
GRACE
I ts midnight. Thats what the clock on my phone says, and I know that because
Ive checked it approximately three hundred times. Its midnight and I, Grace
Sullivan, the head of a charity foundation and daughter of the ultimate spokesman
for good old-fashioned American family values am lying in bed between two men.
Two really hot men. Two really, really hot men who just fucked the hell out of me,
carried me into the shower again and cleaned me up, and then deposited me right
back in this bed.
Two football players who pulled me against them like this was the most normal
situation in the entire world.
And then promptly fell asleep.
Now Im sandwiched between Noah and Aiden, who are lying on their backs on
either side of me, snoring loudly. These arent regular snores, either. Theyre like
two freight trains. Or chainsaws. Dueling snorers. I wonder how the hell I slept in
this house without hearing them through the walls before.
I should be exhausted after four orgasms. Four! The most orgasms a boyfriend
had ever given me before in a single night was exactly one, and that wasnt
anything compared to this. Im not sure what I had with anyone before Noah and
Aiden was even an orgasm. What happened tonight with them was earthshattering, toe-curling, axis-tilting sex.
Filthy, uninhibited, holy-shit-what-am-I-doing sex.
With two men.
Two football players with wild reputations.
Two men who were very good at what they did tonight with their mouths, with
their cocks. Sharing me.
Theyve probably done this before, you know.
The thought pops into my head, and my breath catches in my throat, my heart
skipping a few beats.
No, thats not true. You saw how they fought over you, how they competed for
you. These men arent in the business of sharing women.
Except that theyre athletes. Football players have lots of groupies, dont they?
Women throw themselves at them like theyre rock stars.
Kind of the way you just threw yourself at their feet? An image flashes in my
head: me on my knees in front of them in the kitchen, sucking on their cocks one
right after the other and then begging them to come on my lips.
What the hell am I doing, begging for two men to fuck me?
Sexually confident, drunk-on-her-own-lust Grace has suddenly disappeared,
replaced by Scared Shitless Grace. This Grace is totally consumed by thoughts about
the implications of what just happened between the three of us.
We could get found out so fucking easily. It only takes one person walking in at
the wrong time, or one person noticing a gesture or a look and
It would be on headlines across the world.
Why did I let my libido get the better of me? Making impulsive decisions is not
what I do, and this is the ultimate in impulsive decision-making.
Panic rises in my throat, and I scramble out of bed. I have to get out of here.
What if there was a threat, a reason my security had to find me in the middle of the
night? Thats my rationalization for running away, even though the likelihood of
that happening is infinitesimally small.
I move cautiously, soundlessly, careful not to wake the slumbering giants. I
shouldnt be worried, though, because neither of them stir. I open a drawer in
Noahs dresser, lucking out that the first one I pull on is full of t-shirts. I slip a
shirt over my head and sneak out the bedroom door, tiptoeing through the house
and back to the kitchen for my clothes.
For all of our clothes. Cleaning up the evidence.
Ive seen enough episodes of Law and Order to know that cleaning up the
evidence isnt really possible. Things like this are always discovered. Someone
always finds out.
I take the clothes back to Noahs room, setting them in a small pile by the
bottom of the bed. For a second, I consider getting back into the bed with them. I
consider not being a chicken shit and going to sleep between them, waking up with
them, and repeating what happened last night tomorrow morning.
But Im not that brave. Instead, I tiptoe back to the guest room, collapsing into
bed and pulling the sheets up around me. I sit there for a few minutes with my
phone in my hand before I muster the courage to text Vi.
Shes the only person in the world I can trust to talk about what happened. She
responds in less than a minute.
Youve been radio silent, you know. I was wondering when I was going to get
this text. Call me.
When I do, she answers the phone after one ring, her voice expectant. Well?
Well, what?
Youre the one frantically texting me at midnight. Spill it or Im going to start
trying to guess what you did.
I groan. Youre not going to guess, because its ten times worse than anything
control.
Uh huh. And thats why youre now hiding under your covers in your room,
talking to me in whispers on the phone instead of sucking the spooge out of a
football players dick.
Stop saying spooge.
Why. Does it make you hot?
Are you high?
Sober as a judge, Vi says. And for the record, Im just trying to get you to
laugh about this shit. You cant take everything so fucking seriously or youre going
to drop dead of a heart attack.
I screwed two guys. Well, one. I went down on the other one. Vi, this is not
what I do.
I know. Thats why Im congratulating you. If you did it all the time, it wouldnt
be special. Grace Sullivan, the most tightly-wound girl I know, had casual sex with
two men at the same time.
Casual sex. Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Shes right. Thats all this
was and nothing more. Noah and Aiden are professional football players who have
women throwing themselves at them all the time, and Im the daughter of the
President. It cant be anything other than casual even if I havent had sex in two
years and I just dove right into the deep end of the pool, making it feel as uncasual
as possible for me.
You hooked up with two men and the world didnt end, she continues, but
instead of reassuring me it just reminds me again that someone could find out.
It very well could. We both know that.
Thats just slightly dramatic, dont you think?
You know what I mean. The political world would explode if anyone discovered
what happened.
So dont let them find out.
Everything comes out, Vi, I hiss. Its just a matter of time.
Dont be ridiculous. People keep secrets for years. Think of all of the romance
novels written about secret babies. Hell, think of all the politicians hiding affairs
and secret babies. The three of you are mature, consenting adults who are perfectly
capable of keeping secrets.
Well, I dont know about the mature part, I joke.
Do I detect a hint of humor under your overstressed voice? Vi asks.
Slightly, I admit.
Thats a start, Vi says. Now, in all seriousness tell me everything.
Im not kissing and telling, I protest, feeling protective of what happened
between Noah and Aiden and I.
But it was good?
It was good. Really, really good. Too good, in fact. Even now, exhausted after
being fucked six ways from Sunday as Vi put it, my body craves their touch.
This is casual. It needs to be casual.
Someone needs to tell my body that, because right now it feels like it very well
could be an addiction.
So get back in the game, Vi says. Go get em, tiger. Break a leg. Suck a cock
or two. Wake those boys up and put them inside you.
I exhale heavily and roll my eyes, even if she can't see my face. When you date
athletes "
"Screw," Vi corrects. "When I screw athletes. I occasionally date them, but go
on."
"When you screw these jocks who are used to filthy, juvenile locker room talk,
are they ever the ones appalled by your dirty mouth?"
"All the time, doll. All the time."
26
AIDEN
M mm.
The heat from Graces body radiates onto mine and an image of what happened
last night flashes in my head before I even open my eyes.
In my not-yet-awake state, I reach out to pull her against me, my hand grazing
her ass cheek and
What the fuck.
Thats not Grace Im snuggling up against.
I practically leap to the other side of the bed at the same time that Noah growls,
If your hand so much as gets within a foot of my dick, so help me I will-
Dude. Why are you snuggling up on me? I ask, my voice loud.
Noah is already standing beside the bed, scrambling into his boxers. You had
your head on my chest, asshole.
If I did, its only because your chest feels like a womans. I dig around for my
clothes in the pile on the floor. You might be getting a little soft. You really need
to reevaluate your off-season training.
Fuck you, Noah grumbles. Where the hell is Grace?
Gone, obviously, I respond without thinking. Then the realization hits me.
Did she actually screw us and leave?
Noahs brow furrows and he turns to head to the bathroom, totally ignoring me.
Well, maybe Noah is used to chicks running away screaming after he screws them,
but Im sure as hell not.
Im the one who leaves. Im the one who has to figure out a clever (or not so
clever) excuse to ditch out on a girl after we hook up.
Not once in my twenty-six years has a woman ever pulled a - well, an Aiden
Jackson. The middle-of-the-night bail is one of my trademark moves not that
Im proud of it, but Ive never been with a girl I wanted to stick around and see the
next morning. Not once have I ever been the one who was ditched in the middle of
the night.
I already have pants on and Im pulling on a t-shirt when Noah walks back out of
the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. Why, are you sad she didnt stick around
and cuddle with you?
Pfft. At least that way shed have been between us and I wouldnt have woken
up next to your stupid ass.
You were the one trying to grope my stupid ass.
Only because it felt like a womans. I pause. Seriously. Its baby-soft. What
kind of moisturizer do you use?
A dark look passes over Noahs face. I use Shut The Fuck Up Lotion.
Youre really damn testy this morning. Obviously getting laid doesnt do
anything to make you less of an asshole.
I was doing just fine before I woke up, Noah growls.
You think Grace freaked out?
Fuck, I dont know. Maybe. Probably. After the shit that happened last night,
wouldnt you?
I just woke up in bed with you. I already am freaked out. Thats not a lie.
Well, that makes two of us. Its not like I wanted to wake up with you in my
bed.
This is awkward as hell. Noah and I have been best friends for as long as I can
remember having a best friend. Weve been through a lot of situations together.
This situation has never come up before.
I exhale heavily and clear my throat. Should we uh talk about it or
something?
Noah screws up his face into a grimace. Do you have feelings you need to
share?
Hell, no, I dont have any fucking feelings. Whats wrong with you?
Youre the one who wants to talk, Noah says, huffing as he digs in a dresser
drawer and pulls out gym clothes.
Well, we need to talk to Grace, dont we? I ask.
Noahs shoulders slump. Yeah, I guess.
You guess? Im asking you. Chicks dont run out on me after sex.
You think I have experience with this?
Girls running away from you? I think you might be an expert.
Noah scowls. You dont think she left the ranch and went home, do you?
Shit. I didnt think of that. I didnt think the sex was that bad.
Noah looks at me like Im stupid. It wasnt. I mean, I didnt think it was.
It wasnt, I agree, then say it again to reassure myself. It wasnt. It was kind
of hot, being with the same girl. I mean I clear my throat.
Noah shrugs. Yeah, I guess. I mean, it wasnt as awful as I thought it would be,
watching you with her.
Not as awful? You seemed to like it just fine. You were the one telling her how
much you wanted to watch her swallow my cum while you came in her. I say it
before I think about what Im saying, mostly to get under Noahs skin.
Noahs face turns red. Holy fuck. In all the years Ive known him, Ive never seen
Noah embarrassed. I almost feel bad. Almost.
He shuffles his feet and clears his throat. Are you finished now?
27
NOAH
I ts been almost twenty-four hours since what happened between Aiden and Grace
and I. Aiden and I are good. We spent a few hours in the gym one-upping each
other and lifting weights and not talking about jack shit.
But its weird with Grace. Shes barely been around all day, off hiking in the
morning with the campers, and then breezing through the house on her way to
some kind of trust exercise in the afternoon that she pointedly did not ask us to
join in on.
Now, the campers are gathered around a roaring fire on the last night of the
camp roasting hot dogs and marshmallows. Aiden and I are out here hanging out
with the kids trying to make up for being dickheads the other day and getting into a
near-fight in front of them. We even spent the last hour before the hot dog roast
throwing footballs and teaching them plays.
Grace has definitely been avoiding us. Shes hardly made eye contact, and shes
either really fucking busy with the camp or shes pretending to be so she doesnt
have to talk to us. I dont know what the hell that means. Either shes totally
freaked out by what happened or else she thinks its no big deal. Regardless, she
cant just avoid talking to us forever, at least I hope not especially because I want
what happened to continue happening.
Now its going to be really awkward having her as a neighbor, Aiden says. I
told you it would be weird.
You said no such thing, I correct. In fact, Im the one who told you not to shit
where you eat.
That was good advice.
Grace has been making the rounds, talking to all of the campers and counselors,
and she chooses that exact time to greet Louis and Spencer, who are standing near
us elbowing each other and cracking jokes about wieners.
Did you guys get hot dogs yet? she asks them.
Spencer nods. Were about to go get wieners. He heavily emphasizes the word
wieners before snickering.
Beside me, Aiden chuckles under his breath. Wieners, he repeats.
I give him a look.
I want a big fat wiener, Louis says, snorting. Do you want a big fat wiener,
Spencer?
Go get hot dogs from the counselors over there, Grace says sternly, obviously
trying to change the subject. And dont run with the roasting sticks.
Yeah, Spencer says, elbowing Louis. Walk to get your wiener.
Can I get a stick to roast two wieners at the same time? Louis asks. Im
starving. I want two.
I think I hear Aiden snort.
Graces face pales.
Dont be greedy, Spencer says. The counselors said one at a time, not two.
Only greedy people want two.
I cut him off. Go get your hot dogs.
Theres an awkward moment of silence between the three of us, before Aiden
breaks it. Yeah. So, speaking of two wieners
Fucking hell.
Graces eyes get big and she clears her throat. No, no, no, she says, shaking
her head before she mumbles something and grabs the arm of a counselor passing
by, pretending she needs to talk to the counselor but its obvious as hell that shes
just trying to get away from us as fast as she can.
I glare at Aiden. Fuck, Aiden. Really? That's what you lead with? Speaking of
two wieners?
What? They were laughing about two wieners. Come on. You werent thinking
the same thing?
"That's besides the point," I hiss. "She's already uncomfortable, obviously. Way
to make it even more uncomfortable."
"You're assuming she's uncomfortable. Maybe she just wants to hit it and quit
it."
"Do you want to hit it and quit it?"
Aiden looks sheepish. "No."
"Well, then we need to talk to her. And we need to make it less awkward. Got
any bright ideas?"
"Flowers," Aiden suggests. "Chicks love flowers."
"Great idea," I tell him sarcastically. "Why don't you go run out and get flowers
at seven o'clock at night? Maybe the gas station down the road has some classy
bouquets."
"Yeah, well, maybe you should knit her a scarf."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, I think you do."
I look at him through narrowed eyes, my fists clenched at my side. "Who told
you?"
"You left your knitting needles out one day."
"One day when?" I ask, increasingly pissed off. "Did you go through my shit?"
"One day like six months ago," Aiden admits. "At your old place."
28
GRACE
O kay, so I ran. It was poor form, getting up and leaving in the middle of the night.
I know that. But I really need my sleep and the two of you are insanely loud snorers,
so I left. Have you thought about getting those nose strips?
I exhale heavily. Nope. That's definitely lame. Worst apology ever.
I take another deep breath. Just be honest. I can be honest. I was freaked out.
Who wouldn't be freaked out, anyway? I don't have sex for two years and my
first foray back into dating no, not dating, casual sex - is having two men come in
my mouth. And on my ass. And bend me over in the bedroom
Oh God. My face feels like it's on fire.
I'm not sure if Noah and Aiden even want to see me tonight, not after what
happened at the campfire. But come on! Aiden and that wiener comment right in
the middle of the campers and counselors? Someone could have put two-and-two
together. It was far better to get out of there than to faint, which was probably what
was about to happen next.
It's also the last night of the camp and we're leaving tomorrow. Even though
Noah and Aiden and I are going right back to being neighbors, I'm feeling a sudden
sense of urgency to apologize.
Or run back to my house and never see either of them again.
The rational, responsible part of me says I should do the latter. It would be safer,
easier, and less complicated.
Yet I've been wandering around this house looking for the two of them and
going over my explanation in my head. And now I'm standing here in front of the
only door in this house that I haven't tried.
I take a deep breath and knock before pulling the door open. Noah is sitting in a
deep leather chair in the corner of the whatever this is. A library? A man cave?
The room isn't as rustic as the rest of the house. In here, it's mostly mahogany and
rich colors with books stacked in shelves from floor to ceiling. One corner of the
room holds an immense wooden desk and another wing of the room holds a pool
table.
I feel Noah's eyes on me. He makes no attempt to hide his gaze trailing down
the length of my body, making me all too aware of the fact that I showered and
changed out of the jeans and t-shirt that I wore earlier in the evening at the
campfire. My reasoning was that the campfire made my hair smell like smoke, but
that's not really the entire truth. At least, it doesn't explain why I changed into a
dress casual, black cotton, nothing fancy and added mascara and a hint of lipgloss.
"Impressed?" Noah asks.
Mildly.
"She does have a sense of humor, after all."
"I have a sense of humor," I protest. "Just not when it comes to"
"Wieners?" Noah asks.
"Exactly."
"And staying the night?"
My face warms. "About that"
"About that." Noah looks at me, his expression blank, except his eyes are
intense, focused on me.
"I came down here to explain," I start. "Actually, I've been wandering around
the house for a little while, looking for you and Aiden."
"Aiden's been gone for a" Noah looks at his watch. "Couple of hours now."
"Oh."
"He went out to the store. So he could be back here soon or else in a few days
we might find out he flew to Canada because he decided on a whim that he needed
real maple syrup or Canadian beer."
I bite my lip to hide a smile. If I'd just met Aiden, I'd think Noah was trying to be
possessive and keep Aiden out of the way, but that sounds exactly like something
Aiden would do.
Noah crosses his arms. "So, you came down here to grovel?"
"Does this require groveling?"
Noah's gaze remains on my face for a long moment and I feel naked under his
stare, heat rushing through me just like it did when I was with him and Aiden
before. I squeeze my thighs together, thankful that I'm wearing a dress that hides
the needy gesture.
"Fleeing in the middle of the night?" Noah asks. "I think a little groveling is in
order."
He doesn't move. He just sits there in his chair, his legs spread, looking at me
with hunger in his eyes. Even if I couldn't see the bulge in his pants, I'd be able to
tell exactly what he wanted just from the expression on his face.
The thing is, it's what I want, too - at least until Scared Shitless Grace takes over
my brain. When I forget about everything outside of this room, I'm certain this
with them - is what I want.
I cross the room, stopping when I'm standing between Noah's outstretched legs.
But I dont drop to my knees to grovel. It doesn't feel right somehow, not without
Aiden here.
But not having Aiden here doesn't stop Noah from running his hands up the
inside of my thighs, the warmth of his large palms radiating into my skin. It also
doesn't keep my thighs from quivering in response to his light stroke, or my pussy
from throbbing at the thought of him sliding his fingers up just a little more.
"I freaked out," I explain. It's not much of an explanation, though; its more like
a statement of fact.
"Do you freak out a lot?"
Yes. About everything.
"Only when I have crazy sex with two men," I say, my voice light.
Noah's fingertips dig into my thighs as he narrows his eyes, and I swat at his
hands. "Does that happen a lot?" he asks.
"It's happened once," I whisper as he pulls me down onto his lap, my knees on
either side of him.
"It's going to happen again," he growls, his hand going to the nape of my neck
as he takes my mouth. His kiss is punishing in its intensity, practically bruising as
he demands my mouth, my tongue, and my everything. I'm dizzy and breathless
when he pulls his lips from mine, his hands still on my cheeks. "You're not going
to freak out this time, are you?"
I'm about to say that I don't see two men here, and so I'm not in present danger
of having sex with two men, but Aiden chooses that exact moment to throw open
the door to the library, carrying a bag. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, he exclaims. Is this
seriously happening without me?"
Noah grins. "You snooze, you lose."
"Nothing happened," I protest, but I don't move from Noah's lap.
"Yeah, it did," Noah disagrees. "She groveled."
Aiden's brows go up.
"Not on my knees," I say quickly, imagining how Aiden pictures me groveling.
Aiden crosses his arms and gives me a stern look. "You should grovel. Because
you ran off in the middle of the night, I had to feel up Noah's ass."
"Had to?" I ask.
"Quit using that as an excuse," Noah interrupts. "You were feeling up my ass
because you wanted to."
Aiden shrugs. "It felt like a woman's."
"You're saying that Noah's ass feels like mine?" I ask. "Should I be insulted?"
"I have a great ass," Noah scoffs. "You should take it as a compliment."
"I think I remember seeing your ass, but I can't be sure. Maybe I should remind
myself of what it looks like," I say, biting down on my lip as Noah growls and pulls
me tighter onto his lap, grinding me against his hardness.
"I have more interesting things for you to check out," Noah says, his voice
gravelly.
"So do I," Aiden interrupts, holding up a paper shopping bag.
Noah narrows his eyes. "Did you go to the liquor store? I thought you were
getting flowers."
"Yeah, I brought tequila instead of flowers," Aiden scoffs. "Come on, give me
some credit."
"Flowers?"
"To say we were sorry," Aiden explains. "Because we made you uncomfortable
and shit at the campfire."
Now I cross my arms as I look at Noah. "You sent him to get flowers to
apologize, but you made me grovel?"
"Yeah," Aiden says smugly. "I guess we know who the real gentleman is here."
"What you did wasn't remotely groveling," Noah corrects me, pushing my skirt
up over my hips and gripping my bare ass with his hands. In the thirty seconds I'm
preoccupied with what Noah is doing, Aiden somehow manages to strip off his
clothes.
"Wow. That was fast," I observe.
"I'm sure that's what all the women say about him," Noah deadpans, and I slap
his arm playfully.
"You can grovel over here if you'd like." Aiden waggles his eyebrows
dramatically as he nods toward his hard cock.
Noah puts his hands on my forearms. "She doesn't have to grovel. She was
freaked out before."
"No shit." Aiden walks over to the chair, proudly displaying his nakedness.
"And neither of you were freaked out?" I ask, not sure whether to be impressed
or concerned by how blas they are about this entire thing.
Of course, they have no reason not to be, right? They're not the ones whose
father is in the middle of a re-election campaign. They're football players. It'll only
add to their reputations to be fucking the President's daughter if it were to become
public, but I'll be the punch line of locker room jokes for years. Fear should keep
me from doing this.
"Of course I was," Noah insists. "I told you that dickhead grabbed my ass." He
punctuates the statement by squeezing mine.
"I'd prefer not to repeat the snuggling experience again," Aiden says. "But
everything that happened before that"
"I'm cool with everything that happened before that," Noah echoes. His hands
go to the sides of my dress and I don't stop him as he tugs it over my head. Fear
takes a back seat to lust that overpowers everything else in the world.
As soon as the dress is gone, Aiden's hand is in my hair, pulling my head back as
arousal and adrenaline course through my veins.
"Shouldn't we" Shouldn't we talk about how crazy this is, or set some ground
rules, or not fucking do this?
Noah's hands slide up my body and cup my breasts. He slips off my bra and
tosses it to the side as Aiden pulls my hair back and leans over, kissing me hard on
the lips. His teeth drag across my tongue and catch my lip, and I arch into Noah's
touch. Screw talking. Or rules. "Fuck me," I whisper.
"Soon," Aiden promises.
"Shouldn't we what?" Noah asks, his voice thick.
Aiden glares at Noah. "Okay, do you trust that we wouldn't do anything to hurt
you?"
The expression on his face is so earnest. Is he only talking about sex?
"Yes," I answer.
Aiden leans close to me, his breath on my ear as he reaches between my legs,
brushing his fingers against my clit, then slipping them inside me again. I relax
into his masterful touch, barely flinching when I feel Noah spread my ass cheeks, a
finger pressing against my asshole. "You want to fuck both of us, don't you,
sugar?" Aiden whispers.
More than anything. Against every rational part of me that continues to scream,
"Don't do it! This is a bad idea!"
"Yes," I breathe instead. My palm is on Aiden's chest, my fingertips pressing
against his hard muscles as they twitch and flex.
"Both of us at once," Noah says, his voice low.
My heart stops. "Yes."
"Well, that's what the butt plug is for," Aiden whispers. "To get you ready for
both of us."
I breathe in sharply through my teeth. I'm not sure if I'm more scared or turned
on by the thought of both of them being inside me at the same time. "I've
definitely never done anything like that before," I whisper.
"We're not in a rush," Noah reassures me. "You decide when you want both of
us. Right, Aiden?"
Aiden strokes me with his fingers, his eyes locked on mine. "We definitely want
to take our time."
29
AIDEN
N oah and I take our time with Grace. I pick her up and carry her to Noah's desk,
her legs wrapped around my waist and my lips planted firmly on hers. We lay her
out on the surface, her legs splayed out and her perfect body fully on display for us.
Then both of us devour her. Our mouths are on her lips, her neck, her shoulders,
her breasts, her thighs and her perfect pink pussy. We take turns licking her,
fingering her, bringing her to the edge of orgasm over and over, but always pulling
away. We tease her until she's panting and desperate, all frustrated groans and
sighs and completely undone, the opposite of perfectly put-together Grace.
I want to see her like this every day totally unraveled, moaning and pleading,
her cheeks flushed with desire and need.
We don't let her touch either of us, not once, even though it would be so easy to
tell her to wrap her lush lips around our cocks and suck us dry. Instead, we focus
entirely on her until she's begging over and over for release.
"Please," she says again, her voice a cross between a whisper and a whine. Noah
looks up from where he is, bent with her breast in his mouth.
"I don't know, Aiden," he says. "What do you think?"
"I think," I start, my voice trailing off as I run my tongue up her wet slit, "that
Grace should tell us exactly what she wants."
"Yes," she breathes, as I pull her clit into my mouth. Her hips arch, and she
squeezes my head between her thighs, but I pull away, causing her to moan loudly
in frustration.
"Is this what you want?" Noah asks, guiding his cock toward her lips. She opens
her mouth, but he pauses just above her tongue.
"Tell us exactly," I demand, pausing to tear open a condom and roll it onto my
hard cock.
Her eyes flicker over me as I apply lube to the butt plug and show it to her.
"Yes," she whispers.
"Yes, what?" I ask.
"Yes to everything."
Yes to everything.
But that's not enough for Noah, who growls his response. "Tell me just how
much you want to wrap your lips around my cock," he says, as I push the butt plug
right to her entrance and pause there.
"I want your cock in my mouth," Grace moans. "I want to swallow you while
Aiden fucks me."
"And you want this?" I ask, pressing the lubed-up plug against her hole and
pushing to slide it slowly inside.
"Yes." She tenses initially, then relaxes, groaning as it settles inside her. Noah
grabs her hair and guides her mouth to his cock. She's lying on her back on the
desk, her head turned so that Noah can fuck her mouth, and her ass nearly off the
end of the desk so that I can fuck her.
And I'm definitely going to fuck her.
Now, there's no more foreplay, no teasing strokes or gentleness. My hands
under her thighs and pulling them against me for leverage, I slide easily into her
wet cunt. "Oh, fuck, you're tight," I groan, my breath catching as her tightness
envelops me.
"Her pussy is fucking perfect," Noah agrees, fisting her hair as he pumps his
cock inside her mouth.
Noah and I quickly fall into a rhythm, one at each end of Grace, her body jostling
back and forth as we fuck her. She makes little muted moaning sounds that get
quicker as our rhythm builds in speed. Noah is right; her pussy is fucking perfect.
It's warm and tight and so damn wet, I can't get enough. I want to feel her bare on
me, with no barrier between us.
I have no idea how long we fuck her. It seems like forever. Each thrust of my
cock inside her pushes the butt plug into her ass, and her moans turn into little
grunts. Her pussy swells around my cock, and it takes everything I have to wait
until she comes, her body convulsing and her pussy squeezing my cock so tightly I
can't help but let go inside her.
I pull her tightly against me, holding her thighs around me as I come in a whitehot explosion. Then Noah groans loudly, his hand still gripping her hair tightly as
he pumps into her mouth. She's moaning and swallowing and I can't fucking
believe I'm inside her, her pussy muscles milking me of everything, as I watch
Noah come in her mouth.
Everything about it feels incredibly wrong. Grace was right to freak out and run
when she did. Even I know this is a disaster waiting to happen. We can't just keep
fucking the President's daughter. Someone will find out and that would ruin all of
us. I'm supposed to play it clean and this is exactly the opposite of playing it
clean.
This is playing it really fucking dirty.
But then I look at Grace, her head tilted back against the surface of the desk, hair
mussed and eyes smudged with mascara. She probably thinks she looks like a train
wreck Grace is nothing if not totally put-together except she doesn't. I just
stand there for a second practically gaping at her because I want to memorize what
she looks like right now.
I want this picture permanently etched in my brain Grace on her back on the
desk, flushed and breathless after Noah and I ravished her.
Grace's hand goes to her hair and then to her lips, and she breaks eye contact,
looking suddenly self-conscious. "I don't know why I keep doing this," she says,
her voice soft.
I grin, playing it more casual and confident than I really am. "Yeah, you do,
sugar. Because for the first time in your life, you're having toe-curling sex and you
don't want to stop."
She lets out a loud exhale. "I don't want to stop, but I think about someone
finding out, or "
"Less thinking, more fucking," Noah growls. "Can we all agree on that?"
"I told you that if I got you in bed, I wasn't letting you out for a week," I remind
her.
"Double that time frame, since there's two of us," Noah says, his lips turned up
at the corners. "I hope you didn't have plans for two weeks."
Grace's eyebrows go up. "We have to leave here tomorrow."
"Well, it's a good thing we're very friendly neighbors."
30
NOAH
L ater, in my bed, Grace sits naked with her knees pulled protectively up to her
chest and her back against the pillows. For a few minutes, Aiden and I sit there on
either side of her and none of us say a damn thing.
It's really fucking awkward. The things we've done with her are some of the
filthiest and intimate I've ever done. We've come in her and on her, and now we're
all sitting here silent.
Fuck it. I might be all right with hanging out here at the ranch and stewing
silently, but that's when I'm alone, not when I'm with Grace. I slide my arm around
her shoulder, pulling her against me, and as she stretches out her legs, Aiden
reaches for them.
I exhale as she settles into me, her legs overlapping Aiden's. That's more like it.
Then Aiden breaks the silence. "What's that lock on the closet for?"
Grace giggles.
"Dead bodies," I say.
"Oh, God, it's all your yarn, isn't it? All of your knitting bullshit?"
"Fuck off."
Grace slaps me lightly on the chest. "You told me it was a big secret, that no one
knew about it."
"I thought no one knew about it," I grumble.
"I just want to know how you've been knitting stuff for years, and I'm your best
friend and I've never even gotten a damn scarf," Aiden complains.
"I'd like to put in another request for an ugly Christmas sweater," Grace
suggests.
"When you retire, this could be your second career. Knits by Noah Ashby. Ashby
Knits. Nah, the name needs more testosterone. Can you do anything other than
scarves?"
"Like knit men's sweaters?" asks Grace.
"That's not more manly," Aiden protests. "Cock sweaters. Now, that would be
more manly."
I groan. "Cock sweaters?"
Grace's hand goes to her mouth and she giggles again. "Or little penis hats?"
"It would have been a winning plan if your Secret Service agents had a better
sense of humor," Aiden points out.
"They don't," Grace informs us. "No one does, when it comes to me. Which is
why I don't date or Look, out here at the ranch, it's risky enough being with you.
But at least there's a plausible reason for us being in the same house. There's no
reason for you to be in my house or me in your house when we're back in Denver."
"Do your security people report to your father?" I ask.
"No," Grace says quickly. "Not really. I mean, I don't think they have. It was
part of the deal when I agreed to protection. But they could."
"And then they'd be out of a job, right?" I ask. Or at the very least, out of this
position guarding you, which honestly seems like a pretty cushy one.
"That's true," Grace agrees.
"Well, it's not like we're trying to broadcast what we're doing to the world,"
Aiden says.
"What What are we doing?" Grace asks.
"Well, you see, when two guys think a girl is hot and she won't choose between
either of them" I start.
"I mean, this is crazy," Grace protests. "I don't know how this is supposed to
work."
"I don't know how this is supposed to work, either," I tell her. "It's not like
Aiden and I have ever done this before."
"Well, you seem to know exactly what you're doing."
Aiden grins and reaches over to high-five me. "We're naturally skilled."
"And modest," Grace adds.
"Why be modest when you're this good?" Aiden replies.
"I've never done anything like this before," I reiterate.
"Neither have I," Aiden says quickly. "Not even with any cheerleaders."
Grace laughs. "That's good to know."
"The point is, we don't know what the damn rules are either," I tell her.
"We should make our own," Aiden says.
"The only rule we need is that you don't grab my fucking ass," I grumble. "Or try
to cuddle with me."
"And no crossing swords," Aiden says. "I don't want to touch your"
"Throbbing manhood?" Grace suggests.
"Neither of us touch each other's junk," I interrupt. "That should be assumed."
"And in the case of accidental touching, there's no mention of it again," Aiden
says.
"Total silence," I agree. "Also, you're ours."
Aiden nods. "I think that's a given."
"Excuse me?" Grace asks.
"You heard me," I say, squeezing her ass cheek again. The gesture sends arousal
coursing through me and my cock twitches. "Youre ours. We claimed you."
"All of you," Aiden reiterates. "In the shower."
Grace face flushes scarlet. "I remember," she says. "I'm not some kind of toy,
you know. Or your property."
"I guess now isn't the time to bring up the 'Property of Aiden and Noah' tattoo
we wanted you to get?" Aiden asks.
"Property of Noah and Aiden," I say.
"Alphabetical order is only fair," Aiden argues.
"Bigger dick goes first," I reply.
"Oh, so it would still be me."
Grace sighs loudly. "Are you two finished?"
"Not quite," I tell her, sliding my hand between her legs and pushing her thighs
open. Aiden holds her right leg so that she's wide open between us, and I slide my
fingers between her legs. "Rule number one the real one this time - is that this is
ours and only ours."
"The two of you are pigs," Grace whispers, but her breath catches when my
finger begins circling her clit.
"We're possessive," Aiden says and Grace laughs. "Is there something funny
about that?"
"I haven't been with anyone in two years," Grace says. "And now I'm hooking
up with two men."
I'm hooking up with two men. The way she says it, casually like it's no big deal,
sends a pang of irritation through me. Except it isn't a big deal. It can't be, not with
who she is, and who we are and the fact that I'm negotiating with teams outside
of Colorado. But when I hear her say it that way, it sounds wrong somehow.
It also feels wrong that I haven't told her I'm taking offers from teams outside
Colorado. But I shove that thought aside.
"Well, you can hook up with just one of us if you want to," Aiden says.
"Obviously, I'd be the better choice, especially since I'm stay"
Staying in Colorado. That's what that fucker is about to say. I interrupt him. "Or
we can just pass you back and forth," I joke.
"Wow, I can't imagine why either of you are single," Grace says. "First you own
me, now you're talking about passing me back and forth? You really know how to
sweet-talk a girl."
"I'm better when I'm not talking," Aiden admits, grinning as he pulls himself
up and moves between Grace's legs. I watch as he dips his face to her pussy and
drags his tongue up the middle, stopping suddenly to look up. "Wait. Can we?"
"Can you what?" she asks, already distracted. My cock hardens at the sight of
Grace like this, her back arched and her breasts in the air, nipples erect like perfect
little buttons.
"Can we proceed if one of us isn't around?" Aiden asks.
"Uh-huh," she moans, her hand on Aiden's head as he buries his face between
her legs. She reaches for my cock, wrapping her hand around my shaft as Aiden
eats her. "If you and Aiden want to fool around with each other when I'm not
around, that's fine."
She yelps, the sound turning into a long moan as Aiden thrusts his fingers inside
her. "Just for that, I'm not going to let you come until both of us do," he says, and I
agree.
We're true to our word, too. Aiden brings her to the edge over and over until
she's panting and breathless and wanting. She sits upright against a mountain of
pillows with his face between her legs, and I kneel in front of her. When she wraps
her lips around my cock, it's all I can do not to thrust my length down her throat. I
hold back, even when I'm pulling her hair and fucking her mouth. I hold back even
when the moaning sounds she makes send vibrations up my cock that make me
want to come that instant. I hold back because I can't get enough of her warm wet
mouth on my cock. I can't get enough of the way she looks up at me as she sucks
me, the way her eyes try to close as she heads towards climax, the look of
frustration on her face when Aiden pulls away and doesn't let her come.
It's the look of frustration that does me in. I let go, filling her mouth, and she
swallows every last drop.
Then we switch places, Aiden's cock in her mouth and me between her legs. The
ultimate good girl prim, proper, raised by the President - arches her hips up and
squeezes my head between her thighs, trying desperately to fuck my face as she
sucks another man's cock, right after I just came down her throat. There's
something about how filthy, forbidden, and crazy this is that makes it impossible to
resist.
And I'm done with resisting it. I want Aiden and I to fuck the hell out of this girl
and I just don't want to stop.
31
GRACE
"A ren't there secret tunnels under the White House and shit?" Aiden asks,
spearing another forkful of pancake. We're sitting at a long farmhouse table in
the kitchen with a ridiculous amount of breakfast food on platters in the middle of
the table not plates, but platters. The kind you'd use to serve a large family. Noah
scrambled a dozen eggs, fried up a pound of bacon, and made a stack of pancakes a
mile high. It's one in the morning, and both of them insisted they couldn't possibly
sleep on empty stomachs, so here we are, sitting around the table. Noah and Aiden
are in shorts and t-shirts and I'm wearing one of Noah's shirts that's
approximately twenty sizes too large for me. Sitting here with them is familiar and
comfortable and so damn easy.
Noah rolls his eyes. "Strippers aren't coming into the White House through
secret tunnels."
"Just saying. There had to be a way for Marilyn to get in to see JFK," Aiden says,
pointing at us with his fork.
"You literally know nothing about politics, but secret tunnels and Marilyn
Monroe, these are the things you retain in your brain?"
Aiden grins. "It's a gift."
"It's something." Noah snorts.
"The Playboy mansion had secret tunnels under it too," Aiden points out. "In
the seventies. True fact I read it on the internet."
"When did you learn to read?" Noah asks.
"Wow, Noah. Sex really makes you funny," Aiden replies. "Wait, nope, it
doesn't."
"Have you two always been like this?" I ask.
"You mean brilliant and charming?" Aiden asks.
"She means you're annoying," Noah chides.
I laugh. "That is not what I meant."
"We're worse when we go back to West Bend," Aiden says.
"You mean, you're worse." Noah shakes his head and munches on a piece of
bacon. "Keeping him from doing stupid shit used to be my full-time job."
Aiden snorts. "He's a liar. He used to do plenty of it with me."
"Nope," Noah disagrees. "Remember when you tied mattresses to yourself and
got on our roof and jumped off?"
Aiden laughs. "I'm lucky Mama Ashby didn't kick me out on my ass after that.
She was pissed. I mean, cat-in-a-bath pissed off. You were the one doing the tying,
though, so don't act like you're all innocent and I was just a stupid kid."
"Did it work?" I ask, laughing. "The mattresses, I mean. Did they cushion you?"
"Obviously, they did not. He hit his head," Noah says.
Aiden grins. "It's okay, my brains are all in the head between my legs."
"Say what you will about him, but at least he's honest," Noah says.
"Your poor mothers," I say, then immediately regret my words, thinking of
Aiden's mother who died. "I didn't mean "
"It's okay," Aiden reassures me. "Shit, if my mom were alive, she'd say the
same thing. I gave her so much grief as a kid. Hell, Noah and I both did. If we
weren't getting into trouble at his house, we were getting into it at mine."
"It sounds fun," I say. "Small town life, I mean."
"Says the girl who grew up jet-setting around the world," Aiden replies.
"Uh no," I say, laughing. "I mean, sure, boarding school in Switzerland "
Aiden and Noah raise their eyebrows dramatically and give each other
meaningful looks as they pick up their glasses, pinkies extended.
"It wasn't like that," I protest.
"Boarding school in Switzerland wasn't fancy?" Noah asks, his voice skeptical.
"It was a little fancy " I start.
"Were there uniforms?" Aiden shovels a bite of what has to be his sixth pancake
into his mouth.
"At boarding school? Yes, but "
"Plaid skirt?" Noah asks, suddenly enthralled with where this conversation is
going.
"Navy blue, but "
"Pleated?" Noah asks.
"Pigtails and a white shirt, tied up under your " Aiden starts.
"No, boarding school was not a Britney Spears music video," I say primly. "It
was serious."
"You were a nerd, weren't you?" Noah asks.
"Not really."
Were you valedictorian? Noah asks.
Did you research me?
Just a hunch.
Fine. Yes, I was valedictorian.
Totally a nerd, Aiden says. Did you date any jocks?
In high school or in college? I ask.
Either.
I exhale. No.
No jocks, huh? Noah asks, eating a bite of eggs. What was your type, then?
32
GRACE
I thought that the return to Denver, back to my normal life and the foundation,
would take whatever was happening between Noah and Aiden and I down a notch.
After all, the threat of my security detail leaking details of my personal life to my
parents is hanging over me like a black cloud.
Except that threat hasn't done anything to dampen what's happening with the
three of us.
Ive become reckless - completely and utterly reckless. I told Brooks and Davis
that I was working on a football-related charity project with Aiden and Noah that
required visits to their house and vice-versa.
It was quite possibly the stupidest thing Ive ever said to anyone while keeping a
straight face. To their credit, they didnt flinch or say anything other than Noted,
maam.
I havent gotten any frantic phone calls from my parents, so Brooks and Davis
havent ratted me out yet. I tell myself that Secret Service agents keep all kinds of
secrets, that even if they suspected anything they have zero evidence that anything
untoward is happening. I tell myself that theyre professionals.
Unlike me. I used to be a professional, but my level of professionalism might be
very quickly spiraling downward.
Your call with Robert Brownstone was rescheduled. Janices voice is loud over
the speaker on the phone.
Perfect. Ill catch up on
Wait. The call was rescheduled, so I slid a donor into the spot, Janice says.
Hes here now.
Great. I keep my voice cheerful, even though I really would rather watch paint
dry than schmooze a donor right now.
At least, thats true until I see who the donor is.
Ms. Sullivan, Noah says, his words clipped, his tone professional. Hes
wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and his hair is wet, like he just got out of the
shower.
Mr. Ashby, I say, extending my hand to shake his. Electricity runs through me
at his mere touch and my body aches for him, despite seeing him and Aiden last
night. He holds my hand a few moments too long before releasing it. Janice, how
much time do I have?
Thirty minutes, she says before answering another call.
Plenty of time, Noah says gruffly, his eyes locked on mine. I turn around, the
throbbing between my legs almost too intense to bear as I walk back to the office
with Noah behind me. I can feel his gaze on me as I walk. Inside the office, he
closes the door and locks it immediately, his hand going straight to the nape of my
neck before I even turn around. I couldnt wait until tonight.
Who said there was going to be a tonight? I whisper as he pushes me forward,
going straight to the window that overlooks a busy street. He puts my palms flat on
the glass, his hands going to my skirt and yanking it up at the sides.
Theres going to be a tonight, he growls, his voice low in my ear.
You didnt even ask if this window was see-through from the outside, I
whisper, as he hikes my skirt over my backside and yanks my panties down my
thighs.
If this window was see-through, you wouldn't have let me pull up your skirt,
Grace," Noah growls.
Okay, so maybe I'm not that reckless. I might be reckless enough to let Noah
Ashby pull my panties off and push me up against my office window, but not
reckless enough to screw him in public.
Yet.
At the rate I'm losing my inhibitions, I may be fucking Noah and Aiden in the
damn White House next week.
That should strike fear into my heart, but in this moment, all I can think about is
how much I want them.
Aidens not with you, I say, half a question and half a statement, but I'm
immediately distracted by Noahs fingers between my legs.
Fuck, youre so damn wet already, Noah growls. He doesnt need to tell me to
spread my legs. I step wider to give him access, like some kind of reflex, and he
pushes his fingers inside me so easily.
I think Im wet all the time, I whisper. I think Im walking around in a
constant state of arousal now, between being fucked by them and thinking about
being fucked by them. Its a high, some kind of addiction theyve triggered, and I
dont want to come down from it.
Aiden's coming soon. Right now, youre all mine.
Oh, God. Im close to coming already myself.
This pussy is so wet for me, Grace, Noah whispers, his voice gruff. So ready
all the time. Tell me how ready you are.
I whimper softly as he pulls his fingers from between my legs and the crinkle of
a condom wrapper fills the room. Im so ready, I whisper.
Tell me how much you want me to fuck you, Noah growls. Tell me how much
you want to feel my cock inside you.
I cant resist reaching between my legs to rub my clit. I want to feel your hard
cock inside -
He doesnt wait until Im finished telling him before he enters me. With one
long, swift thrust, he's inside me. I breathe in sharply at the sensation of fullness,
at his hands on my breasts through my shirt, at the way he pulls me against him
over and over as he begins to fuck me.
This isnt like other times he and Aiden have fucked me, when theyve taken
their time, brought me to the edge over and over just to torment me before letting
me have my release. This time is raw. It's primal. It's all about taking the edge off. I
think thats true for both of us.
He fucks me hard, and I meet every one of his thrusts with mine, pushing my ass
back against him, one palm on the window and another on my clit. Im just as
greedy as he is, not waiting for my pleasure but taking it from him, losing myself in
him as he thrusts faster and faster inside me. His hand is on my hair, pulling my
head back, using it for leverage as he rides me.
God, I want to come inside you, sweetheart, Noah growls, his hand yanking
my hair for emphasis, sending shocks of pain radiating through me, that are mixed
with pleasure. I think Im drunk, intoxicated by my near-climax, my fingers
moving faster and faster over my clit as I fly higher and higher.
Oh God, I want you to come inside me, I beg. I want to feel you. The thought
of him and Aiden, both bare inside me, both filling me up with their hot cum,
makes me climax. I dont just crash over the edge; I fucking free-fall, my cry muted
only when Noah puts his hand over my mouth to muffle me. Im lost, biting down
on his fingers because otherwise Im going to scream for the entire world to hear.
But in this moment, I dont care because my climax is blinding, white-hot and allconsuming.
Im hardly aware of Noah pulling out of me, barely aware of his muffled groan. I
just barely decipher his words: Arch your back, sweetheart. And I do. As I arch
my back and push up my ass, from the corner of my eye I see him rip off the
condom and toss it on the ground.
Then he comes on me. He comes on my ass and my pussy, and it drips down the
sides of my thighs. He comes on me in the middle of my very professional office
with its very professional dcor. He comes on me with my skirt pulled up to my
waist and my panties pulled down my thighs.
Then he leans close to me, his breath wafting over my skin. "You're like a damn
drug," he whispers. "I can't get enough of you like this."
I shiver. "I know."
"Aiden is in the lobby downstairs," he says, pulling my panties up. They're
damp, a mixture of him and me, but he doesn't wipe me off. He pulls my skirt down
over my ass and tugs the fabric down my thighs. "I think you still have fifteen
minutes before your next call. I'll see you later tonight."
He kisses the back of my neck, and turns, walking out of the office and shutting
the door behind him, leaving me throbbing and filthy and used. I feel dirty and sexy
and out-of-control. It's terrifying and exciting and I don't want it to stop.
unprotected, to feel his skin against mine as he fucks me. But he doesn't. He
sheathes himself with a condom and presses his wrapped cock against me, without
entering me.
"Unbutton your shirt," he says, his voice husky. "Unbutton it and take out your
tits. I know they're so sensitive."
I do it, sliding the cups of my bra over my breasts and cupping them with my
hands. My fingers play with my nipples, and they become almost immediately
erect. I let out a little moan as Aiden enters me, one hand on my hip and the other
reaching around to touch my clit. His grasp on me ensures he's buried deep inside
me, his cock pressed into me as far as he can possibly go. He doesn't pull back to
fuck me. Instead, he remains buried deep inside me, rubbing my clit in circles as he
rocks gently against the spot in me that makes my toes curl.
"You like that Noah and I came to your office, don't you? We've claimed you
right here in your office."
I bite on my lip to keep from moaning out loud, tasting blood.
Then he stops dirty-talking to me and the only sound in the room is him fucking
me with short thrusts. My palms slip on the wooden desktop and several papers go
flying to the ground, but I don't fall.
I'm so caught up in my desire that I almost don't register the sound when Janice
buzzes through.
"Ms. Sullivan," she says. "It's your phone call with the First Lady."
With Aiden still lodged inside me, I reach for the speaker button on the phone.
Aiden puts his hand on mine. "The First Lady, huh?" he whispers. "Take the call."
"Aiden, I can't..."
"Do it," he growls. "Take the call."
I press the button on the phone, my heart nearly about to pump right the hell
out of my chest. "Put her through, Janice."
Adrenaline courses through my veins. I've never done something so wrong. I've
never taken risks like this, never dared to defy her, always said "Okay, mother" and
"Sounds like a good idea" and done what they've asked of me. And now, I'm not
only not in an appropriate relationship with an important person, but I'm fucking
two football players. And one of them is about to be inside me while I talk to her on
the phone. It doesn't get any more inappropriate than that.
Aiden stays lodged firmly inside me, bending over and pulling me against him so
that he can touch my breasts as my mother's voice comes over the speakerphone,
loud and shrill. "I can't believe I have to get on my own daughter's schedule to talk
with her during the day," she starts.
Aiden pinches my nipple between his fingers, sending a rush of arousal through
me that almost makes me yelp, but I work to hold back my cry. "I have to pencil you
into my calendar to make sure you get my... undivided... attention," I say, my
breath catching as Aiden begins to rock inside me again.
"I'm sure," she says, her voice tight. "You sound distracted." Her voice gets
lower as she turns to talk to bark an order at someone in the room with her.
"Nope, not... distracted... at... all," I say, my voice coming out much more
breathy than I intend as Aiden fucks me slowly from behind.
"Have you looked at the files I gave you? You can choose any of the men in there
as a potential interest, she says.
Aiden stops moving, instead gripping the flesh of my ass cheek hard at the
words "potential interest". I look at him over my shoulder, glaring at him and
mouthing the words, "She's crazy."
"I told you that I'm not "
"Don't give me your excuses, Grace," she snaps. "You need to get on board. Your
father's agreed to a family interest piece and your new boyfriend is going to be
there with you. Pick one."
Aiden thrusts inside me harder now, deeper. I feel his thumb against my
asshole, his touch insistent. Angry, even.
Heaven help me, it makes me hotter. His touch makes my skin erupt in goose
bumps, sends arousal coursing through me all the way down to my toes, and I can
barely keep myself from crying out.
"I'll talk to you about... I can't just be picking... someone," I say, trying to keep
my voice smooth as Aiden thrusts inside me with each word. I'm losing my mind
now, losing my train of thought, and definitely losing my ability to put up with my
mother's insistence on finding me a man. "I... oh, God."
"What on Earth else could you have going on that would prevent you from going
out on a simple date with an eligible man?" she asks.
Aiden fucks me harder now, his finger pressing into my asshole up to his
knuckle, his dick bringing me higher and higher. My hand slips now, and a letter
organizer goes tumbling to the floor with a crash as I try to right myself, sending
papers scattering all over the office.
"What is that sound?" my mother asks.
"Nothing... ugh," I moan, then bite on my lip as I right myself on the desk. Oh
God, I'm so close. My pussy is tightening more and more around him, swelling as
his thrusts get more frequent and more urgent. I know he's about to come and it
pushes me closer and closer to the edge.
"Are you coming down with something?" my mother asks. "We have a family
interview scheduled after July fourth, so if you need to see Dr. Greene, make sure
you see him."
"I think I am... oh God, I think I am... coming..." I blurt out the words as my
orgasm overtakes me like a freight train. I grip the sides of the desk, biting my
tongue literally - as I climax right here in the office with my assistant just
outside, and my mother, the First Lady of the United States, on speakerphone. I
gulp big breaths of air, gasping as I try to maintain control even through the haze of
my orgasm, trying to finish the sentence so it's not completely nonsensical. "I am
coming down with something."
Aiden pulls out, spinning me around and shoving me hard up against the desk,
the edge of the top pushing against my ass cheeks. He yanks off the condom,
dropping it on the floor. His eyes never leave mine as he strokes himself furiously.
"You'll need a boyfriend for the interview," my mother says. "They're already
vetted. They're all appropriate."
"Appropriate," whispers Aiden. "Fuck appropriate."
"What was that?" my mother asks. "Did you say something?"
"I said I don't know about that," I say, pausing as Aiden narrows his eyes, his
expression dark. Then he comes. I lean against the desk with my legs spread for
him, my panties stuck around my thighs as Aiden Jackson comes on my pussy. I
watch in fascination as my mother keeps talking, the First Lady of the United States
providing the shrill, judgmental background noise for Aiden defacing me with his
cum. It drips from his cock as he rubs the head of his cock over my clit, sliding to
the entrance of my pussy, cum still dripping from the tip.
"Then I'll choose," my mother snaps.
"I'm not discussing this now," I say, cutting her off.
"Don't think this is the last conversation we're going to have about this, Grace
Monroe.
I cough loudly. "Oh, God, my throat is just so sore. I'm going to have to go,
now." I pause for a second, about to rebel again. "Mom."
"Grace, I've told you a thousand times not to call me that. What on earth has
gotten into you-
I fake a sneeze and hang up the phone.
Holy shit. I just hung up the phone on my mother. The First Lady.
I've never done something so irresponsible.
My hand goes to my mouth. "I can't believe I did that.
"Fuck me while your mother was talking to you?" Aiden grins broadly.
"That too," I say, gasping. Oh God, I did. I fucked him while talking to my
mother. What the hell is wrong with me? "Hang up on her."
"You really are the most straight-laced little thing," Aiden says, grinning as he
pulls my panties onto my pussy, still covered in his and Noah's cum.
"Shut up." That's the wittiest I can be after all of that.
"So about those files " Aiden says, his expression intense.
I roll my eyes. "She's trying to set me up."
"You'll need to tell them no," Aiden growls, drawing me tight against him. He's
warm and when he wraps his arms around me, I feel safe and insulated from
everything outside of us.
"Why?" I ask. "Are you jealous, Aiden Jackson?"
"You're damn right I am," he growls. "And so will Noah will be too if he finds
out. We said you were ours and we meant it." He pulls away from me, reaching for
my skirt and straightening it. "And think about that when you're wearing those
cum-soaked panties today. I want you to walk around smelling like sex. Smelling
like us."
"That's disgusting," I whisper. It is disgusting. So why does the thought of
walking around with them between my legs the rest of the day, sitting in meetings
33
AIDEN
Y ou went to Noahs ranch with Grace Sullivan and you didnt even tell me?
Annie squeals. I hold the phone away from me because shes so loud.
I didnt tell you because it wasnt a big deal, I lie. It was a very big deal. It was
this charity thing and -
Im a poly-sci major, Noah! You hung out with the daughter of the President
and thats not a big deal to you?
Say something, I mouth, glaring at Noah and pointing toward the phone.
Noah shrugs. We didnt really hang out with her that much.
Technically, thats true. We didnt hang-out at the ranch as much as we did fuck
her. And cuddle with her. And fuck her some more.
And then we came back to the real world, back to our regular lives in Denver,
back to Noahs new neighborhood and the place where Grace Sullivan is his nextdoor neighbor. The same neighbor we cant seem to stop meeting with at our
house or hers - that's the obviously bullshit excuse she gives her security detail.
The same neighbor that I fucked while she was on the phone with the First Lady.
We definitely didnt just hang out with her.
So are you friends, then? Annie asks.
Noah and I are silent for a moment too long. What the hell are we? Yeah, I
guess, I say, trying to sound casual. Except were not just friends.
I don't want to let this girl out of our bed. Even more, Im starting to really like
having her around. Thats something Ive never been able to say about a woman
before.
We hardly know her, Noah says. Sorry to disappoint you.
I mean, shes Noahs neighbor, so really thats all-
Shes your neighbor? Annie asks. You guys dont tell me anything. Oh my
God, you should ask her to come to the Fourth of July celebration!
Banana, thats not happening, I start before Noah chimes in.
Grace isnt going to want to come to West Bend for the Fourth of July, Noah
says firmly.
Why not? Annie asks. Wait. You call her Grace?
Thats her name, Noah answers. "What else am I supposed to call her? Her
Colorado?
A flicker of annoyance crosses over Noahs face. Nothing's certain, he
grumbles. So Ill tell her when it comes up.
I shake my head. Its dishonest.
She's never asked, and it's not like it's a big secret. It's all over the media.
Youre only concerned about my honesty, right? Noah asks. Your concern
wouldnt have anything to do with the fact that you might want Grace all to
yourself, would it?
Noah stomps off to the gym without another word, the way he always does when
hes really upset. But he knows I'm right. He knows that he should tell her.
Shit, Im actually not even trying to get Grace all to myself. I've gotten used to
the three of us being together. We've settled into a familiar rhythm. Sure, being
with her the other day when we were alone was hot as hell, but being with her after
Noah had fucked her was even hotter.
Its not just the screwing, though. Its having her around here - laughing,
stretched out casually across both of us after shes come three times, her face
lighting up as she tells us a story about the kids shes worked with through her
charities. Its the way she breathes at night when shes asleep, this little almostsnore she makes thats so damn cute.
I think I might finally understand the term pussy-whipped. Yesterday, an exhook-up texted me a shot of her boobs and I replied to tell her I was off the market.
The idea of me, Aiden Jackson, being off the market is ridiculous. But it was the
only thing I wanted to say.
The thought of Grace's mother setting her up with some asshole in a suit makes
me want to throttle him with my bare hands. All I know is that I want Grace to be
ours - mine and Noah's. I want her in our bed and I don't want to let her go.
34
NOAH
scratch.
Well, had you grown up near us, it would have involved drinking moonshine
and scratching your balls, I tell her.
"Well then, I stand corrected."
"Luckily, I can take care of one of the things on your list of stuff you've never
done. You're going to sit your ass down and have some moonshine," Aiden says.
"Where are you going to get moonshine?"
"Aiden is an idiot savant when it comes to the booze," I tell her. "He distills it.
Hes been doing it since we were in high school.
"Since high school?!
"Damn straight," Aiden says.
"I thought that was something people made in Kentucky, not Colorado.
I exhale under my breath, shaking my head. "Now youve done it. You're in for a
lecture."
"There's a long and noble history of bootlegging shine throughout this fair
country," Aiden starts, his intonation formal.
"Just go get it for her," I interrupt. "I don't feel like hearing a giant speech about
bootlegging tonight, if its all the same to you.
Dont worry, Aiden says, looking at Grace. Ill save it for another time.
She laughs. Lucky me.
Aiden returns with two glass canning jars and sets them in the middle of the
coffee table. "Lemonade and blackberry," he says.
"You made this yourself, Grace says skeptically, her eyebrows raised.
Thats right. Lemonade and blackberry because were coming into summer. I
make seasonal flavors.
I nod. If youre a member of our family, you get a jar of shine from Aiden for
Christmas.
Dude, whatever, you make it sound like I give out coal. I give other presents,
too.
Arent you not supposed to make this stuff? Isnt it illegal? Grace asks.
Youre sleeping with a rebel, baby, Aiden says. And the accomplice to my
crimes.
But this stuff can kill you, cant it? Arent there regulations for a reason?
Aiden rolls his eyes and sighs loudly, plopping down into his seat. Yeah, if you
don't know what the hell you're doing. I, on the other hand, know exactly what I'm
doing."
Grace raises her eyebrows and eyes the jars of shine. "You sure?"
Aiden sighs. "Dude, tell her I know what I'm doing."
I nod. "He does know what he's doing. Seriously. He's a weirdo with how much
he knows about this stuff."
"I learned from the best," Aiden says.
"He learned it in West Bend."
"You learned how to brew alcohol while you were kids?
Aiden shrugs. "I learned it from Old Man Johnson. He hired me on his farm for a
few summers, and he had a still. He used to make it. I ended up having a knack for
it.
"And seriously, we were high school kids with access to free booze hell, with a
way of making it ourselves, I tell her. He couldnt have had a better hobby.
I thought you were a saint, Grace says.
"Yeah, but I still got shithoused on Saturday nights," I say. "There wasn't
anything else to do in town."
My moonshine has never killed a single person, Aiden says. I havent even
blinded anyone.
"Well, that's a ringing endorsement if I ever heard one," Grace jokes. "I'm a
total lightweight, though."
"Oh yeah?" Aiden asks. "So if you have a few sips of this, you'll be dancing on
the table and taking your clothes off?"
"That's a good possibility."
"Well, hell, drink up then," I tell her, and she swats my arm.
"Okay," she says. "Do you have a glass?"
Aiden rolls his eyes. "I didn't realize the President's daughter would be so highmaintenance. Now you want a glass. Next you'll be wanting silverware."
"Fine," Grace says, reaching for one of the jars. "Do I drink this illegal
concoction straight?"
She picks up the jar, but right before she puts it to her lips, Aiden yells, Wait!
Oh my God, youre going to give me a heart attack. What!?
Aiden guffaws. If this kills you, did I just assassinate the Presidents
daughter?
I certainly wouldnt mind if you got thrown in a secret CIA cell somewhere, I
tell him.
Definitely. It's totally an assassination if this kills me. Probably even treason,"
Grace deadpans.
Okay. I was just checking. Carry on. Aiden grins.
Grace takes a sip of the lemonade moonshine, her face screwing up. "Oh God,
that's pretty strong. Strong and good. I told you Im a lightweight, right?"
HALF AN HOUR LATER, and we definitely know that Grace is a lightweight. She is very
tipsy, despite only having a few sips of the moonshine. She's sitting on the patio
furniture, her legs stretched out on me while Aiden reclines in an armchair across
from us, his feet on the table. We've been passing the moonshine around and as a
result, Grace's cheeks are flushed light pink and she's far more animated and
giggly than she normally is.
We're sitting around talking about the things we've never done, and Grace has
never been skinny-dipping.
"I was saying something important," she insists, then starts giggling.
"Go on."
She stares blankly at both of us for a minute, then sighs. "Nope. It's gone. I
can't remember."
"You were saying that" Aiden starts.
"Oh!" She holds her hand up. "Happy. I don't know if I've ever been happy."
"You just said you were happy," Aiden says.
"I am. That's what I just said," she says, exaggeratedly frustrated. "I'm happy
right now. Here. I'm happy here. Oh, and skinny dipping."
"Let's focus on the skinny dipping," Aiden says. "Nudity is my favorite topic of
conversation."
"We can fix the never-been-skinny-dipping thing," I point out. "The pool is
right there."
Aiden rolls his eyes. "That's bullshit skinny dipping. It doesn't count unless it's
a public place where you can get caught."
"If we're loud, the Secret Service agents might hear us and catch us," Grace
points out.
"Well, shit, that's good enough for me." Aiden stands and starts undressing.
"Get your ass out of that chair and take those clothes off, sugar."
"What? Now? The water is going to be cold," she protests.
"I know. The pool isn't even heated," I agree.
"No excuses. We're checking two things off your list of shit you've never done,
right here and now: drinking moonshine and getting naked in the pool. Move it,
girl."
Grace mock-salutes as she stands. "Yes, sir."
"Ooh, I like the sound of that," Aiden says.
Grace shimmies out of her shirt and jeans, then starts for the pool clad in her
bra and panties until Aiden stops her. "What?"
"Nice try. Take it all off, sugar. Besides, we've already seen the goods. Fuck,
we've already been inside you tonight."
Grace swats at him. "You're so crude. Both of you."
"What did I say?" I ask innocently.
"You were thinking the same thing," she accuses.
"What?! Never," I lie.
She leaves her bra and panties in a heap on the ground. "If my nipples freeze off,
it's your fault," she says before running across the patio and jumping straight into
the pool. She hits the water and lets out a little shriek. "Oh my God, it's really not
heated, is it?"
The three of us make it in the pool for all of about ten minutes. Inside the house,
I wrap Grace in a giant bath towel and she stumbles against me. "I think I might be
a little drunk," she says.
"Checking more off your bucket list," Aiden says, grinning.
"You guys are bad influ influencesh," she says.
35
GRACE
I m surprised you made it out of the house, Vi says, putting her champagne
"THIS IS NOT the kind of press your father needs right now," my mother hisses. She
stands in my living room wearing a light blue suit and a pillbox hat. A fucking hat.
She flew here wearing this outfit, like she'd dressed up to be photographed for the
cover of a magazine fifty years ago. She looks insane. The fact that she's standing
here, gesturing wildly as she berates me doesn't make her look any less crazy.
"I just can't believe you flew to Colorado to lecture me about something so
stupid," I snap. "I'm an adult. Even if I were in a relationship with Vi, which is
"Yes," I say, thinking of the quarterly report and the decrease in donations. "I
mean, no. I don't need you to attend functions or lean on one of your corporate
buddies."
"I'd never do that," my father says, his tone the same one he uses when he talks
to the press. "In fact, I'm shocked that you'd even suggest something like that."
More of my dad's ass-covering in case the NSA is listening in, even though this
is a secure phone line. I think he does it without even thinking about it now, his
self-preservation instinct. I roll my eyes hard. "I'm not doing it, Dad. You can
figure something else out."
"Why are you being so difficult, Gracie?" he asks. "It's not like you. You've
always understood that we all do what it takes to help the campaign. The campaign
is the important thing."
"Yeah, its always the important thing," I blurt out, before he can stop me, or
before I can chicken out and just go along with his grand plan. "Dad? I have to go.
36
AIDEN
I can hear you, Grace whispers back. Im literally standing right behind
you.
We just cant believe you wanted to come to West Bend for the Fourth of July,
Noah says. Or that you didnt have something to attend at the White House.
A look of irritation passes across her face, but I cant tell if shes irritated at us or
at the mention of the White House. The First Lady showed up at her house the
other day, I know that much, and Grace was grumpy as hell afterward. It took three
orgasms before she was less stressed out. Then when Noah mentioned the Fourth
of July celebration in West Bend, Grace agreed immediately, surprising both of us.
She shrugged off any mention of the White House celebration, saying that her
parents didnt decide where she could spend the holidays.
Noah and I stayed far away from that topic of conversation ever since.
"Boys!" Bess calls. She walks from the living room to the entryway, her arms
outstretched wide, drawing Aiden and I in for hugs before she turns to Grace. "And
Ms. Sullivan, we are just so honored to have you here."
Grace blushes as Bess hugs her without blinking. "Mrs. Ashby, call me Grace,"
she says. "And I'm the one who should be thanking you for letting me join you for
dinner. I hope my security wasn't too much of an imposition."
"Well, it's not every day my house gets swept for bugs," Bess says, putting her
hands on her hips. "At least not the listening-device kind of bugs anyway. And call
me Bess, everyone does or Mama Ashby. No one calls me Mrs., though, not even
Paul."
Paul pokes his head out of the living room. "Get in here, now."
"Holy shit, Dad, are you wearing a tie?" Noah asks.
"Language, Noah Ashby," Bess snaps. "I'm sorry. My boys weren't actually
raised by wolves, although they act like it."
Grace covers a smile with her hand. "It's all right. I've gotten used to it."
Bess stops for a second midstride, and I can't see her face because her back is
toward me, but I know exactly why she stopped. She just caught what Grace said
I've gotten used to it.
If there's anyone who would see right through all of this bullshit and our "just
acquaintances" story, it's Bess. She's sharp as hell.
I clear my throat. "Where's Annie? I thought she'd be all over Grace the second
she stepped through the door." I turn to Grace. "My sister is really into politics, so
be prepared. I'm pretty sure she thinks you're a real celebrity."
"What are you talking about?" Grace grins. "I'm totally a real celebrity."
"It's nice how you've remained so modest and unassuming," Noah quips.
"The backyard is all set up," Bess says. "Now, I know you said it couldn't be a big
thing, what with Grace coming and all, but you know Annie. It's just a few of her
friends. We tried to keep it to a minimum, though."
"Mom," Noah warns. "It can't be a big thing."
"It's okay," Grace says.
"Noah Ashby, give me a little bit of credit," Bess says, shaking her head. "You
said this needed to be private, so your father confiscated cell phones and locked
them up. No cameras, no phones."
"Oh, you shouldn't have to go to all that trouble," Grace says.
"Trouble?" Bess asks. "I've been wanting to take cell phones from that kid and
her friends for years. All the kids have those stupid phones in their faces all the
time, with their selfies and their twittering and their chats and snaps. I want to see
my Annie before she flits off to Europe for two months and I want to see her face
without a phone blocking my view. So, taking their cell phones away from them
was my pleasure."
"Well, then, I'm glad I could be the excuse for cell phone confiscation," Grace
says, smiling.
As we follow Paul and Bess inside, Bess puts her arm around Grace's shoulder.
"Now, my boys tell me that you're neighbors. They're not being rude and
inconsiderate neighbors, are they?"
Noah groans. "Mom, do you think she'd be here if she hated us?"
"Grace, you don't have to answer her questions," I tell her.
"I'm not interrogating her, boys," Bess says, smiling sweetly. "Why don't you
go on and get some pie and let me chat with her. This is the first time I've ever had
a real celebrity in the house."
"We're real celebrities, too, Mom," Noah says.
Bess pinches his cheek and his face goes dark red. "Oh of course you are,
sweetie," she says.
I stifle a laugh. If anyone else in the world dared to pinch Noah's cheek, they'd
be laid out on the floor faster than you could say the words ass kicking. But he just
stands there like a good son, letting his mom talk to him like a five-year-old.
Grace covers her mouth with her hands and pretends to sneeze, but when she
comes back up, she has tears in her eyes from laughing.
"You boys go outside and find Annie," Bess orders. "Lord knows she'll be back
here in two seconds, accosting Grace before you can stop her."
"You mean, the way you are right now?" Noah asks.
"Oh, hush your mouth," Bess says. "I'm your sweet old mother."
"Don't let her fool you," I warn. "She's younger than she looks."
Bess swats me with a dishtowel. "Get your smart-asses out of here. You too,
Paul. Go see if anyone needs anything outside. Grace here can help me in the
kitchen with the pies."
"If you need help, just yell," Noah says.
"I won't need any help," Bess replies.
"I wasn't talking to you, Mom. I was talking to Grace," Noah says. "Your father's
best CIA interrogators don't have anything on my mother. She wheedles more
gossip out of people than "
"Oh, get going before I pinch your cheeks again."
"I'll try not to reveal any state secrets." Grace turns to give us one more look
over her shoulder as we head out the back door to the yard.
Outside, I pause for a moment. The whole yard is decked out folding tables set
up along the side covered in bowls of barbecue and side dishes and enough of Bess'
home-baked pies to serve a small army. White lights are strung overhead, crisscrossing across the yard from one side of the fence to the other and bathing
everything with a soft glow. Some of Annie's friends play corn hole in the corner of
the yard, and some hang out in Adirondack chairs drinking beer.
Mama Ashby went all out on Annies going-away party, which isn't surprising in
the least. Annie was in junior high when our mother died, and that first year after
she died, Annie was heading in a real bad direction. But Bess just took it in stride,
the way she does with everything in life, and pulled her back from the brink. I adore
Bess, but she and Annie have a special bond that goes deep.
I stand there for a second, soaking it all in. Fourth of July in West Bend is one of
my favorite times of the year. Granted, we've never done it this way before,
hanging out in the backyard. Usually we're downtown for the celebration. Main
Street shuts down and there's a carnival right in the middle of town. That's what all
of my memories of July Fourth involve eating cotton candy and riding carnival
rides until I puke.
"Your mom did a real nice job of this," Paul notes.
"She did," I agree. "I'm sorry that we came in with Grace and she missed out on
going into West Bend for the Fourth, though."
Paul shrugs. "I think she was tired of the pie-baking contest anyway," he says.
"Shit, I was tired of hearing her complain about how it was rigged every year and
how Marla Johnson was going to win the pie-baking contest no matter what
because she sweet-talks the judges."
Noah snorts. "Mom takes the pie-baking contest way too seriously."
Paul chuckles. "So do most of the people in this town."
"A-hole!" Annie runs over and hugs me with all of the force of a freight train
running at full speed.
I let out an umph. "Shit, girl, you really should have been the pro football
player."
"Where is she?"
"Yeah, hello to you too, sis," I say sarcastically. "Its really nice to see you. Im
going to miss you when you go to Europe for two months and Im glad I get a chance
to hang out with you before I leave. I love you, too.
Annie hits me on the arm. "Don't cry, loser," she jokes. "I'm going to go find
her."
"She's inside with Bess," I tell her.
Annie's eyes go big. "Why did you let that happen?"
"You know mom, it's not like telling her no was going to stop her," Noah says.
"Oh my God, you guys, she's probably showing her our baby photos right now."
"She probably is," I groan. Good thing I was a cute-as-hell baby.
"Nope," Paul says. "I already thought of that locked up the baby photos with
the cell phones in the gun safe.
Annie puts her hand up to high-five him. "You're wiser than you look."
Paul shakes his head. "Don't be a shit, girl.
"I'm going to tell Bess you're cussing," Annie say, grinning.
"Tell Bess I'm cussing and see if I let you set off fireworks," Paul says gruffly.
"Do I look okay?" Annie asks, tucking a strand of hot-pink hair behind her ear.
I pretend to evaluate her thoughtfully. "Is your hair supposed to be that shade of
pink?"
"Shut up. I'm going to talk to her."
"Don't freak her out, Annie."
"I'm not going to freak her out! Honestly, you act like I'm crazy or something."
"You're a little intense when it comes to politics, that's all."
"I am not," she protests, taking out a notepad. "But I knew you would take our
cell phones, Paul, so I made notes."
I rip the pad out of her hands. "You're not interviewing her."
"These aren't interview questions. They're questions from a college student
whos concerned about the future of our country."
I shove it in my pocket. "Nice try."
"Noah, tell him to give it back!"
"You're not interrogating the President's daughter, Annie." Noah shakes his
head.
"Fine. I already have my questions memorized anyway." Annie bounces off
toward the house.
"Between Annie and your mother, that girl is going to run out of here
screaming," Paul mutters, shaking his head.
37
NOAH
I love West Bend's Fourth of July celebration, but to be honest, the one in our
backyard puts it to shame. We eat until we're stuffed, shoot the shit with Annie
who finally agrees to leave Grace alone after Noah and I threaten her with a
restraining order (only half-jokingly), and set off fireworks right before the city
ones that are still visible from our house out on the edge of West Bend.
Grace slips right into the family dynamic like a glove. I'm not sure whether it's
because she's been raised in politics and she's used to having to fit in, but she talks
to my parents like she's known them her whole life. She has my mom writing down
her secret cinnamon bun recipe within an hour of being here, and Annie is still
fawning over her even though she vehemently disagrees with her father's social
policies.
"How the hell are you guys friends with her?" Annie sidles up next to me, her
mouth half-full of pie, and elbows me, asking the question softly.
"You act like we don't have friends." I pretend to be offended.
"She's classy," Annie notes, shoveling another forkful of pie into her mouth.
"I'm aware."
"So you and Aiden aren't exactly uh in the same league."
"Says the girl who just shoveled half a piece of pie in her pie-hole?"
Annie makes a face and sticks out her tongue. "I like her. I really don't like her
father at all, and she supports him, so I really shouldn't like her. But she's really
nice."
"Yup." I nod, afraid to say anything else because if I do, I'm going to reveal what
I really think about Grace. If I open my mouth, I'm going to talk about how great
she is. I'm going to gush, and that's not something Noah Ashby does. Noah Ashby
grunts, and maybe acknowledges once in a while that someone might not be an
asshole. But I don't gush about how much I like someone.
So I just nod and say, "Yup."
"Yup," Annie says, her eyebrows raised. "That's all you have to say?"
I look at Grace across the yard talking to my father. My father is smiling and
looks positively taken with her. When they walk past, Grace grins when I ask where
she's going.
"Yes, Annie. You got me. My nefarious plan is to feed you beer until you forget
my evil ways."
One of her friends rushes up and interrupts. "We need a group photo."
Saved by the selfie.
"This isn't over," Annie says, narrowing her eyes at us before she runs off.
"Have fun in Europe," Aiden calls.
She flips us off behind her head as she walks away to join her friends.
Aiden turns on me. "What the hell, dude?"
"Don't look at me. It's your sister who's insisting something's weird with us
and Grace and -"
Suddenly I hear my mother's voice behind me. "Annie is insisting something's
weird with you and Grace?"
"What?!" Now I'm the one whose voice goes up an octave as I feign innocence.
"No idea what you're talking about. Nothing's weird. And you might want to go
grab the camera from Annies friend- someone apparently has a cell phone.
My mother just nods. Ill confiscate it. Your father is out in the garage showing
Grace his fixer-upper. You might want to head out there after a few minutes before
the poor girl is bored to tears."
"She likes old cars," I say quickly, then pause. "I mean, that's what she said. I
wouldn't know what she likes or doesn't like. Cars, hobbies, hell, I don't know
what food she likes."
Shit. Stop talking. I have to actually think it before I can get my mouth to do
what the fuck my brain is ordering. I'm almost afraid I said the words aloud, but my
mom isn't looking at me like I have two heads any more than she was just a minute
ago, so I think I'm safe.
"Oh?" my mom asks. "Because she seemed to know an awful lot about both of
you."
"Huh." Aiden stares at her and I know he's trying to look innocent but he really
looks like the cat that ate the canary.
"I can't imagine how," I say. Lying to my mom feels like shit.
She looks at both of us long and hard. "Grace wouldn't be the girl you were so
pissed off about the last time you were here, would it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I couldn't sound less innocent if I
tried.
Aiden shrugs exaggeratedly. "Me neither. I don't remember being upset."
"Uh-huh," my mom says. "Well, if the two of you are arguing about that girl "
I groan. "Mom, we told you we're not fighting over her."
She doesn't finish her sentence. She just stops and looks at us. "No, you're not
fighting over her at all, are you?"
A look of understanding passes across her face. My mother knows Aiden and I
are both with Grace.
"You need to be careful there," she says softly. "That girl is not just some girl."
"We hardly know her," Aiden protests, still sticking to our story, oblivious to the
fact that my mother has already deduced that it's all lies.
"Don't treat me like some nave old woman," my mom starts, putting her hand
up immediately when Aiden tries to interrupt, "and don't tell me the details,
because I don't want to know. But I know that I've not seen either of you look at a
girl the way you look at that one."
I groan. "It's not "
My mom leans in, her voice low. "You better make damn sure it's not just a
fling, because that girl is the daughter of the President. And the way she talks about
both of you it's just a matter of time before someone notices."
"Bess, there's nothing " Aiden starts.
"I already told you, I don't need the details. But it's rude to just outright lie to
my face." My mom puts her hands on her hips and glares at us. "At least come up
with better stories than the one you have, do you hear me? Because if the three of
you have something going on "
"Oh my God, Bess," Aiden hisses.
She narrows her eyes. "The two of you need to be careful. You're men. If
something like that were to come out, you look like the big men on campus. She
gets ruined. That's not right, mind you, but that's how the world works."
"We're being careful, Mom."
"Noah," Aiden whispers.
"Oh please, you heard her, she knows anyway. Nothing is going to come out.
We'll make sure of it."
"You brought her to West Bend," my mother whispers. "With the three of you
making eyes at each other the whole night, it's a wonder everyone here hasn't
already figured it out."
"We're more subtle than that," I say. At least, I thought we were. I didn't think
it was written all over us, the way my mom seems to think it is.
"Just don't be idiots. And don't break her heart, either."
"Nobody's heart is getting broken, Mom," I say brusquely.
"Yeah, you know Noah doesn't even have a heart," Aiden points out.
"That's hilarious, coming from the guy who " I start, but my mother
interrupts.
"I mean it, boys," she says firmly. "Love is complicated enough when two
people are involved. I don't want to see any of you with your hearts broken."
"Who said anything about love?" I ask.
"None of you did," she says. "But call it mother's intuition."
As I watch Grace walk back into the yard with my father, wearing a white
sundress, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders, I have the fleeting
thought that my mother might not be so crazy with her talk about love.
38
GRACE
It's a large open room set up as a guest bedroom with two beds on opposite ends, a
throw rug in the middle, and paintings of Colorado scenery on the walls.
"Well, it was both of ours once Aiden moved in," Noah says. "I haven't been up
here in years. I figured Mom would have converted it into an office or something."
"At least she took down the posters and shit from the wall," Aiden says. "There
was football crap everywhere. Do you remember?"
"It was like football exploded in this room," Noah says. "Are you sure you don't
want to stay here tonight? Or get a place in town? There's a bed and breakfast. The
owner, June, is nice. She'd be discreet."
I shake my head. "My cover story was that I came here for an interview. When
my mother finds out the interview was 'cancelled', she's going to wonder what the
hell I was still doing in West Bend. Or at this house, if my security blabs."
"You're a kind person who decided to visit the sister of one of your big donors as
a favor because the sister has a slight obsession with you."
I laugh. "Annie was really sweet."
"Did my mother interrogate you?" Noah asks. "She can be a little intense."
"She was wonderful. Both of your parents were," I tell them, and I mean it.
They're the kind of parents I wish I had loving and kind and genuinely concerned
about their kids. Paul and Bess have the kind of relationship that I'd hope to have
in twenty years; the way they still looked at each other, even in the middle of a
party, made it clear they are still head-over-heels in love.
"She was on her best behavior with you, then," Noah says.
"Maybe." I can see how Bess could wheedle gossip out of anyone. She was casual
about it, prodding gently while making dessert, but she was definitely probing. I
wonder how much about me and Noah and Aiden she's put together.
"Did she ask you about us?" Aiden asks.
"No. Why? Did she ask about me?"
Noah and Aiden look at each other. "She knows there's something going on
between the three of us, but she also knows not to say anything. In fact, she was
"Well?" Aiden looks at me expectantly. "Are you going to model it for us?"
Yep, these are the guys I just might be falling for the ones who buy patriotic
butt plugs to celebrate Independence Day.
I just might be this crazy.
My eyes on Aiden, I strut over to the bed, my hips swaying exaggeratedly. Then I
get on all fours, right there on the bed in their high school bedroom, and I arch my
back and put my ass in the air.
I'm definitely losing my mind.
Noah growls as he joins me, standing on the side of the bed near my head and
guiding his cock to my mouth. The familiar taste of him sends heat rushing to my
core, and when I hear the sound of a condom wrapper tearing and feel Aiden on the
bed behind me, I think I might just come from the anticipation of him.
But Aiden doesn't slide his cock inside me not yet. He teases me, his fingers
sliding over my wet pussy as he reaches between my legs to rub my clit. The gesture
sends arousal rushing through my entire body. A shock of cold, the wetness from
the lubricant on the plug, makes me shiver and the initial pang of pain as he works
it into my asshole is quickly eclipsed by pleasure as he pushes it inside.
Noah grins, pulling out of my mouth. "That is fucking ridiculous."
I turn my head over my shoulder to see glittery star-spangled streamers behind
me, like a sparkly, red white and blue tail. When Aiden lightly smacks them, they
catch the light, sending red, white, and blue shimmers through the room. "I can't
believe I'm wearing this."
"It's festive," Aiden says, but I quickly forget about any festivity as he pushes
his cock against my wet entrance. I forget all about the star-spangled butt plug as
Aiden's cock slides inside my pussy and I wrap my lips around Noah's dick.
Then there's nothing else in the world except the nearly-overwhelming
sensation of being filled by these two men.
I push my hips back, meeting Aiden stroke for stroke as he fucks me, pushing
the butt plug into my ass harder and harder as his movements become more
forceful. Noah grips my hair on both sides, thrusting his cock into my mouth in
rhythm with Aiden's strokes.
The only thing I can focus on is wave after wave of intensifying pleasure as they
bring me higher and higher. All I can feel is them taking me, claiming every part of
me as theirs. I'm lost in them, absolutely lost as Noah murmurs to me how much
he loves my sweet little mouth and Aiden tells me how warm and tight I am and
how he can't wait to be inside my ass.
It's the thought of him coming inside my ass that nearly pushes me over the
edge. Soon I'm moaning, the sound muted by Noah's cock. Noah gives me a quick
warning before his cock spasms and he floods my mouth with his cum. I swallow
every last drop as Aiden groans, thrusting into me over and over as he comes. His
grip on my ass cheeks is tight as he pumps harder, pushing the butt plug inside me
all the way to the hilt and triggering my orgasm.
I come hard, the intensity so completely overwhelming that I don't even realize
the butt plug is playing music until I begin to come down, my chest heaving as I try
to catch my breath.
I don't even realize what music it is for another second. That's how far gone I
am.
When I realize what it is, my eyes go wide.
It's Hail to the Chief.
I turn to look over my shoulder at Aiden, who gives me a sheepish grin as he
feverishly tries to push a button on the plug to turn it off. "I just came while Hail to
the Chief played?! I don't want to be reminded of my father when you're fucking
me!"
Oh my God. I'm horrified.
"Ohhhhhh. Gross. I totally didn't mean to do that," Aiden says. He's examining
my ass now with an intensity usually reserved for surgeons. "I don't this button
isn't working."
The butt plug continues to blare out the synthesized version of the song.
Noah is laughing, the sound erupting from deep in his chest, and if I weren't so
incredibly humiliated by the fact that it's that song, I'd love the warm sound of his
laughter. "Hail to the Chief," he roars, his hand going his mouth. "How the hell did
you find that?"
Aiden finally finds the off button. "At a sex shop."
"I'm sorry I'm laughing," he says, doubled over. "I just can't stop. That is just
holy shit, why are you even with us?"
"I'm starting to wonder that myself," I joke as Aiden slaps me lightly on the ass.
"It's probably because you have big dicks."
"Mine's bigger," Aiden says.
39
GRACE
I refused to attend the Fourth of July celebration at the White House and didn't go
on the blind date set up by my mother. It's the first time I've dared to defy them
even a little bit. I know that's pathetic, at twenty-six years old, but I've always
been the conscientious and dutiful daughter, doing my part to support my father's
illustrious career.
My father called to give me a lecture about loyalty to the family and to my
country. "Not coming to the July Fourth celebration was a slap in the face to us to
me, personally. How can the country be united, if we're not united? You know that I
still have great things left to do, things that will help people. That's why I need you
to be onboard a hundred percent."
"A hundred percent," I echoed. I wondered if my father had always sounded so
self-righteous and if his desire for power had always been so transparent. Did I just
miss it, all of these years?
But I didn't defy him. I didn't tell him what I wanted to say, that I couldn't
always put his campaign his presidency first. That I wanted my own life.
Instead, I played the dutiful daughter.
The daughter who's too afraid to rock the boat and stand up to her parents.
My mother called to tell me that she needed me to be committed to the
campaign. Instead of trying to guilt me into compliance, though, she went straight
for the jugular: "We'll make sure the board of directors votes to remove you from
your position with our foundation."
Their foundation. That's what she called it, and for the first time, I realized that
she's right. It's my family's foundation, not mine. I might have put in blood, sweat,
and tears, but it's theirs. How sad is that? I've convinced myself that I'm a
grownup, doing something important, but I'm still just a kid, blindly obeying
orders.
Yet I didn't tell her to go fuck herself the way I should have. I chickened out.
Instead, I simply told her that I wasn't going out with the suitor she had selected
and she could find a different way of publicly redeeming me.
That's as much rebellion as I had in me.
Then I went to Noah and Aiden. I put all of the outside bullshit out of my head
and went to the only people I feel like I can be myself with.
When I'm not working, I've been spending virtually every waking minute with
Noah and Aiden. We don't go anywhere because we can't. Instead, we hole up in
one of our houses hanging out, reading the newspaper (I discovered that Noah loves
newspapers as much as I do, but on his tablet), or watching movies (Aiden secretly
loves romantic comedies).
And we talk. We talk about inconsequential things and our favorite things and I
slowly divulge more about my parents and how hard it was to grow up in the public
eye. We talk about music and our favorite TV shows and movies and books, and I
learn that Noah does the crossword in the newspaper every Sunday morning and
that Aiden geeks out on model planes and cars.
We talk about all of the little things, but the little things are important. It's the
sum of those little things that fill in the blanks about someone, that help you know
who they are and where they come from and where they're going.
And I find myself wanting to know all of those things about Noah and Aiden.
When I knock on their door tonight, Aiden gives me a look like he's hiding
something and he's more than pleased with himself.
What are you up to? You look very smug.
God, you cant keep a secret, Noah calls as he walks into the living room.
I didnt spoil it."
If youre about to gift me another sex toy, Im going to slap you.
Ooh, that would be kinky. I might like it. Aiden grins.
Noah glares at Aiden. We figured youve been here a lot and weve been at
your place and we wanted to take you out
Like on a date, Aiden interrupts.
I cant," I say softly. Panic rises in my throat. "You know I cant go anywhere or
be seen-
We know that, Noah says. But we still wanted to, I dont know, do something
special.
We wanted to take you on a date, Aiden says. But here.
Since our romantic gestures thus far have involved sex toys." Noah gives Aiden
a dirty look.
Sex toys and blow-up dolls, I add.
What I don't add is that I like the fact that they havent tried to win me over
with dinner and flowers and a chauffeur and all of the things that guys who want to
date someone like me do a night at the symphony, tickets to the opera, private
helicopter rides.
What I dont add is that I like that since we can't go out in public, we've been
forced to spend time doing normal things, that I've gotten to know them outside of
the media and public perception and all of that crap.
Its not like super romantic or anything, though. I mean, it's me and Noah, so
don't expect much.
I laugh. You're really selling this date business."
Just come with us, Noah says, sighing in exasperation. We obviously suck at
this.
You really do. It makes me wonder how either of you have ever dated
someone."
I haven't," Aiden says automatically.
Is that what were doing? Noah asks.
I stop dead in my tracks. I dont know. Are we "
Dating. Up until now, nothing has been defined, not outside of bed anyway.
I want to be dating, Aiden says quickly.
We told you that you were ours." Noah scowls.
You said that when we were in bed, I start, my face flushing warm.
"And in the shower," Aiden points out.
We want to be dating you, Noah says, his brow furrowed. When I said you
were ours, thats what I meant. Youre ours.
So, then youre my boyfriends, I say hesitatingly. I listen to the word roll off
my tongue. Boyfriends. Plural.
"Say it again," Aiden orders.
Boyfriends.
Aiden pulls me against him and kisses me hard, my lips throbbing when he pulls
away.
"Say it again," Noah commands.
Boyfriends, I whisper.
Noah brings his lips to mine, his tongue finding mine immediately. Then he
stops and looks at me. Damn straight, he says. Before I can protest, he bends
down and picks me up, slinging me over his shoulder and gripping my ass cheek as
he walks toward the back patio.
When we're outside, he sets me down facing him. My hands go to his chest,
sliding down his abdomen and my breath quickens. Close your eyes and turn
around.
I do what he says, my heart beating faster. His hands are on my shoulders, his
palms warm on my skin, and the heat of his breath wafts over my neck. But he
doesn't put his lips to me the way I ache for him to do. Open your eyes now.
My hand goes to my mouth when I see what they've done in the yard. "It's I
don't know what to say. What is all of this?"
Theres a tent in the middle of the yard, but not just any tent. This looks like its
been lifted from a hotel in Morocco, all billowing rich-colored fabrics and warmly
lit lanterns. The tent is open in the front, and its filled with large patterned
cushions and draped fabrics, and even more lanterns. Its the prettiest thing Ive
ever seen.
We just wanted to take you camping, Noah says.
This is definitely not roughing it, I say softly. No ones ever done anything like
this for me before.
Well, we know youre a princess and you cant sleep on the hard ground,
Aiden jokes.
This is really nice. I dont have any other words for it. Nothing I can
articulate right now anyway because my heart is too full.
Noah stands in front of me, taking my hands in his. This isnt just we didnt
want you to think were just
We didnt want you to think youre just any girl, Aiden says, coming up
behind me. His hands trail down to my waist, and his breath wafts across my neck,
making all of the hairs on my neck stand up.
I dont know what to say, I whisper. But I dont have to say anything because
Noahs lips cover mine, making words pointless now. Aidens lips are on my neck
and he kisses his way down my shoulder, his hand sliding around my waist to the
front and pulling me close against him. When I feel his hardness against my ass
cheek, arousal rushes through me.
They undress me, working in unison with whats becoming practiced skill, a
rhythm that were all developing together. Noah slides his hand under my legs and
carries me to the tent, laying me down in a pile of pillows and kneeling beside me to
survey me. You are just so fucking beautiful."
Noah and Aiden are fucking beautiful. Theyre like chiseled Greek statues,
perfect and hard and theyre both mine.
My boyfriends.
My boyfriends who kiss every inch of my body. My boyfriends who move slowly,
on either side of me, teasing me until Im writhing underneath them. It seems like
forever until they reach the lower half of my body, each putting a hand on my
thighs to spread them.
Look at this pussy, Noah growls. Have you ever seen anything so damn
gorgeous?
And so fucking wet. Aiden touches his fingertip gingerly between my legs, and
I fight every impulse to arch my hips up and force him to slide his fingers inside
me. I'm so empty, so needy, so wanting. Youre so wet for us, arent you, sugar?
Yes. I whisper the word, but Im really begging. I need them inside me. I need
both of them inside me.
Put your fingers in her, Noah says, his voice low. Aiden immediately complies,
filling me with his thick fingers, but it's not enough. It's not what I really want. But
he finger-fucks me slowly as Noah puts his mouth to my clit. The two men take
their time, bringing me close and teasing me, but keeping me from passing over
the edge.
The tent is filled with the sound of Aiden's fingers slipping in and out of my
wetness, and Noah's groans as he tongues my clit.
Then it fills with my whimpers.
When I start to lose control, bucking against Noah's face and trying to get
Aiden's fingers deeper inside me, I start to beg. "Harder. Oh, God, just like that."
But Noah pulls away. You want to come, sweetheart?
Yes. Oh God, please. My pussy throbs around Aidens fingers, but then he
Yes.
Aiden begins to work his way inside me slowly, carefully, tenderly, and when I
flinch at the initial shock of pain and then the burn as he settles inside me, Noah
whispers, "Look at me, sweetheart." My eyes stay on his as Aiden enters me
entirely.
Are you all right, sugar? Aiden asks softly, his hands running down my arms.
His voice is thick and gravely, tight with arousal.
Am I all right?
We're all just paused here, unmoving, as my body adjusts to both of them. They
feel too big and just right, like my body is in shock but they're also the perfect fit.
It's the most intimate thing I've ever felt, being with them like this, totally bare
and exposed.
Yes, I groan. Its It feels amazing. My hands on Noahs chest, I start to
rock against him, moving on his cock so that the tip presses against the really
sensitive part inside me as Aiden gently begins to thrust his cock inside my ass.
Does it feel good to have both of us inside you, filling you up? Aiden wants to
know.
Mmm-hmm. Its all I can say because it's overwhelming to have them both
inside me. Soon all of the pain starts to fade away, eclipsed by pleasure thats more
intense than anything Ive ever felt before.
Your pussy is so damn hot and wet and tight, Noah growls. Tell me how it
feels to be fucking her tight little virgin asshole.
The words make me moan.
Shes so damn warm and tight, Aiden groans. He wraps his hand around my
hair, pulling it as he thrusts.
Yes, I whisper. It's all I can say.
They're inside me forever. At least that's how it feels. I want to stay like this
forever with them.
Their talk is dirtier the closer they get to climax, and I only encourage them with
my moans as I start to lose control.
Tell me how much you want us to come inside you, sugar. Tell me how much
you want to feel Noahs cum in that sweet little pussy. Tell me how much you want
me to come in your ass as he fills you.
Aiden's balls slap against my ass as he fucks me harder now.
Oh my God, I breathe. Im losing control, riding Noah harder and harder as I
get closer. I cant think of anything else except them coming inside me. I oh,
God I want to feel you come.
He does. They both do. Aiden thrusts inside me, once, twice maybe but I'm so
carried away by my own pleasure that I can't tell. Noah comes with a vengeance,
gripping my hips tightly to push me all the way down on his cock. Warmth spreads
through me and their orgasm triggers mine. It's white-hot, blinding, and I call out
their names. Or at least I think I do.
It feels like forever before I come down, gasping for breath as my hair falls down
around my face. I've never felt so undone, so reckless, so completely and utterly
free as I do right now.
Then they wrap me in their arms, and I feel warm. Safe. Sheltered.
That was Noah starts, but his voice drifts off.
Fuck, Aiden chimes in.
"Yeah," I breathe, because that's all there is to say.
Later, I lie on my back in the tent between them, my head in the crook of
Aiden's arm and my leg crossed over Noah's. Aiden plays with my hair and I listen
to the sound of his heartbeat in the quiet of the tent. I pull a blanket up further to
my chin, chilly even though warmth radiates from Noah and Aiden's bodies.
We lie in the tent talking all night.
We talk about what we'd do if we weren't the people we are now, if we were
"normal people", like that even exists. I learn that Noah would work the ranch, like
any of the other people out in West Bend. Aiden would be a racecar driver, even
though Noah and I tell him that with his sex toy obsession, he should be running
his own shop. I'd do my own foundation work, totally disconnected from my
parents and all the favors they call in.
Right before I fall asleep sometime in the early morning, I realize that this is
what it must be like to really, genuinely be happy.
40
AIDEN
Colorado.
Theres a bidding war, he says.
Grace nods, swallowing hard. Congratulations, she says, her voice tight.
Thats good news.
Miami and Dallas, he says. And Colorado.
Those would be good career moves, then?
Noah nods. More money.
Because that's what's fucking important in life.
Grace nods, taking a deep breath before speaking. More money is good.
Shes so calm on the surface, like she's answering questions in an interview. I
recognize that kind of nonchalance because it's the shit I do for the press. I grin
and make jokes and play the clown and Grace is doing the same damn thing right
now not the clown bit, but playing a role. And Noah, fucking brilliant as he is,
doesnt see it. He looks like he's relieved, calmer. I know when she leaves, he's
going to tell me she wasn't upset at all.
He's so fucking book smart, but hes a damn idiot.
Graces brow furrows. You didnt tell me you were taking offers outside of
Colorado, she says.
There it is.
I can feel the air disappear from the room.
Then she turns to look at me. You knew he was negotiating outside of Colorado
and you didnt say anything either?
Grace, I I start. Fuck. It wasnt my news to tell her. I could kill Noah right
now.
Its not really a big deal, Noah says. Miami isnt a long flight and Dallas is
even closer, so
But Grace puts her hand to her mouth, shaking her head. This is all public
knowledge anyway, isnt it? she asks. Its the kind of thing that Id know if I paid
attention to football or followed sports.
Exactly, Noah starts.
Noah should have fucking told you, I point out. Hell, I should have made him
tell you. Or told you myself.
What the hell are you talking about? Noah asks. Its not like Id be moving to
the other side of the world. Its hours away.
Thats not the fucking point! I burst out, angry at him for fucking this up.
Angry at him for not realizing right now that hes fucking it up. This relationship
was already complicated enough before we decided to hide information from her.
I feel like an idiot, Grace says softly, shaking her head. Everyone else in the
world knew about this but me. Its you lied. Both of you.
Noah looks suddenly sheepish. We didnt lie. I just didnt want to tell you
before I knew for certain that I
"I don't get it," she says, stopping him. "If you knew you were leaving, why
even get involved with me? Both of you knew. Why even take the risk?" She takes
another deep breath, her voice quiet when she speaks again. "You knew what I was
risking by even being with you, the stupid excuses I've been giving to my security
detail to my parents - to spend time with you. You knew what I could lose by
getting involved with you what my father could lose. And Ive become someone
who's reckless and doesn't care about consequences. You make me fall for you for
both of you but you didn't tell me this one thing. You hid it. I don't care about
how short a flight it is to Miami or Dallas or Colorado. I should have known. I
should have gone into things with my eyes open." The words come out in a flurry,
and when she stops, she looks at us and just shakes her head. "I need to go."
"Grace, I " I start, and Noah tells her not to leave. But she turns around and
walks away.
You made me fall for you - for both of you.
I want to tell her that she's not the only one who fell.
41
GRACE
"A re you sure you're okay with party-crashing?" I ask Vi as she slides behind the
driver's seat. She's wearing a topaz-colored gown, one of her own creations
that falls somewhere between black tie and cocktail attire, but definitely not
conservative like my very appropriate floor-length black dress. My parents will be
less than thrilled that Vi is coming to my father's fundraising event, and doubly
less than thrilled about us pulling up in Vi's brand new splashy sports car instead of
the very suitable SUV with black tinted windows driven by my security detail.
"I take offense to the term party-crashing when I'm practically a member of the
First Family," Vi jokes, checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror before she pulls
out of my driveway, her tires squealing on the pavement.
"You mean, like a crazy drunk uncle who shows up for family reunions?" I ask.
"My neighbors are going to appreciate your driving, thanks."
"Crazy drunk aunt, thank you very much," Vi corrects me. "And I can't believe
you still agreed to do this event even after your parents insisted on trying to set you
up with that trust fund baby."
I sigh. "I know. Tell me why I'm doing this again."
"Because you're a dutiful, obedient daughter."
I laugh. "I'm a sucker."
"You are a sucker," Vi agrees. "Let me guess how it went down. Your father laid
a guilt trip on you the way he always does. He said something about your duty to
your country and to your family and mentioned the words freedom and
democracy."
"So you were listening to our conversation?"
Vi sighs. "This isn't my first rodeo. We've been down this road before, darling. I
love you, but someday, you're going to have to tell them they can stick duty to the
family and country right up their ass-"
"I do have a backbone," I insist. "I told them I wouldn't go out with the guy."
Vi's voice softens. "Of course you do. It's not exactly easy to flip the President
and the First Lady the bird, Grace."
"Thanks for coming tonight."
"Well, how could I resist showing up as your plus-one, just to keep the rumors
of our affair going?" Vi grins. "Just don't be surprised when I kiss you on the mouth
this time. I'll throw you a little tongue, too for realism."
"That's kind of you," I deadpan.
Vi shifts gears and pushes on the gas, and the engine roars as we pull onto a
deserted street. She glances over at me. "What?" she asks innocently. "Let's keep
Brooks and Davis on their toes, shall we?"
"I'm pretty sure I've been doing that enough lately."
"You sounded off when we talked on the phone," Vi notes. "That's the real
reason I showed up. So, spill it. What's wrong?"
Where do I begin?
"This doesn't have anything to do with the bidding war over Noah, does it?" Vi
asks.
"You know about that?" I ask. "Did everyone know about that but me?"
"So you are upset about it."
"I'm not upset." I shrug, brushing off the lie. "Okay, I'm a little miffed."
"You sound more than a little miffed. Go on."
"I'm slightly miffed." I watch the buildings zip past as we drive. "I don't know
it's not the fact that he's been pursuing contracts outside of Colorado. It's that
neither of them told me about it."
"So this is more than just a fling with them," Vi says.
"Yes. No. I don't know. I thought it was. I mean, it wasn't at first. I don't really
know how it even happened. I was so irritated with them at the camp for behaving
like frat boys or something, and then"
"Before you knew it, you were getting spit-roasted by the hot guys who irritated
you," Vi finishes.
"That's a very classy way of putting it, yes," I joke. "But then I started spending
more time with them, and"
"And then you fell in love," Vi says wistfully.
"Love? Are you insane?" I ask. "I just got used to them insisting they were my
boyfriends."
"Noah Ashby and Aiden Jackson said they were your boyfriends?"
"Yes. I mean, we agreed they were, I guess. They decided they were and I
agreed." I pause. "God, it really does sound like I have no backbone, doesn't it?
They wanted to be my boyfriends and I wanted them to be my boyfriends." I pause
again. "That just makes us sound like we're all in junior high."
Vi laughs. "Love always makes us sound like we're teenagers."
"Stop using that word."
"What would you like me to use instead?"
"I don't know, all right? Not that word. That's a big fucking word, Vi."
"We'll come back to it. Noah is pursuing contracts outside of Colorado"
"Right. Noah drops his bidding war news on me, like it's good news. And it is.
It's great news for him. I'm happy there's a bidding war over him. I'm thrilled. He
loves football and he should get paid well for it and it's wonderful."
"You don't know that I meant love. I might have meant that you like them. Or
that you want to lick them. Or that you lust after them."
"Like. Like is fine."
Vi is silent for a moment as we near the building. "Do you think maybe it's not
just about the fact that they didn't tell you?"
"Like what? It's not enough that they omitted pertinent information that
everyone else in the world knew about?"
"Maybe," Vi says, downshifting and coming to an abrupt stop in front of the
building. "But maybe there's a part of you that's a little afraid of where things
might be going?"
"They're going nowhere, obviously," I say, suddenly annoyed. "If they didn't
think it was important to tell me about that, what the hell else are they going to
hide?"
But Vi doesn't stop. She keeps talking, even as a valet nears the car. "Or maybe
you expected this to be nothing more than a crazy, wild fling, the kind of thing
you've never done before and that's it. And now it's not. It's more than that and
now the consequences are starting to be real. Your feelings are starting to be real
and now you're afraid of where it's all going."
I'm silent for a minute as the valet stands outside Vi's door. I watch couples
walk up the stairs to the building entrance dressed in tuxedos and gowns. "When
the hell did you become so insightful about relationships, Oprah?"
Vi grins. "Just because I don't enjoy serious relationships myself doesn't mean I
don't see what it takes to have one."
"Maybe you just need more than one guy," I tell her.
She pauses with her hand on the door handle. "Honey, if you find me three hot
football players, I'll give a relationship a whirl. Triplets would be preferable."
I grimace. "Vi, that is how would you even manage" I hold my hand up.
"Nope, I don't want to know."
She grins as we get out of the car. "I can see you just figured out how I would
manage."
"I need to rinse my brain thanks to that image."
Vi waits until she's beside me with her arm linked in mine to whisper. "I have a
feeling there are far dirtier images in that brain of yours now, thanks to certain
men who shall remain nameless."
"Shhh." I slap her lightly on the arm as we walk inside the building and straight
into the crowd. We're immediately spotted by a couple who head straight for us.
"Oh God, it's that lobbyist and his wife you know, the guy who smells like
cheese," Vi whispers. "Quick, run. It's every man for himself."
"Thanks a lot, Vi," I whisper, but I dodge them by walking around another
couple, turning toward a canap tray and pretending to be mesmerized by the
selection, and winding up out of the line of fire. But when I look back for Vi, I see
she's been sidelined by the cheese-smelling-lobbyist.
Vi peers around him, mouthing, "Save yourself."
I'm about to go rescue her when I run directly into the chest of a tall man in a
tuxedo.
"Grace," he says, looking down at me as his hands grip my forearms. I look up
into the eyes of a classically handsome man well-bred, white-collar, obviously
wealthy and I feel nothing. Nada. No spark, nothing like when I ran into Noah
that night, when he stepped on my dress and cupped my breasts in his hands.
Heat rushes through me at the recollection, followed immediately by a pang of
regret. I should talk to them. I shouldn't have just run out of there the other day. I
should tell them it was more about being afraid to trust them than it was about
their lie.
"Yes," I say, giving the man my best press smile. There's something familiar
about him, but I can't quite place how I know him.
"Brandon," he says, as if he can read my mind. "Redding. Our mothers know
each other, I believe."
"Oh. Right." Oh, God. It's my would-be suitor. "Brandon. It's lovely to meet
you."
He smiles warmly. "You know, it's not often that I get stood up."
Stood up? "Oh. I didn't think my mother actually arranged a date between us. I
mean, you called and I was just so busy that I didn't have time to respond and"
He laughs, turning to grab two glasses of champagne from one of the catering
staff that passes by and hands one to me. "It's okay. I know when I'm being blown
off. My ego can take it I don't need to be let down gently."
"I wasn't exactly blowing you off," I explain lamely. "It's just that I was"
"Busy," he finishes for me, sipping his champagne. "As you say."
"Yes." I swallow half my glass in one gulp. "And I wasn't especially thrilled
about being set up."
"Ah, there we are," he says, the edges of his lips turning up. "Admittedly, I'm
intrigued by the fact that you didn't want to be set up with me."
I raise my eyebrows. "Narcissistic, much?"
"Just confident. And not used to being turned down."
"What if I said, 'it's not you, it's me'?"
"Well, Grace." He leans in close to me, and I'm suddenly uncomfortable, but
when I step back, I bump into a woman behind me. He whispers in a conspiratorial
tone. "I'd say that you were being disingenuous."
"Excuse me?"
"I'd say you were lying."
"I know what disingenuous means." I don't know this guy, but his
condescending attitude certainly isn't endearing him to me. "I'm asking what
makes you an expert on my truth-telling ability?"
"Because there's a man over there who's looking at me like he'd like to kill me
right now, and I assume it's because I'm standing where I'm standing."
I spin around far too quickly to appear nonchalant. "What?"
But he's wrong. It's not one man standing there. It's two.
42
NOAH
"I 'm going on record saying this is not a good idea," I grumble under my breath as
we stand on the outside of the crowd at the event hall.
Yesterday afternoon, Aiden called Grace's assistant Janice and sweet-talked her
into telling him where Grace would be tonight. As it turns out, Janice is more skilled
in negotiation tactics than my cutthroat agent, so the price of that knowledge was
donating to tonight's auction to support Grace's father's re-election campaign:
dinner with two of Colorado's "golden boys."
"Yeah, well she left because of your bright idea not to tell her anything about
your negotiations. Let's go apologize. We were idiots and we screwed up. Grace is
reasonable. She'll understand."
You made me fall for you - for both of you.
Her words have run through my head all night.
I'm on edge. I've been on edge since Grace walked out the door after I told her
about the bidding war. To be honest, I was on edge the second my agent called with
the news about Dallas and Miami in the first place. Before Grace, the only thing
tying me to Colorado was my family. I love them, but they understand that my plan
has always been to go where the best team is. Playing for the best team has never
been about the money, though; it's always been about my desire to play the best
football I can, to be part of the best team I can.
I've never had any loyalty to a place. Hell, I never had any reason to before
Grace, before whatever the hell is happening between the three of us, before she
somehow became our girlfriend and I somehow became unable to picture a future
that didn't involve sharing her with Aiden.
"This is anything but discreet," I hiss. "You think no one is going to notice us
talking to her?"
Aiden shrugs. "So? We'll wait until she's alone."
"She's the president's daughter. She's never alone."
Aiden gives me a look. "She's been alone with us plenty of times."
Suddenly, there's movement in the crowd, and I catch a glimpse of Grace
looking breathtakingly beautiful in a long black gown, her hair pulled up on top of
her head.
Talking to a man.
A man who's leaning in close to her, his hand on her arm, looking like far more
than just an acquaintance.
Aiden sees them at the same time I do. "Should we kill him?" he growls.
"She's not with that guy," I tell him, sounding far more casual than I feel right
now. Right now, I feel like walking up to them, punching him in the mouth for
talking to her, and throwing her over my shoulder like a caveman so Aiden and I
can show her exactly who she belongs to. That makes me a pig. I know it does. The
rational part of me knows it does. Which is why I stand there, not throwing anyone
over my shoulder or punching anyone.
"Look at him. He's a suit."
"We're wearing suits, in case you haven't noticed."
"We're wearing tuxedos because this is a black tie event," I say. "We're not
suits."
The guy leans in close again, and adrenaline and anger course through me at the
sight of her and another man. I clench my hands into fists at my side. He's
standing there, with his mouth near her ear and it's all I can do to not walk over
there and stake my claim on her our claim on her right in the middle of
everyone. "Yeah, killing him sounds good," I admit.
But we don't get to kill or even tackle anyone because right then, Grace's
gaze meets ours, and her eyes go wide.
Then she turns and disappears into the crowd.
I'm about to follow her, but Aiden stops me. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"You were about to go after her," he says. "Don't be obvious about it. You know
her parents are supposed to be here tonight, and her security, and a million people
with cell phones and cameras. Don't be stupid."
I shake off his hand on my arm. The irritation with the man standing near her is
making me jumpy. "Fine. Then I'm going outside for air."
I edge through a couple of people and pretend not to hear Aidens or my names
being spoken.
Then I feel a hand on my arm.
"Noah Ashby!" a voice says brightly. I look down to see Grace's friend, the one I
met at the charity event before - the one who saw me and my boner in the back
room with Grace. What was her name? Something to do with flowers. Daisy?
"Hi -" I start.
She turns to a couple she's talking with, her hand still on my arm. "I'm so sorry,
I'd love to chat more, but I've been looking all over for my dear friend Noah!"
Dear friend? I give her a puzzled look as she steers me away using my arm. She
smiles broadly, looking ahead.
"Just keep walking, doll," she says. Doll? "Thanks for getting me out of that
conversation. Can't stand that guy."
"Okay."
43
GRACE
Are you stuck with the lobbyist? My dad is late. Now I'm going onstage a little
earlier.
"We'll just have you kick off the first speaker introduction instead of your
father's. Notes are on this card." The campaign manager I can't remember her
name, my father just fired his old one for some hot-shot new one - stands in front
of me wearing a no-nonsense silk suit and directing one of her assistants. "Get her
a mic. No, not that one. Why would you bring her one we were having problems
with earlier tonight? Get one that works, for Christ's sake." She turns toward me,
her voice low. "I swear, these college interns don't know their heads from their
asses."
"I'm sure my parents will be here in a few "
The door opens and Vi stands there. Thank God.
"Could I just steal her for a tiny second? I'm her designer and I need to adjust
her dress." Vi asks the question in a way that's not really asking.
"Perfect," the coordinator says as a young girl in a black cocktail dress breezes
past Vi with a battery pack and a mic. "We'll just need to get you hooked up and "
"I can take care of the mic," Vi says, smiling sweetly. "We'll just be five
minutes. That's all I need. It's really a delicate fashion issue, and I'm sure the First
Daughter would prefer a bit of privacy."
"Okay." The woman holds up the pack. "The switch is on the back. You've used
a million of these, I'm sure. You'll exit there and walk out down the hallway, where
we'll be waiting to escort you on stage. Don't turn the mic on we'll do it when we
get out there. It won't be a live feed until we introduce you anyway. I'll have
another mic for you in case this one's a dud. I swear we've had nothing but
technical problems tonight already." She whirls around, whisking the frightenedlooking intern away with her and out the door.
As soon as she leaves, Vi takes the mic pack from my hands. "I'll help you get
this on, but there's someone someones here to see you."
My heart races. "They cannot be back here, Vi. You need to tell them to leave."
"Two seconds," she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Brooks and
Davis will get them out of here before your parents even get near the building."
"I don't want to do this here "
"Just hear them out, that's all." She gives me a long look. "You admitted
yourself that walking out was a mistake. You were afraid. And they make you
happy. Make up with them and go home and screw their brains out and be happy."
She goes to the door, pulling it open to let Noah and Aiden step inside.
My heart skips a few beats at the sight of both of them in tuxedos, arousal
immediately flooding my body.
"Give me one second to get this mic on her and then I'll give you some privacy,"
Vi says, walking over to adjust my dress.
"You're sure that's turned off, right?" I whisper as Vi situates the pack under
the back of my dress.
"It's definitely off. I'm not even sure it's working at all, actually. The light isn't
coming on. I'll grab a new one for you." Vi dashes out of the room before even
waiting for me to respond.
"I have to go out in ten minutes," I warn them. "My parents are late. I have to
introduce someone and "
"We'll be here and gone," Noah says. "We just have something to say, all
right?"
"I " I start. I have something to say too. I want to tell them I shouldn't have
run out like that.
"Me first," he says. "I should have told you about the fact that I was looking at
offers all over the place. The truth is, I was going to, but then things kept
happening with you with the three of us and I didn't know what the hell was
going on. First I thought it was just fun, what was happening and by the time I
realized it might be something more than that, it was too late to just tell you. I'd
already kept it a secret, and I thought if I told you, it would screw things up for sure.
And Dallas and Miami aren't far, and I didn't think it was lying exactly."
He runs his hand through his hair, a pained look on his face.
"I shouldn't have just run out of there. I just it felt like you were deliberately
trying to hide it, but everyone else in the world knew about it. So I was just the idiot
girl you were screwing who wasn't in on the joke."
They walk up close to me, and I inhale sharply at their proximity, breathing
them in. I'm heady just at their scent, reminded that it's been two days since I've
been in their bed. Every part of my body is turned on at the thought of being
between them.
Noah slides his fingers under my jaw, turning my face up to him. "You're not the
idiot girl we're fucking."
"We royally screwed up by not telling you," Aiden says, his hand going up to my
hair, tucking an errant strand behind my ear before grazing my neck with his palm,
sending goose bumps over my skin. "I screwed up as much as he did. You should
have known from the beginning, gone in with eyes open."
"It's just this whole thing has been insane," I say, my words already breathy. I
close my eyes as Aiden's hand moves down my arm, as my body responds
immediately to their touch. "You're backstage here at a charity event where my
parents are going to show up any second. You can't be here. And I don't think I
would have even risked it if I knew you were just leaving and"
They don't let me finish talking. Noah puts his hands on the sides of my dress,
hiking it up over my thighs as I let out a little squeal, then picks me up and carries
me to the nearest wall, pushing my back up hard against it. The mic pack digs into
my back, but I don't care.
My breath catches in my throat as he puts his lips against mine, and my body
responds to his touch. I let out a moan as he slides to his knees in his tuxedo,
pushing my thighs further apart. His fingertips graze the fabric covering my pussy.
"Your panties are all wet," he whispers, but it's more like a groan.
"I'm wet, and I have to go in ten eight minutes," I whisper. "And neither of
you should be here."
"We want no, we need to apologize," Aiden says. Standing beside me, he
turns my face toward his to kiss me hard on the mouth, his tongue seeking out
mine as Noah slides his finger under the fabric of my panties. I let out a long,
desperate moan into Aiden's mouth.
"I need to apologize on my knees," Noah growls. "I need to smell you. I need to
taste you. I need to make you come."
Oh my God.
It's wrong so wrong that I'm even considering doing this right now. I'm
minutes away from needing to be out there on stage, and I'm going to go out there
disheveled and reeking of orgasm? And I'm in here with them when I could so
easily be caught and- oh, shit, Aiden is slipping his fingers down the front of my
dress, covering my nipple, and Noah is pushing my panties to the side, his warm
mouth between my legs.
How in the world can I think rationally when they're doing what they're doing
right now?
I can't. I spread my thighs wider for Noah, groaning as he thrusts his fingers
inside my slick pussy before covering my clit with his mouth. "Oh my God," I
breathe. My body responds instantly so quickl to the sensation, the fact that it's
been two days since I've felt either of them between my legs made instantly
obvious.
I'm so quickly near climax I can hardly stand it.
"This is just a preview," Noah says as he flicks his tongue over and over my clit.
I'm so wet I think I'm dripping down my legs as Aiden reaches around my back,
fumbling with the zipper to my dress. He yanks out the mic pack.
"I'm taking this off," he growls. "I want your tits in my mouth."
"You can't," I breathe. "Oh my God. You can't. I have to go out there and you
can't make me look like I've been"
"Fucked?" Aiden growls. He throws the mic pack on the ground.
"Fucked. Yes," I breathe. "Holy shit."
Aiden pulls the loosened fabric of my dress down over my breast and tongues my
nipple as Noah fucks me harder with his fingers.
"When you finish with this political bullshit, you're going to come straight to
our bed, Grace Sullivan, and I'm going to come in this sweet"
Noah thrusts inside me with his fingers.
"Oh, God."
"Tight"
Thrust again.
"Perfect little pussy of yours," Noah says, the tips of his fingers pressing against
the sensitive spot inside me.
"And I'm going to come in your tight, little, almost-virgin asshole," Aiden says.
"Oh, fuck," I breathe. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck me." Aiden stifles my moan with
his mouth, but it hardly does anything to mute me as I come so hard with Noah's
face between my thighs.
The door bursts open.
I'm still coming as Brooks, Davis, and Vi run into the room. Noah's fingers are
still between my legs, my pussy still contracting around him and I'm dizzy, so
completely out of it, I don't even understand what's going on.
"Vi! What's wrong with you?! Get out of here!" I shriek.
"Don't say anything!" Vi orders, her voice shrill. "Don't say another word!" She
slides in her skirt and heels, grabbing the mic pack off the floor and yanking the
cords from it before she tears across the room and tosses the entire thing in a
pitcher of water.
"Ma'am, you need to come with us," Brooks says, her voice measured, as if it's
every day she walks in on the president's daughter getting it on with two football
players.
"Fuck," I whisper, panic rushing through me. "Turn around!"
They all spin around, and Noah slips his fingers from between my legs, standing
and pulling down my skirt as total chaos erupts. Vi and I are whisked out of the
room by Brooks and Davis while Noah and Aiden are immediately escorted behind
us by other Secret Service agents.
I can hardly catch my breath, my heart beating furiously. "What the hell is going
on?" I ask the question, even though I have a sinking suspicion based on Vi's
behavior with the mic pack.
But I don't want to say the words.
Brooks and Davis push us toward the SUV, but Vi puts her hand up. "Like hell
that's happening," she says, her voice tight. "Someone's already got the valet
pulling my car up, Grace."
"Ma'am, we need you to come with us," Brooks says firmly. "Your father"
"My father wants me to get in the car?" I look behind me for Noah and Aiden,
but I don't see them. I look at Vi. "Where's your car?"
"Come on," Vi says, taking my hand and pulling me behind her. The valet pulls
up in her car just as we reach it, and Vi is peeling away from the building as soon as
she shuts her car door. "Your security will follow us, but it beats being trapped with
your parents on Air Force One or something."
"Noah and Aiden" I start, looking in the side mirror behind us.
Vi shakes her head. "Out of there in the opposite direction," she says.
I exhale heavily. "Please tell me what I think just happened didn't just happen,"
I say, my voice trembling.
"I'm sorry, Grace."
"How?"
"The campaign manager had some dumb intern running the live feed, and the
girl turned it on early, I guess. Your mic pack didn't even look like it was working
when I left, so I'm not sure how I even missed something like that"
The image of Aiden tossing the mic pack on the floor flashes into my mind. "Oh,
God. It must have jarred something loose when he threw it or hit the on button
Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." The full realization of what everyone must have heard
hits me all at once and I collapse heavily back against the seat.
"They only heard part of it thirty seconds, maybe. But it was the last thirty
seconds when Noah and Aiden were telling you"
Oh, God. Telling me exactly what they wanted to do to me.
I think my heart actually stops beating.
Everyone heard that and the rest of it
I'm going to be sick.
"No," I whisper.
Vi's hand flies to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Grace," she repeats. "The room
heard a live feed of two football players giving the president's daughter an
orgasm."
Everything spins. I think I'm going to faint. Vi is saying something now, but it
sounds like she's speaking from far away, like she's in a tunnel. My phone is
ringing and ringing and ringing, interspersed with Vi's ringtone over and over and
over.
"Grace?" Vi asks. "Grace?"
Everything goes dark.
44
GRACE
"Hiding here was the right decision- the only right decision you've made in a long
time," my mother says with a scowl. She's wearing an all-white suit standing
in the middle of the expansive, modern, all-white room in one of Vi's ex's
mansions on Star Island where she practically blends in with the living room.
Vi drove us from Colorado to Miami nearly three full days of driving- where her
very wealthy ex (I'd call him a boyfriend but Vi doesn't do boyfriends) took us into
his gated compound, and we've been hiding out for the past day. We ditched our
cell phones on the way, and have been behind the gate since we arrived, so no one
except my security who followed me and the White House knows where we are. At
least for now.
I exhale heavily. I'm exhausted. I might not have internet or phone access, but I
saw the newspaper and tabloid headlines Vi's friend brought in this morning. I
wanted to see what the damage was with my own eyes.
It was as bad as I'd feared. Headlines this morning read "The O Heard Round the
World!" and "President's Daughter Donates Live Porn For Campaign Fundraiser!"
People are already selling my orgasm as a fucking ring-tone.
All of the articles have been about me. I might as well have an S for slut painted
on my forehead, because that's what they're calling me: the slutty daughter of the
president. Or the mentally ill daughter of the president.
None of the articles have mentioned Noah or Aiden by name. Yet. They've been
my unnamed lovers in every article. Or my rapists, depending on whos writing the
article.
"I don't need a lecture, mother. Did you come here for a reason or just to scold
me?"
"Scold you?" she asks, her voice going up an octave. "Scold you?! You didn't spill
ice cream on the front of your dress, Grace Monroe Sullivan. No, you acted like a
common whore and fucked two men on a live audio feed at your father's campaign
fundraiser!"
"Oh, fuck you," Vi bursts out. "And fuck your slut-shaming and fuck your
campaign fundraiser."
If my mother's head could spin entirely in circles, I think it would right now.
"You," she hisses. "You're not to say another goddamn word. If you think I don't
know what kind of an influence you've been on my daughter"
"Your daughter is twenty-six, not twelve," Vi says. "And she's been through
enough already."
"How dare you talk to me that way!" my mother screeches.
"Vi," I warn, finally finding my voice. Except my voice is conciliatory. "It's I
fucked up."
"You're damn right you fucked up," my mother yells. "You ruined everything for
your father. Do you understand that? His approval rating dropped twenty-two
percent in the last forty-eight hours. His polls are down by thirteen points! And, so
help me, you're going to fix it."
"Grace!" Vi says, looking at me with wide eyes. "Tell her to go to hell."
"But she's right. I shouldn't have done- that- at my father's campaign
fundraiser," I admit. "It was impulsive. And ill-considered. And I'm sorry it got
broadcast for everyone to hear. Hell, I'm more sorry about that than you can
imagine. I'm sorry I got caught." I take a deep breath and resolve to say what I'm
going to say, setting my jaw and looking at my mother with defiance in my veins.
"But I'm not sorry it happened."
"You'll be more than sorry, do you understand?" my mother shrieks. "You don't
want to think about your father's career? Fine. Don't want to consider all the good
he still has left to do during the next four years? Fine. Don't want to think about
the fact that you've completely destroyed your life forever, that you'll be
remembered as 'that girl' for the rest of your life? Fine. But you'll be doubly sorry
when your paramours lose their contracts, everything theyve worked for, because
of your inability to keep your legs closed!"
"Are you threatening me?" I ask, appalled. My own mother?
"Let me be crystal clear. We have fixers doing what they do at this very
moment patching up every loose end pertaining to this unfortunate affair. Now,
there's nothing that can be done to take back the fact that your voice has been
broadcast everywhere there were mobile uploads of you recorded on phones at the
fundraiser within seconds of it happening. But there are loose ends to tie up that
would affect your boyfriends greatly if they were to come untied."
"Don't listen to this, Grace," Vi interrupts.
"Shut up," my mother snaps. "Your neighbors, your colleagues, your staff at the
camp anywhere those men might have been seen with you are all being
interviewed as we speak. Payoffs are being made, favors being given, to retain their
silence. Non-disclosure agreements are being signed. Everything is being done to
ensure that at the very least, your boyfriends remain anonymous. And if you want
them to remain anonymous, you're going to do exactly what I say."
"Their silence they won't want that" I start, but my voice drifts off as I think
about the contract Noah is about to sign about the contract Aiden just signed.
There are morals clauses in those, aren't there? Behavior requirements. Noah and
Aiden said they had to stay on the straight and narrow.
45
AIDEN
It's been thirty days since we were picked up in an unmarked SUV outside of
training camp (because in the midst of all of this shit, training camp started) by
armed agents in suits and taken out of town to a landing strip where the First Lady
met us and told us to stand down.
"MY DAUGHTER HAS BEEN EVISCERATED in the media," she says frostily. "She has been torn
apart. My husband's last term in office and his re-election campaign are now
marred by this disgusting incident."
"Where is Grace?" I demand. I don't give a shit about the president's re-election
campaign or what the hell his last term in office is like.
"Grace is going to rehab," the First Lady tells us. "It'll be announced tomorrow.
This little dalliance she's had with the two of you is going to be written off as a
byproduct of a nervous breakdown triggered by the stress of working on her
father's campaign and running the foundation."
"What, are you kidnapping her?" scoffs Noah. "This is ridiculous."
The First Lady raises her eyebrows. "Oh, I see. You think she's being held
against her will? How quaint. I'd figured both of you were slightly more worldly
than this."
"She wouldn't have chosen to go to rehab," I say.
She narrows her eyes. "Did you really think that the daughter of the President of
the United States is going to continue an affair with two athletes?" She practically
spits the word. "You didn't think this was ever going to work long-term, did you?
Surely the two of you aren't that nave. She was never going to choose you over her
family you do understand that, don't you? The First Daughter wasn't going to pick
even one of you over her image and her family and her career and her country. She
certainly wasn't going to choose both of you."
"We want to talk to her," Noah growls.
"Oh, you want to talk to her?" The First Lady mocks him. "That would do
wonders for her reputation, wouldn't it? If you care at all about her, you'll leave her
in peace so that she can pull together the scraps of dignity she has left."
VI SHOWS up on our doorstep, barging into the house without a word and walking
straight into the living room like she owns the place. Nice digs, she comments.
Very grown-up for athletes.
Did you come here to comment on our interior decorating, or do you have news
about Grace? I ask.
Noah crosses his arms. Like where the fuck is she?
Shes home, Vi tells us.
Shes home? I ask. Un-fucking-believable. Shes been silent for a month, and
now shes home not more than a hundred yards away from us and weve had
exactly zero communication from her. No text message, no email, nothing. Like,
right-beside-this-place, home?
Vi nods. She doesnt know Im here.
Noah groans his frustration. So she disappears for a month and then comes
back to her house, which is right beside my place, and doesnt even bother to say,
oh, I dont know Hello, sorry I disappeared, Im back?
Look, dont get all pissy with me, Vi says. Like I said, she doesnt even know
Im here. In fact, Ive been expressly forbidden to talk to you.
Why the hell would you be forbidden to talk to us? I ask. I can understand
Grace being upset about what happened fuck, the media has been all over it. Shes
been in every damn tabloid in the country. But she cant be pissed off at us for not
fessing up to being with her when she decided to run off to some bullshit rehab for
the last month
Vi interrupts me. Her parents convinced her to do it, she says.
Yeah, we gathered that. We got a visit from the First Lady, Noah grumbles.
She made it clear that we shouldnt have ever expected Grace to slum it with guys
like us. White trash athletes dont get with girls like her, right? Grace clearly chose
her path, and thats what she wants to do. So if you have something else to say that
doesnt involve rubbing that fact in our faces, say it so you can get the hell out of
my house.
Grace didnt choose not to slum it with you two, as you so eloquently put it, Vi
says. She chose not to take your careers down in flames with her image.
What the fuck does that mean? I ask.
Did you really honestly think Grace would choose to walk away from you
because youre athletes and not billionaires or politicians? Vi asks. You cant be
that dense.
She could have come to us, I say. You took off with her that night. You could
have brought her here, and we would have protected her. Instead, you ran off with
her and the next thing we hear is from the First Lady. And the fucking newspapers.
Everything else is radio silence from both of you.
Im her best friend, Vi says. But shes a big girl who makes her own
decisions. And her decision was to do what was best for you.
I dont even know what the hell that means, Noah says, his voice loud. How
was this what was best for anyone other than her parents?
Vi exhales loudly. The First Lady had everyone who knew anything about the
three of you together silenced not killed, I mean, just paid off in exchange for
Grace going along with the nervous breakdown story.
Why would she do that? I ask. We would have come out as the guys involved.
Im not fucking ashamed of any of it!
Because of your contracts, obviously, Vi says. Grace knew that Noah was
about to sign a contract worth millions
Id already signed it, Noah interrupts.
What? Vi asks.
Id already signed the contract. That was one of the things I was going to tell
her at the fundraiser before we before everything happened. Id signed the
contract earlier. It was a done deal. She went along with this because she thought it
would protect us?
Its Grace, Vi says, sighing. Of course she went along with it. Shes always
worried about helping everyone before herself. Its her biggest flaw.
Why wouldnt she just come talk to us about it? I ask.
Because if it came down to it, she didnt want you to have to make the choice
between her or your careers. She didnt want you to resent her for it. Vi exhales.
And I was okay going along with it, because its what she wanted. But shes not
happy, and Im hoping youre not happy either.
Of course were not fucking happy, I snap.
Well, then, do something about it. Shes right next door.
So we should break the door down and talk some sense into her? Noah asks,
his voice gravelly.
Well, my advice would be to finesse it just a little bit more than that, Vi
suggests. She might have been misguided, but she still thinks that by staying
away from you, shes protecting you. And shes been through a hell of a month. It
was hard enough to convince her to come back to her house instead of living in
hiding for the next year, or moving to the other side of the world.
I think of the shit shes been through the stories that have been written about
her, the names shes been called and realize that Noah and I havent faced any of
that.
And she did it because she thought she was protecting us.
46
GRACE
I ts my first night back in my house, and this place is shut up tighter than Fort
Knox. The shades on the windows are drawn, the doors are dead-bolted shut, and
my new private bodyguards are posted in the backyard, the front yard, and in front
of my gate. I told my parents I was refusing Secret Service protection I liked
Brooks and Davis well enough, but theres no way I was letting a security detail
report my every move to my parents now but there are two unmarked SUVs
parked down the road from my house watching me anyway.
The neighborhood had to hire an additional security guy for the front gate
because of all of the reporters, and despite the increased security, my bodyguards
still had to get rid of two reporters who had managed to find their way to the front
of my house earlier today.
My neighborhood wants me gone.
Over the past month, Ive gotten death threats, been called every name in the
book, and been pretty much vilified in the national media. People have expressed
their sympathies for my parents or declared them the worst parents in the history
of the universe.
I didnt go to rehab, although it probably would have been better than hiding out
for the last month in the undisclosed location my parents arranged. Yesterday, I
was discharged and requesting personal space in this trying time as I recover.
The truth is, the last month has been a terribly shitty one but not because of all
of the media craziness or because people in America think Im either the sluttiest
girl in the world or the epitome of sexual liberation, depending on who you ask. Its
been terrible because Ive had to stay away from Noah and Aiden, despite wanting
to email them or text them or call them and just say this was all some kind of awful
joke and Id see them at home.
I wanted to call them a million times this month and tell them that I regretted
going along with my mothers plan to keep me under the radar.
I also wanted to tell them that I didnt regret anything that happened with
them.
Instead, I developed a slight obsession with Colorado football while I was away,
watching the sports channels videos of their training camp and trying to catch a
glimpse of them. I felt responsible when I read that Noah got angry and stormed
out of a media session, and when sports commentators described Noah and Aiden's
overly aggressive attitudes on the field.
But tonight, my regret is magnified about a thousand times as I sit here inside
my house thats as silent as a tomb. I peer through the curtains that cover the
window to my deck, momentarily contemplating going out to the deck and sitting
in the evening summer air, the way I would have before.
You need to get back to the way things were before, Grace.
Get back to your old routine.
Stop hiding.
All sage pieces of advice from Vi, except that assumes everything can go back to
what it was before.
I try not to look at Noah and Aidens house, but its impossible not to, and of
course the second I do, everything Ive tried to suppress for the last month
everything I felt before comes rushing to the surface. And in an instant, I cant
breathe. In an instant, my chest feels like its being crushed by an enormous
weight, and Im sitting on the floor trying to catch my breath.
I cant stay here. It was a stupid, stupid idea to think that I could just come back
to my house right beside theirs and everything would be normal.
I dont know how long I sit like that on my bedroom floor with my back to the
French doors before I hear buzzing, quickly followed by a gunshot. Before I even
pull open the bedroom door, my bodyguard is tearing up the stairs and inside my
bedroom. Youre safe, maam.
I heard
It was one of those drones, he says. The tabloids use them to get aerial views
of their targets and take photos of them. Its been neutralized.
A drone, I repeat numbly. For a second, my heart stops beating. No, it
wouldnt be Noah and Aiden. It couldnt be. It would be a reporter. Thirty-three
days ago, I basically told Noah and Aiden I wanted nothing more to do with them
not in so many words, but my actions were clear.
One of the other members of the security team is in the backyard with the
evidence. The FBI has already been contacted.
Can I just I shouldnt even go outside. I should ignore what just happened,
close up the house, and get out of here. I should have packers move everything and
find a new place, somewhere far from all of this.
Except I dont.
I walk out onto the balcony, even as my well-meaning bodyguard protests,
looking down onto the yard where the drone has been blown to smithereens. And
where there are what the hell?- hundreds of little quarter-sized glowing circles
scattered through the grass, an explosion of glow-in-the-dark
No.
I squint at the grass before looking up at Noah and Aidens house. Their lights
are on, but I dont see any movement inside the house and I cant see into their
yard.
Still, I ask anyway.
What are the the things in the yard?
The bodyguard clears his throat. Theyre prophylactics, maam.
Excuse me?
Condoms.
Condoms, I repeat flatly. Glow-in-the-dark condoms.
Yes, maam. Clearly its the work of someone mentally ill or
Or
I look back over at Noah and Aidens house.
Was there anything else?
Excuse me, maam?
Anything else. Was there anything else that was left in my yard?
Maam, you can trust us to do our jobs, he says. You hired us to protect you
not only from threats to your safety, but also threats to your mental health. Our job
is to intercept messages from the people who might be fixated on you because of
Yes. I understand. My heart is beating a thousand times a minute now. But
was there anything else left? I need to know.
There was a He clears his throat, obviously uncomfortable. There was a
doll. An inflatable doll.
A blow-up doll. I look over at Noah and Aidens house again.
After all Ive done to keep their identities secret, they wouldnt dare jeopardize
everything the first day I came home, would they?
And worse, why does the thought of that make my breath catch in my throat?
Why does it send hope surging through me for the first time in a month?
Yes, maam. Obviously, well be intercepting some disturbing things as you get
settled back into your routine, but my experience is these things do tend to die
down fairly quickly, even if it doesnt seem like it in the moment.
Hes trying to be encouraging, but the only thing I can focus on is the blow-up
doll.
Was there a note?
Pardon?
With the blow-up doll. Was there a note with it?
Maam, I really dont think that knowing the details is a positive
Was there a note? I snap.
I believe so, maam.
Show it to me.
Maam, in my experience, these sickos who send these kinds of things really
I want to see it, I say, my voice shaking. Please show me the note.
It will be considered evidence at this point and please dont do anything
rash.
But Im already headed downstairs and to the front door, my bodyguard in tow. I
dont go to the backyard where the remnants of the drone and the condoms and the
blow-up doll are. Instead, I walk down the driveway, ignoring the bodyguards
advice to stay away from the gate and the road in front of the house.
I dont know what Im doing. My thoughts are swirling around in my head as I
walk. Ive had an entire month to do nothing except think about what happened
with Noah and Aiden, and why I did what I did.
I had resolved to be okay with my choice to adhere to my parents plan.
I rationalized it. I told myself it was the best possible decision I could make in a
shitty situation.
Except that right now none of that makes sense in the face of what has to be
Noah and Aidens completely stupid attempt at reaching out to me.
Now, my decision seems idiotic as I push open the front gate and ignore the
guard posted there who tells me to stay inside.
Im not a prisoner in my own house, am I? I ask absently, looking around for
any sign of Noah and Aiden.
For a minute, I wonder if its all in my head. This could have been a sick persons
idea of a joke.
Except that there they are.
The gate to Noahs house opens and there they are, walking out of it, wearing
trench coats? In the middle of the summer, with their bare legs sticking out
underneath.
Are they about to flash me?
Even after all thats happened, the thought immediately sends a pang of arousal
straight to my core, and mentally I curse myself for my attraction to these guys who
thought that sending a note-carrying blow-up doll and glow-in-the-dark condoms
was an appropriate way to say hello.
These men, the ones who send drones to my house, are the men I tried to protect
by hiding out and pretending to have lost my mind when clearly, theyre the crazy
ones.
The crazy men who are standing in front of me in their trench coats and what I
assume is absolutely nothing else underneath, while one of the bodyguards yells at
them to back away from me.
The insane men who break into the widest grins Ive ever seen as I stand there,
so that I cant remember why the hell I ever thought that keeping this a secret was
a good idea in the first place.
We have a hell of a lot to say to you, sugar, Aiden starts.
One of the bodyguards interrupts. Back away from the First Daughter.
But I put my hand up. Its okay. I know them. Theyre my I pause, realizing
Im about to say boyfriends, but thats not accurate because theyre not anymore,
are they?
Say it, Grace, Noah orders, his expression intense. Say what you were about
to say.
But I dont. I close my mouth, and then I open my mouth again, and then I close
it again, and then I open it again. Like a fish. I was about to ask if youre planning
on flashing me.
Well, now, that all depends, Aiden says. Are you planning on admitting you
were wrong?
Admitting that I was wrong?! I ask. I just spent a month pretending to have
had a nervous breakdown so my psychopathic parents wouldnt out you two as the
guys fucking me at the fundraiser!
My voice is too loud. Way too damn loud. And I'm yelling in the middle of the
street.
One of the bodyguards clears his throat behind me, and I realize theyre right
behind me. Um. I clear my own throat. Could I have a few minutes, please?
Thats right, you did, Noah says. Now, did we ask you to do that?
I thought youd be grateful that I didnt decimate your careers, I say, bristling
at the question.
Aiden steps closer to me, looking down at me, his expression softening. Hes
standing so close and Ive missed him them so much that I close my eyes,
breathing him in, drinking in his scent. And I swear that I must have been living for
the past month in black-and-white, because when I open my eyes, its like
everything is Technicolor. I feel alive, more alive than I've felt in the last month.
Im a junkie who needs her fix, and I can hardly breathe as Noah steps closer,
taking my hand in his.
You ever think that you might have wanted to consult with us before you fell on
your sword, sugar? Aiden asks.
I didnt want you to have to make that choice, I say, my voice tight. If it came
down to a choice between me and football, I didnt want you to have to choose.
You should have given us all of the available information and let us make a
decision, Noah says, throwing back exactly what I told him before when he didnt
tell me about the potential contracts outside of Colorado.
Were in the middle of the road, I whisper.
Thats right. Were in the middle of the fucking road, and neither of us care,
Noah says.
What are you saying? I ask.
The night we came to the fundraiser, before we got occupied with other
things, I was going to tell you that we werent just coming there to apologize. I
signed a contract with Colorado, Noah says. Im not leaving. And theres no
morality clause in my damn contract. As long as Im not robbing banks or stealing
handbags from old ladies, nobody's firing me."
Ditto, Aiden says. My attorney says Im good.
And you would have known all of that if youd come here instead of running off
with Vi that night.
So what I did was for nothing, I realize. For the last month, Ive been
trying to protect you and well, why the hell didnt you go public, then, if you
didnt care?
Well, we thought you might have realized that a couple of football players were
beneath you, and that you wouldnt want more attention drawn to the incident
than already was on it, Noah says.
Why would I think that you were beneath ohhh. My mother.
We did get a visit from the First Lady, Aiden admits.
Well. I dont know what to say. I cant think straight when Im standing so
close to them like this smelling them, nearly touching them and all I want them
to do is pick me up and carry me back into the house and stay there for another
thirty days.
Well, I sure as hell do, Noah says. The last month sucked, and I dont want to
do it again.
Ditto, Aiden interjects. For the good of mankind, you just cant leave us
again.
For the good of mankind?
That was a little dramatic, Aiden says. For the good of everyone around us. Is
that better?
I raise my eyebrows. Thats what you came out here to say?
Nope, Noah says. We came out here to say we love you.
We love you and we fucking want you, Aiden adds. And neither of us give a
shit about anyone else's opinions about those facts.
We love you. We want you. And youre ours. That pretty much sums it up, right,
Aiden? Noah asks.
And were taking you home, Aiden says. Your house or ours. Pick one, but
make sure its one youre comfortable with.
Why is that? I ask.
Because youre not going to be able to walk tomorrow, Aiden starts.
Noah interrupts. Sweetheart, youve been gone for thirty days. If you think
youre going to be able to walk anytime in the next month, youd be mistaken.
Is this the part where Im supposed to tell you to pick me up and carry me
inside the house right now? I ask. Or do I get half a second to say I love you back
before you threaten to immobilize me?
Say it, Aiden orders.
I just did!
Say it again, Noah commands.
I love you both.
They dont let me utter another word. Aiden brings his mouth to mine, his kiss
soft and tender and gentle at first but quickly turning into something entirely
different as his tongue finds mine. His hands go to my face, his palms on either
side, and he kisses me and kisses me and kisses me until Im breathless.
When he finally pulls his lips from mine, I dont have a second to catch my
breath before Noah is sliding his arm around my waist to the small of my back and
yanking me against him. His hardness is evident even through the coat, and heat
floods my body at the sensation of him pressed against me. I melt into his arms, my
legs practically turning to jelly as he kisses me hard, rough, passionate, not the
47
NOAH
G race giggles as I hoist her over my shoulder and carry her down the hallway to
my room. Our room. Fuck, were going to need a bigger room if the three of us are
going to do this. Hell, or just a bigger bed, at the very least.
I drop her directly onto the bed. She looks up, her cheeks flushed and her green
eyes bright. "Wait," she says. "I have one question."
"Shoot." Aiden and I wait expectantly.
"What is the deal with the trench coats, anyway?"
"We thought you might" I start, but Aiden interrupts.
"Hate us," he says.
"Hate is a strong word," I continue. "We thought you might not be happy to see
us, after the month you've had and the way it was really all our fault."
"How was it all your fault?" I ask.
"Obviously you couldn't resist us the night of the fundraiser," Aiden says.
"Because we're so sexy."
"Yeah, that was clearly it. There's something about guys in trench coats," Grace
murmurs.
"So, we figured we suck pretty hard at romance, but we're pretty good at
comedy," Aiden goes on.
"What's funny about trench coats?" Grace asks.
So we drop the coats to the floor and show her.
The fact that we haven't seen her in a month works in our favor, because both of
us are rock-hard.
"You knitted sweaters for your dicks," Grace realizes. "Do those saylove?" She
looks back and forth between us as she reads the lettering. "We love you."
"Impressive, right?" I ask, glancing at Aiden. "I told you she'd be impressed."
"She was more impressed with the drone," Aiden says. "And the banana band."
"You can't take credit for the banana band. You know that was Annies doing.
"Stop talking," Grace orders, standing up beside the bed. I watch, trying not to
gape like Ive never seen her naked before as Grace takes off her shirt, unhooks and
removes her bra, and dangles it from her fingers to tease us before dropping it to
the floor. She unbuttons her jeans and shimmies out of them, then does the same
thing Ive ever seen, down on her knees like she is right now- naked, her eyes
clouded with lust and desire. She takes me in deeper, moaning loudly when I thrust
my cock into her throat. Its been so long since Ive been inside her that I want to
fuck her senseless. The image of her jerking Aiden off while she sucks my cock is
enough to make me come almost immediately.
But she doesn't let me. She pulls her mouth away and looks up at us as she
strokes both of us at the same time. Do you know what I thought about when I was
gone?
My voice comes out gruff"What?" as Aiden groans.
I thought about this, she says, her voice husky. Our cocks are so close to her
face, and all I can think about is how lush her lips are, how perfect her tits are, and
how much I want to come on them right now. I thought about the night that you
both came in my mouth.
Fuck.
Shit, Grace, Aiden groans.
Youre about to make us do it again, I warn.
I hope so, she whispers. I watch as she opens her mouth just like she did that
first time in the kitchen, tilting up her head until we're nearly touching her tongue.
The sight of her like this, open and wanting us, pushes me over the fucking edge.
I hear myself groan, followed by Aiden, and then were both coming into her
open mouth while she looks up at us and swallows everything we give her.
48
AIDEN
G race is on her knees, her hair falling back away from her face and down her
shoulders, looking up at us after we just came in her mouth. I cant get over the fact
that this woman this smart, successful, used-to-be-tightly-wound woman is
ours.
That she wants to be ours.
Noah and I reach down and pull her to her feet, and I carry her to the bed where
she kneels as I kiss my way down the front of her body. She leans into him as Noah
puts his lips on her neck, and when I cover her breast with my mouth, she tosses
her head back and moans loudly. Shes practically panting as I bring her nipple to
attention under my tongue, rolling over it again and again until its a hard little
bead.
I just cant get enough of her.
Noah and I reach between her legs, both of us finding her pussy with our finger
at the same time. Grace lets out a small gasp as both our fingers enter her. She
clings to my arms while Noah and I finger-fuck her pussy at the same time,
stroking her in opposite directions.
Her eyes dont leave mine. Her gaze is locked on mine and she alternates
between biting her lip and gasping as we slowly bring her higher and higher. Shes
tight and wet and slicker than anything Ive ever felt.
The fact that Noah and I both have our fingers inside her, that were both
bringing her this much pleasure, makes me crazy with lust.
Noah growls, grinding his cock against her ass cheek. Do you feel how hard this
is making me, sweetheart? Knowing that both of us are fucking you with our
fingers? Feeling your tight little pussy on our hands?
She lets out a whimper, and her pussy swells around our fingers. I want to
come, she whispers.
But I don't want her to come this quickly. I dont want you to come like this,
sugar. I want you to come on my face."
Noah groans. And mine.
Thats not possible she objects, but I put my finger up to her lips.
I want you to straddle my face, I tell her, as I slide down on the bed, my face
49
GRACE
O n the bed, I lie on my side facing Aiden. Nestled up against me, Noah kisses my
neck, sending a shiver of arousal through me and causing goose bumps to erupt
over my skin. As Aiden softly kisses me, heat settles between my legs, my arousal
building despite just having had an orgasm.
Aiden slides his palm under my thigh, spreading my legs as he enters me. He
slides easily inside my slick pussy, but I inhale sharply at the sensation of his bare
cock entering me. God, I missed that.
He rocks inside me with slow thrusts, looking into my eyes as Noah presses the
tip of his lubricated cock against my asshole. Fuck, Noah groans. Are you ready
for me, Grace?
Yes, I breathe. The word becomes a whimper as he slowly works his way inside
me. Aiden puts his mouth on mine, his tongue distracting me from the initial pain.
When Noah is fully inside, they pause. I lie between them, totally filled up by
both of them, adjusting to the sensation of their cocks inside me at the same time.
Being between them like this, with Aiden cupping my face in his hands and Noahs
arm around my chest, is the most intimate thing in the world.
I missed your pussy, Aiden whispers. I missed your pussy and your tits and
your perfect little mouth and your laugh and the way youre looking at me right
now. I just missed you.
Noah brushes my hair from my forehead, whispering into my ear. Youre ours,
Grace Sullivan. Say it.
Im yours, I say as they begin to move slowly inside me. Then there are no
more words because there's nothing left to say. We fall into a rhythm as they bring
me higher and higher and I lose track of everything else in the world except them.
None of the other stuff matters not my parents, or politics, or what everyone in
the world is going to think about the three of us.
The only thing that matters is Noah and Aiden and I.
Theyre the only thing I can focus on as I float higher and higher, every part of
my body turned on until Im on the verge. When I finally come, its so intense its
practically blinding, overtaking my entire body. My orgasm triggers theirs and soon
theyre thrusting deeply inside me to flood me with their warmth.
After, we stay just like that with both of them still inside me, our limbs tangled
over one anothers for a long time. Noahs fingers stroke lazily up and down my
arm, and Aiden cups my chin, his thumb going across my lower lip.
Im so glad you came back, Aiden whispers. We needed you.
More than you know, Noah adds.
Im glad I came back, too. I needed them, I want to say. More than they could
realize.
Even though tomorrow, when you wake up, the entire scene in the street will
probably be making its way all over the internet? Aiden asks. Im sure one of the
neighbors got some good footage.
Fuck em, I whisper.
Fuck em, Noah and Aiden agree.
Noah walks up behind me and slides his arms around my waist. What are you
doing out here? We made dinner.
I relax against him, breathing him in, and look out over the backyard cloaked in
evening darkness. Just stand out here for a minute with me.
We got crazy and made chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert, Aiden calls
as he walks up to us on the balcony. Unless you want us to have you for dessert.
Wait, are you guys out here having a romantic moment or something?
We can have chocolate-dipped Grace for dessert, Noah suggests.
Aiden tilts my chin up and puts his lips to mine, the sensation so familiar now.
Id definitely eat you for dessert, he says. Thats romantic as hell.
Our version of romance, anyway, I agree.
EPILOGUE
Grace
One year later
"I SWEAR, if either of you have another sparkly sex toy up your sleeve for this Fourth
of July" I threaten, but my tone is playful. Noah slaps me on the ass, and I try to
swat him but miss.
"Well, now I feel like it's my patriotic duty to find another July Fourth sex toy,
Aiden says.
Do not, I tell him. Were staying at that bed and breakfast near town. Thin
walls that means no shenanigans, or else the entire town of West Bend will be
talking about it."
Shenanigans? You sound like Noah, Aiden comments.
Shes picking up my vocabulary, Noah agrees.
Great. Now Im going to sound like an eighty-year old woman? I groan
exaggeratedly.
Bess pulls the door open, slinging a checkered red-and-white towel over her
shoulder. Why are the three of you standing out here on the porch instead of
walking inside the house like normal people? she asks, shaking her head. Youre
not strangers, so you dont need to wait out here for me to come get you!
Hi, Mom. Noah kisses her cheek and Aiden follows suit.
When Bess reaches me, she gives me a one-armed hug, her flour-covered hand
away from my shoulder. Im baking, and Im going to cover you with flour here if I
dont watch it.
Its all right. I laugh as we follow her to the kitchen and then out to the
backyard. Bess decided that the Fourth of July backyard barbeque should be a
tradition, so here we all are together.
Hey, big brother! Annie sees us from across the yard and runs headlong at
Aiden.
Dude, when are you going to stop tackling me? he asks. You know youre
never pushing me over, kiddo.
Whatever. Youre getting soft in your old age, she says, grinning.
Youre really going to smack-talk me? Aiden asks. You know what happens
when you do. Im going to give you a noogie right now.
No way! Annie squeals. I just had my hair blown out! Grace, tell him not to
mess it up!
She takes off running and Aiden takes off after her. Bess stands in the doorway
to the kitchen, looking out at us and shaking her head. Theyll never grow up,
she calls. You know that, dont you?
Ive figured that much out by now, I tell her.
Annie has grown up, though except for when she's around Aiden. She's bright
and articulate and exactly what my new foundation needed. So I hired her on a
month ago now. Thats right, Ive started my own foundation. It's six months old
now, and it's challenging and exciting and Im not doing it under the thumb of my
parents.
I havent spoken to my parents in the past year well, other than when my
mother called to express her disgust at the interview I did with Noah and Aiden. To
be fair, they were in a tough position; even if my father had secretly wanted to
support our very public relationship, the people who put him in office wouldnt
have stood for it.
And if theres one thing Ive always known about my father, its that hed
choose politics he'd choose himself over anything else, every time.
So he and my mother expressed their profound regret at my lifestyle choice
and that was that. He was banged up in the polls for a little while, but even so, he
was re-elected. He tried to call me last month I got the Please hold for the
President of the United States call but I declined it.
Maybe he was going to try to patch things up, since he'd won the election, or
maybe he was calling to remind me what a mistake I was making with my life by
being with Noah and Aiden.
But either way, I didn't care.
Noah and Aiden never lost their contracts. In fact, Noah said his head coach's
exact words were: "This couldn't make me like you any less than I do right now."
He never could stand Noah anyway. Noah just shrugged it off and went back to
playing what he loves.
Now that it's been almost a year, everyone seems pretty used to the idea of the
three of us together. I've been at every game cheering them on. I did learn a little
bit about football during the month I was hiding out from everything. But mostly, I
remain blissfully ignorant of everything except the fact that Noah and Aiden look
pretty damn hot in those tight pants.
My phone buzzes. Vi sends me a photo of her in a piece from her new swimwear
line, sitting on a yacht and holding a champagne flute while two shirtless men kiss
CONTINUE READING for Prince Albert and a sneak preview of the book Im working on
next! If you want to read more books set in the town of West Bend, where Noah and
Aiden are from, be sure to check out my West Bend Saints Series!
PRINCE ALBERT
Sabrina Paige
DEDICATION
AUTHORS NOTE
Prince Albert has been brewing in my head pretty much ever since I published my
last stepbrother book. Its the most ridiculous, over-the-top, and totally
implausible story Ive written.
And I hope you love it.
The country, Protrovia, is fictional.
And theres more sex than you might be used to from my books. For that, well, I
cant say Im all that sorry.
1
BELLE
Y ou, I say.
I recall bumping into Isabella in Las Vegas last week, he says, his voice light,
teasing, the hint of an accent on his lips. Everything he says, even the raunchiest of
things, comes out sounding like its spoken by a person whos well-bred, welleducated, pedigreed.
Of course, thats because he is the ultimate in well-bred.
I didnt realize who she was," he says.
And I definitely remember the way he speaks the raunchiest of things.
"Yes," I murmur, the word barely audible. "I believe we bumped into each
other."
That much is true.
"OH MY GOD. Why dont you watch where you're going!" I dont even bother to look
up at the asshole who just ran into me. Im too focused on the fact that theres a
wet spot spreading across the front of my dress, gin and tonic seeping through the
fabric and causing my nipples to harden under the amped-up air conditioning in
the casino.
"My apologies for your dress, although I'm not sorry I bumped into you," he
says. And a handkerchief appears in front of my face. Who the hell carries a fabric
handkerchief nowadays? "I'd be happy to pat that dry for you, if youd like."
The accent is what throws me European or something I cant quite place, but
definitely out of the ordinary here in a Vegas casino and I look up at him, ready to
give him a piece of my mind. The combination of alcohol and the fact that this is
the worst day of my entire life has made me edgy and beyond irritable.
Holy shit.
Even in my drunken haze, this guy is spectacular, gazing down at me with blue
eyes filled with mischief. Literally, spectacular is the only word for it.
Hes the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on, with eyes a periwinkle color
thats nearly purple under the lights in the casino, and lips so lush that I can't
think about anything except what it would be like to feel them against my skin
Of course, thats the image that immediately pops into my head, sending a
shiver down my spine as I picture his head close to me, his lips trailing across my
stomach, then down farther.
Theres something familiar about him, but my booze-addled brain cant quite
place it. For a second, I think I might have seen him before, but I tell myself thats
stupid. Its just my brain playing tricks on me.
This is not the kind of man youd ever forget seeing.
"Is that your shtick? I ask, the waver in my voice betraying my sudden
nervousness. Spilling drinks on girls and then patting them down?"
He laughs. "I don't need a shtick, luv," he says, leaning close to me to whisper
softly. "Unless you mean the one between my legs."
"You're crude," I say, wrinkling my nose. But I cant help but glance down,
exactly where he wanted me to look.
"You're" His voice fades away for a moment as his gaze trails down the length
of my body, making me flush. "Like a drunken disheveled Cinderella."
"So that would make you, what, the not-so-charming prince?" I ask, glancing
down at my shoe on the ground. I lost my shoe. So what? I was running from her -my best friend. My maid-of-honor.
The traitorous bitch.
The corners of his mouth turn up as he looks at me like he's pleased. His smile is
superior, patronizing almost, as if I'm a child who's amused him. "Something like
that."
throat.
I am not getting married -- because I already am. The thought makes me want
to vomit.
Im already married.
To my brand-spanking-new stepbrother.
Prince Albert, the Crown Prince of Protrovia.
This is a royal fucking nightmare.
2
BELLE
I sabella Kensington, my mother hisses. This is not the time nor place.
If she only knew how badly this was not the time nor place.
Oh, juicy. King Leopolds daughter stands on the other side of the room,
leaning against an ornate carved wooden statue that's trimmed in gold and
glittering with precious gems, her torn jeans and faded t-shirt emblazoned with the
name of an indie rock band from the United States. She is a stark contrast to the
formality of this room in the palace.
I look around the room with a clinical kind of detachment that means Im
probably in shock. I havent even had a chance for a tour of the palace. I wonder if
this room is the place where they announce bad news. Do royal palaces have
designated bad news rooms? They should.
I suppose my mother and the king Leo only think their nuptials are good
news.
The girl I cant even remember her name; its like my mind has gone
completely empty -- pops her gum loudly. Sweet. A broken engagement? At least
Im not the only one causing drama for once.
Leopold gives her a disapproving look. Yes, Alexandra, he says, scowling at
her. Thats certainly a silver lining.
So the two of you are getting married, Alexandra says, crossing her arms over
her chest. I think were all pretty clear on that. Youve been seeing each other all
summer. Its not exactly a big secret, okay? Were one big happy family. Smile for
the press and all that. Are we done now?
Alexandra! Leopold bellows, his deep baritone thundering through the room.
The sound makes me jump, and it seems to surprise him, like hes not used to
losing his temper, because he clears his throat immediately. Yes. Sofia and I are
getting married.
Am I the only one in the world who didnt know?
Even isolated in a rural village in Africa before I came back to the States to
Vegas, because of my engagement -- I got mail. My mother could have told me
before this.
She could have sent a postcard or something:
Wish you were here. P.S. Im marrying a European monarch. Youre going to be a
princess!
THE KING CONTINUES, saying something using words like decorum and public eye and
propriety but I dont hear what he says. Its like hes speaking in a tunnel, his
words coming from someplace in the distance, and my head is swimming. I know
Im standing still, but it feels as if Im on a boat, the floor rocking back and forth.
Someone asks me if Im okay, but I cant seem to muster up a response.
Instead, I turn and run headlong through the room. My palms slam against the
heavy, ornately-carved wooden door, pushing it open without waiting for the
assistance of the man standing beside it. Is he a butler? Do palaces have butlers, or
is there a fancier term for them?
When I burst out the door, a bulky, imposing man in a suit with an earpiece in
his ear catches my elbow. Are you okay, Miss Kensington?
I shake my head, mute. The fact that he knows my name is fucking creepy. But
of course he knows my name. Im sure they know everything about me.
Oh God. What if they know about what happened in Vegas?
The thought brings a fresh wave of nausea to the surface, and I barely choke out
the word bathroom. The bodyguard points me in the direction of a room ten feet
down the hall, attempting to escort me, but I shake his hand off my arm and shut
myself inside, barely making it to a velvet-covered bench that must be several
hundred years old before my legs give way.
My breath comes in short gasps, and I feel lightheaded, on the verge of
hyperventilating. I try to slow my breath, reminding myself that I can't freak out.
Not here. Not now.
Closing my eyes, I think of other things -- things that don't involve being the
center of what's potentially the biggest scandal in the entire world.
Or, if not the entire world, at least the Western one. Or Europe.
Any way I think about it, it's a scandal involving several countries. It's the worst
possible scenario for someone whose idea of a nightmare is being in the public eye
at all.
I've successfully avoided any public attention for the last two years. Thats not
easy to do when your mother craves the public eye the way mine does, a whirlwind
of charity functions and social events. In fact, escaping all of that meant I had to
flee to another continent entirely.
I've been so disconnected from the outside world that I had no idea who he was.
And now, I feel like a complete and total idiot for not recognizing Prince Albert.
Hes only one of the most famous princes on earth. Notorious would probably be a
better word for it, known more for his antics in the bedroom than any kind of
political activity.
The door swings open and there he is, as if simply thinking about him was
enough to conjure him up out of nothing, summoned here by the universe. I
silently curse my luck. "Get out of here," I hiss, the words barely coming out, my
breath still short.
"Are you having a panic attack or a total mental breakdown?" he asks.
"Neither," I lie. In fact, I might very well be having a breakdown. Maybe Im
hallucinating this entire scenario.
"Good," he says. "I'd hate to think I over-estimated you."
I just needed a second," I say, my voice defensive. I don't know where this guy
gets off talking about over-estimating me. "Leave me alone."
"Not a chance," he says, still standing by the doorway. "Count to ten after I walk
out this door before you follow me. When you leave here, turn right and go down
the hallway. There's a Monet -- it's the third painting on the right side of the wall.
Push on the panel beside it. It's a secret passageway."
A secret passageway? Of course there's a secret passageway. It's a palace. Ive
practically walked right onto the set of a James Bond film. "Youre nuts if you think
I'm about to follow you into a secret passageway," I say, my panic turning into
disbelief.
He gives me a cocky grin and shrugs. "Don't pretend you have anything better to
do, luv," he says. "Unless you're planning to get on a plane and head back to
Africa?"
"How do you know I was in -- " Africa, I start to say, but he's already turned
around. Damn it.
I sit there in the bathroom, my heart no longer racing the way it was, no longer
panicked and anxious. Instead, my heart pounds wildly in my chest for different
reasons as I look at the closed door, where he just left. The thought of the way he
looks at me, his gaze traveling the length of my body, sends warmth radiating
through my body.
We spent one night together and not even that way. I havent been with him.
It was one random night in Vegas, driving around in a limo.
And getting married.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
I thought I would never see him again. I shouldnt have ever seen him again.
And how in the world was I supposed to know he was a prince? Or my future
stepbrother?
We spent one night together. One kiss. So what?
It was one kiss that Ive thought about it every day for the past two weeks,
unable to shake the way his lips felt pressed against mine.
I should be devastated by my broken engagement. When your maid of honor
confesses her affair with your fianc, it should crush you. Its supposed to crush
you, right?
3
ALBIE
T he door opens, and she steps inside, looking radiant even in the dim light that
shines from the overhead LED lighting in the passageway. The tunnels are an
artifact of the palace, a relic from a thousand years ago, crisscrossing underneath
the palace grounds and leading outside the gate. Theres a security guard posted at
the exit, of course, a necessary precaution but the tunnels were always my escape
to freedom, out from under the watchful eyes of my father.
That was when I was younger, of course. Now, I'm free to do what I want. My
father has given up on my being anything but exactly what I am.
The wayward crown prince.
The irresponsible prince.
The prince who lets his cock do all his thinking for him.
And my dick is definitely doing some thinking of its own, as I'm looking at Belle
right now, standing not more than a foot away from me in her simple shift dress,
an aqua blue the color of the ocean in the Mediterranean that makes her eyes look
even brighter than they are.
Isabella.
But she wasnt Isabella when she met me, half-drunk in Las Vegas. It was Belle
then.
Belle. The name rolls off my tongue.
You a-hole, she whispers, clearly angry. It makes me laugh.
Come again, darling? I ask. Oh, wait, no, there was no coming involved, was
there? We never consummated our marriage bed. There are lots of beds in the
palace, you know. Im happy to make that happen.
How kind, she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Is this totally a joke to you?
You didnt tell me you were a
An asshole? I ask.
She glares at me. I can see it even in the flickering light. She looks at me, her
dark eyes steeled, her jaw set. A prince, she says, her tone imperious. I gathered
that you were an asshole the night we met. That didn't exactly take a lot of
detective work."
And yet, you saw fit to spend the entire night with me, I say.
Temporary insanity, she says. Obviously, I was out of my mind. And there
was a lot of tequila involved, if I remember correctly. Plus, I was running away. But
you already know that.
"YES," I say. "Fortunately for you, you ran right into me."
She laughs, tucking a strand of hair behind her hear. "Yeah, Im a lucky girl,"
she says. "You could have mentioned the whole oh, I don't know -- glaring fact
that you're a freaking prince."
I shrug. "You never talked about your work."
"That's not even the same thing --" she says, her face upturned. She balls one
hand into a fist, obviously frustrated, and the fact that she's at the end of her rope
makes her endearing somehow. "I'm not a..."
"Princess?" I ask. "Well, you're going to be."
"Our parents are getting married," she says. "And we just got married. In Vegas.
You're a prince. Please tell me you understand there's a potential for huge scandal
here. Don't you take anything in life seriously?"
"I try to take all of my marriages seriously."
Her eyes widen. "There are more marriages?" I pause for a beat, and a look of
realization spreads across her face. "That's not even remotely funny."
"Don't worry," I say. "You're the only woman Ive married in Vegas."
"That's hilarious," she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "It was a drunken
The thought makes me hard as a rock, my cock pushing against the fabric of my
pants.
I lean in close to whisper against her ear. "I'm definitely not a gentleman," I
say, tracing my finger behind her ear and down the side of her neck. She tilts her
head slightly to the side, and her chest rises as she inhales deeply, the top of her
breasts exposed above the neckline of her dress. "Although I always let a lady come
first."
Belle makes a strangled sound, and reaches up, pushing my hand away from her.
Theres going to be no coming involved.
Are you saying youre not a lady? I tease.
She narrows her eyes as she looks at me, anger replacing her arousal. Did you
know who I was when you met me? You had to know who I was.
Are you insane? I ask. I bumped into you in Vegas. Does that sound planned
to you?
Theres no way this was a coincidence these kinds of things dont happen in
real life. My mother had to have shown you photos, told you who I was.
She did show us a few photos, but no offense, luv, I didnt really give a shit
about what my new stepsister looked like, I say.
Obviously, if I had realized how hot Belle was going to be, Id have paid
significantly more attention. I didn't even know she was going to be in Vegas or
that I was going to be in Vegas. It was an impromptu week of debauchery with my
friends. I'd tired of Europe, and what better place for debauchery with American
women than Las Vegas? I had no idea who she was when I met her it wasn't until
we signed the wedding paperwork that I recognized her last name. And by then,
well, I was too drunk to care.
How did you know I was in Africa? she asks.
I shrug, the gesture more nonchalant than I feel. So what if I did a little research
on her after the Vegas trip? Its not every day that a girl I spend all night just
talking to and marry, no less ditches me and runs off without so much as a see
you later.
I found out that Belle had been off the radar for two years, doing some charity
work in Africa. Shed only been back in the United States for a few days before the
infamous Vegas trip. And I found out that she was Sofia Kensingtons daughter.
Do you really think Im not going to check out the background of a girl I
married? I ask, holding up my hand to stop her from interrupting. I found out
who you were after the fact.
But you knew who I was before this announcement today, she says, a look of
horror coming over her face. You knew that I was your new
Stepsister? I ask.
Oh my God, she says, her hand covering her mouth. Im totally going to
vomit.
Theres no need to be so dramatic, I say.
You think Im being dramatic? she asks, her voice going up an octave. I got
whisked away on a private jet, taken to a palace, and told that my mother is going
to marry a king. And that the hot guy I spent a night hanging out with in Vegas
and married, by the way is my new stepbrother.
Hot guy? I ask.
What? she asks, looking at me blankly, her hands on her hips.
You just said I was hot.
She looks taken aback. I totally did not.
Uh, I beg to differ, I say.
Youre completely delusional if you think I said you were hot, she protests.
Youre hearing things.
I know what I heard, I tell her. If you like, Ill get the security footage and
play it back to show you. You called me a hot guy. You should just admit it.
Her eyes go wide. There are cameras on us in here?
Lighten up, luv, I say, rolling my eyes. I think youre the most tightly wound
woman Ive ever met in my life. I was kidding. There are no cameras. My father has
a thing about us not being watched the only cameras in this place are in the
public rooms."
Dont do that, she says, shaking her head.
Dont joke? I ask. Youre going to have to get a sense of humor if youre
going to make it in a palace, luv.
That, she says. Dont call me luv, she says. Just because we spent a night
doing tequila shots in Vegas doesnt mean you get to do that. You dont get to give
me pet names.
Luv, I say, drawing the word out more slowly, my voice more gravely than Id
like, the arousal in my tone more evident than it should be. Luv. I like how it just
rolls off the tongue. Youre going to beg me to call you luv.
I can promise you that Im never going to beg you to call me anything.
And I can promise you that Im not going to let you come until you ask me to
call you luv. Politely, too. Like a lady.
Youre a real piece of work, she says, shaking her head. But at least shes
smiling. Do you get slapped a lot?
Is that what youre into? I ask, looking her over. I could have guessed that
youd be into some kinky shit.
Oh my God, I am not into any kinky shit, she says.
I dont believe you, luv, I say. Its always the nice-looking ones, the most
straight-laced, prim-and-proper ones, who are the wildest in the sack. Although
that might not be true in this case. Little Miss Do-Gooder seems to have quite the
stick up her ass.
Well, youre never going to find out, she says, crossing her arms over her
chest as she shakes her head. She looks at me, her nose wrinkling like shes
smelling something bad. Do women fall for this whole Casanova act?
Works like a charm, I say. I dont have to do much actual work to get women
to take off their panties. Its one of the benefits of being royalty.
What catastrophe are you referring to, exactly? I ask. The one where are
parents are getting married, sis?
Do not speak that word again, she says.
Sis? I ask. But were going to be related now. Would you prefer that I call you
wife?
Both of those words are off-limits.
Theres a giant list of things that are off-limits with you, arent there? I ask.
Has anyone told you that lifes a lot more fun if you loosen up a little bit?
Youre loose enough for both of us.
Thats a terrible thing to say to your husband.
Stop calling yourself that, she says. Its a fake marriage. We were
intoxicated. How could they marry us? I dont think its even legal to get married
while drunk.
I shrug. Youd be surprised what a little extra cash will do.
You bribed a wedding chapel? she asks, disbelief evident in her voice. Why in
the world would you do that?
Why, indeed?
Whats that saying -- when in Rome? I ask. When in Vegas. I figured Id
never have the opportunity to get married by Elvis again.
Its not legal, she says. It was a dare. A joke. It should be easy enough to
annul.
Im sure you have someone you can trust to do that. Someone who wont leak it
to the press, I point out.
No, I She stops. Of course I dont. Ive been in Africa for the past two years.
I was only in Vegas for a few days before well, all of this with you. You have to get
it annulled.
No, I say. The word escapes my lips before Im even sure of what Im saying,
before Ive had a chance to think it through. But as soon as I speak it, Im certain. I
dont think I will, actually.
What do you mean, you dont think you will? she asks, her voice rising again,
the way it did when she first saw me.
I shrug. I dont think I feel like it right now, I say. Maybe I will later, if you
ask politely.
I just asked nicely, she says, through clenched teeth. Youre really not going
to get it annulled?
Come on, luv, I say, not bothering to hide my grin. Isnt it more fun this
way?
I dont wait for her response before I press on the electronic keypad that opens
the door to the passageway. I think I hear her protest, but I dont wait for her
response.
Im whistling as I walk down the hallway, my footsteps on the plush carpeting
suddenly light as air. Id only come back to the palace because my term of service in
the Royal Protrovian Army was up, and my father had a heart scare that turned out
to be an ulcer, not a heart attack. And because he wanted me to get to know his
future wife Sofia Kensington.
Even in the military, I was treated with kid gloves, as the son of the king. So Im
enjoying the fact that Little Miss Do-Gooder isnt taking any shit. She gives back as
good as I dish out.
Maybe coming back to the palace wont be as damn boring as I anticipated.
4
BELLE
T hat dickhead.
bed with someone else. You'll smile and look beautiful because it's what you do."
"I'm not a teenager," I protest. "I'm twenty-three. And, despite what you might
think, this isn't the eighteen hundreds and you can't force me into a marriage. I'm
not doing it."
"Well discuss it later, she says, waving her perfectly manicured hand
dismissively. There are more important matters at hand right now.
Like the fact that youre marrying a King, I say sarcastically. Obviously, thats
her most important concern here.
She raises her eyebrows and gives me a disapproving look. Yes, Isabella, she
says. Were talking about making history. I know that you dont seem to have an
appreciation for rules and tradition and God knows, I tried to instill that in you
Youre from the United States, I say. Youre not even a native of Protrovia.
You arent connected to their history or tradition.
We are making history, she says. Do you understand that? The Kensingtons
your family your fathers name, God rest his soul. We are making history. Years
ago, the idea of the King of Protrovia remarrying to a foreigner, no less would
have been unacceptable. It would have been appalling. But today, its different. And
we are a part of that. Do you not see the importance of this?
I shake my head. I dont want to be a part of this, I say, feeling strangely
detached from the entire thing. Im going back to the States, mother. Coming
here was a mistake.
Of course, Im already a part of this, I think. Im married to the Crown Prince.
I force the thought out of my head. Its inappropriate. And something Ill just
have to rectify before anyone finds out. The last thing I want is to become part of a
public scandal, my life spread out before the world like an open book.
Its very important to me that youre here for the summer, she says, her tone
calm. But its clear that its not a request.
Well, she cant tell me what to do. Im not a child anymore.
I cant stay here, I say.
The last thing you want is a public scandal, she says. I know how much you
despise being the center of attention.
Why would anything be a scandal? I ask, trying my best to keep my voice calm
despite the guilt that surges through me at the thought of the secret I share with
Albie.
Staying for the summer, getting to know the king and your new family, is what
people expect, Isabella, she says. Any behavior different from that is going to
raise red flags. It will cause more media attention than I know youd like to have on
you. Reporters will track you down wherever you go in the States. The wedding will
be the media event of the year. Here, in the palace in Protrovia we can protect
you. There is a whole PR team dedicated to managing the publicity. There are
bodyguards, security. The entire thing will be controlled. Everything will be
handled.
I dont know, I say, shaking my head.
Im disappointed, Isabella, she says. Id hoped youd realize the potential for
all the good you could do in Protrovia.
What do you mean?
Sofia sighs heavily. Youve always missed the forest for the trees, she says.
You think that being in the thick of things, administering shots to children and
wiping sweaty foreheads, is noble. Its far more noble to be the person that
provides funding for other people to do those things.
And thats your goal, being Queen of Protrovia? I dont bother to hide the
doubt in my voice. My mother has been involved with charity for years, but Im not
sure the power isnt the most alluring part of all of this for her.
Think of all that you could do as a princess, Isabella, she says. Ive already
set up work for you with refugees, with childrens organizations. Youll have a
virtually unlimited budget at your disposal compared to what you had in Africa.
Think of what you can do. Think of the children who need your help.
I have to think about it, I say, already feeling like the most selfish person on
earth. My mother is offering me the chance to do a world of good, and Im actually
considering not taking it, just because I dont want to spend the summer in the
castle with my new stepbrother, who just happens to be the hottest thing Ive ever
seen.
I know youll make the right decision, she says, smiling at me. Take some
time. Youre jet-lagged. Im sure youre tired. Relax, and gather your wits. Then you
can tell me when youve made the right choice.
Its less of a suggestion than it is an order. That much is clear.
5
ALBIE
Hey, Cinderella. I whisper the words, even though were the only two people in
the hallway. A housekeeper at the end of the hall runs a feather duster along
the window, and a member of the security team walks with purpose. When she sees
us, the housekeeper quickly darts around the corner and out of the way.
Its silly, really, all of the pomp and circumstance that goes along with living in
this place. It always made me uncomfortable, even when I was a kid.
Belle whirls around and glares at me. Are you following me?
Whoa, whoa, luv. I put my hands up in mock surrender. Dont get your
panties in a bunch. You do wear panties, dont you? I picture a thong. Unless you go
commando. That would be more fun, as well as convenient.
She looks at me with wide eyes. My panties are none of your business.
Im right about the thongs, though, arent I?
She ignores me, which is probably for the best, because that means I can use my
imagination when it comes to what shes wearing under those jeans. Seriously,
she says. Are you following me? How do I keep running into you? Isnt this a giant
palace?
Its three hundred rooms, I say. Three hundred and twelve. Give or take,
really. Some rooms are under renovation, and some are considered public areas for
tours and things. Ill give you a tour, if you like. The very private, very special tour.
That was a rhetorical question, she says. Stop stalking me.
Youre full of yourself, I say, standing close to her. She doesnt move, doesnt
step back an inch, and Im so close that I can smell the faintest hint of fragrance on
her skin something soft, lightly floral lotion, not perfume. Id rather you be
full of me.
She wrinkles her nose, an expression of distaste that should be annoying, but
just makes me hard instead. Apparently, I find her distaste attractive.
Youre crude for a prince, she says.
Youve said that already.
Obviously, nothings changed.
I hope not," I say. "Persistence is one of my strongest qualities.
A small smile breaks through her face, and she shakes her head. So, what, you
just wear women down? she asks. Id think someone royal like yourself wouldnt
need to resort to doing that.
Not normally, I say. But youre a special case.
This time, she laughs. Because I find you irritating?
I put my hand over my chest. Im hurt, Belle, I say. Truly. But I dont believe
you.
You dont believe that I find you obnoxious? she asks. Because I can assure
you, I really do. Even more so now.
Just because our parents are getting married? I ask. You didnt find me
irritating in Las Vegas.
Tequila has a way of making anyone entertaining, she says. And anyway, I
hardly remember it. Its all a blur.
Is it? I ask. The way she says it, her voice hesitating slightly, makes me
doubtful. Even through the haze of the alcohol, its hardly a blur in my head.
TRUTH OR DARE, she says, sinking back against the leather of the limo seat. Her hair
spills down over her shoulders, a cascade of brown thats so silky I want to reach
out and touch it. Or never have I ever. Yes. Thats it. I know nothing about you,
and Im sitting in your limo driving around Vegas. Its insane.
Never have I ever, I say. Youre going to lose this one, luv. Theres a lot of
things youve never done. I can tell.
She rolls her eyes. Yeah, right. Because youre so worldly, she says
sarcastically. Never have I ever driven around Vegas with a total stranger.
Thats not how you play, I say, my eyes lingering on her expression, her lips
parted just slightly. The thin strap of her dress is hanging halfway off her shoulder,
and I want to pull it the rest of the way down, but I dont. Shes drunk. No matter
how fucking hot she is, that makes her off-limits. Even so, I cant help teasing her
a little bit. Never have I ever been so wet in the back of a limo, driving around
Vegas with a total stranger.
She looks at me for a long time, and her lips fall open farther. She raises her
eyebrows like shes appalled, but flicks her tongue over her lower lip, and I know
without a doubt that if I were to reach between her legs, Id find shes just as wet as
I think she is. But I dont. Thats not how you play, either, she says. And,
besides, its not true.
Liar.
THE ENTIRE THING is completely a blur, she says. But her voice wavers.
Liar. I whisper the word, close to her ear, watching as goose bumps dot her
skin on her arms in response to warmth of my breath. You remember
everything.
I pull away from her, just far enough to see a flush rise to her cheeks, pink
coloring along her cheekbones that makes me wonder how she looks after orgasm,
whether that flush deepens and she gets a dewy glow like she has right now.
I cant help but feel smugly satisfied at the way I bring that flush to her cheeks.
Then she steels her jaw and looks at me. Barely, she says.
Barely. That means definitely.
I could help you remember, I say.
Thanks for the offer, she says. But Im busy. And besides, youre a prince,
after all. Dont you have better things to do? Im sure theres a damsel in distress
somewhere who needs rescuing.
Youre wandering these halls like youre the one who needs rescuing.
She chokes back a laugh, but theres no joy in it. Unless you have the ability to
produce my passport, you cant help me.
Your passport? Are you leaving? I cant help but be annoyed at the possibility
of her leaving when shes gotten here. Can I help it if Im intrigued by the thought
of spending the summer getting under this girls skin?
Belle shrugs. Maybe, she says. I dont know. But I cant find it. And at the
very least, I want to make sure I have it.
You have someplace better to be for the summer?
Something thats better than being paraded around like some kind of trophy in
media interviews and whatever else Im supposed to do as the child of the new
Queen of Protrovia? she asks.
How about getting to know your new family? I ask. Getting to know my
father? Or Protrovia. Its not such a bad place. You might find theres a lot to like
about our country.
Her face softens. Im not trying to be ungrateful, she says. Its just that
everything has happened so fast. And you already knew about the engagement. I
was the only one in that room that had the news sprung on her.
Well, it was a surprise to me when I got back from Afghanistan, I say. I
havent been back here that long, you know. The Vegas trip was to blow off steam
with my friends, American-style.
You were in Afghanistan? she asks.
In the military, I say. The Royal Protrovian Army.
She studies my face for a moment. I didnt know they sent people like you to
Afghanistan, she says.
People like me? I ask, laughing.
That is not the way I meant it, she says, and her face colors, the flush on her
cheeks deepening to an entirely different shade of red.
Oh? I ask. So you meant it in a non-condescending, non-pejorative way,
then.
I meant royal, she says. You know thats what I meant. You just like giving
me grief.
Thats not all Id like to give her. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I
dont speak them. Not getting laid for over two weeks since I was in Vegas has me
so horny I can hardly focus. Thats the problem. Thats why Im standing here with
a rock-hard cock, in front of this girl who looks at me, her face upturned, eyes
telegraphing her irritation with me.
Ill admit that giving you grief, as you so elegantly put it, does hold a certain
appeal, I say, being deliberately patronizing.
Sorry that Im not as elegant as you are, she says, rolling her eyes.
Theres an American embassy in Protrovia, I say. You can get a new passport,
if you need to.
Attempting to get rid of me now? she asks. Youre not going to try to
convince me to stay?
Youre a grown woman, I say. If you dont want to stick around for the
fireworks this summer, Im sure you have better things to do with your time.
The fireworks? she asks, as I turn to leave. You mean, all the drama with the
wedding?
I wasnt referring to the wedding.
Sure, I say. That, too.
I watch as that same flush rises to her cheeks again.
I turn, leaving her standing in the hallway, whistling as I walk away.
If Belle stays for the summer, fireworks are definitely on the agenda.
6
BELLE
one of the family residences in the palace a huge suite the size of an apartment,
with a ridiculous walk-in closet, filled with designer clothes and shoes that are all
my size. It's everything you'd expect from a palace opulent beyond belief, antique
furniture and wine-colored fabrics and gold-gilded accessories.
I slept like the dead last night, longer than Ive slept in years. And Ive spent all
day holed up in my room, doing my best to pretend none of this is actually
happening.
Ive avoided everything on the agenda today.
There is literally an agenda an actual program, like youd get at a wedding or a
graduation. Its printed on delicate cream-colored paper and embossed with the
royal crest in the background.
I wonder if they do this every day, whether if they pass out an itinerary, a
schedule of events to be adhered to, expectations to be met.
Its completely and utterly ridiculous.
This entire thing is ludicrous.
Im not a princess, not even close. Sure, Im a Kensington my family's name is
recognizable in certain circles but I'm nowhere near being royalty.
My father was the child of Polish immigrants who changed their family name
from Kedzierski to Kensington when they arrived in America. Oliver Kensington
started working when he was eight, a shoeshine business on a New York sidewalk
before going to school in the mornings. He made his first million dollars before he
was twenty. By then, it was real estate, not shoe shining.
My mother was his high school sweetheart. When I was a kid, I remember them
having late night candlelit dinners every Friday night in our living room.
Sometimes it would be after an event charity or business something-or-other -and sometimes there was no event at all. I'd sneak out of my room and hide around
the corner, watching them as they held hands and my mother giggled like a
schoolgirl, talking to him.
"You get one great love in life, kiddo," he told me once. "If you're lucky. So you
have to make it count. Remember that."
IT ONLY MADE him more popular with the press. But not with his father, apparently.
The next major magazine articles, two months later, announced that Albie would be
doing his royal duty and serving in the army.
The royal dick
I refrained from searching for the uncensored versions of the photos, even
though even now the thought sends a surge of heat flowing through my body thats
so intense it nearly takes my breath away.
I blame my stupid, traitorous body for thinking Albie is hot. Because more
importantly, he's a pretentious, arrogant dickhead.
If you dont want to stick around for the fireworks this summer
I cant stick around here for the summer, pretending to be a princess.
I dont want to stick around here for the summer. Not under the same roof as
Albie.
That night in Vegas, when we were driving around in the limo, Albie didnt touch
me. Not once.
He didnt have to. The things that came out of his mouth just like the things
he said to me in the hallway yesterday were enough to leave me practically
writhing.
I told myself it was because I hadnt been with anyone but Derek twice in the
past two years, during visits at Christmas. Not even when I saw Derek when I came
home from Africa, right before the Vegas trip.
I should have known things were over when I saw him. A reasonable person
would have realized it -- in retrospect, it seems obvious. He said he was too
stressed out because of a big case at the firm.
So its been a while.
Its been forever.
I told myself that was why I was practically crawling out of my skin when I was
sitting in the back of that limo with Albie. And when he kissed me
You may kiss this hunk-a, Fake Elvis voice seems to fade into the
background as I look at Albie, trying to stifle my giggle.
Albie steps close to me, and I breathe in sharply at his proximity. Even through
my tequila haze, Ive never seen any man more beautiful than this one. It was just
a dare, I say, my voice soft. We dont have to
He cuts me off before I can speak another word, his arm sliding across my lower
back and drawing me to him in one swift, hard movement. When he brings his
mouth down on mine, the world stops. Everything in the universe pauses.
Ive never been kissed the way he kisses me. He kisses me with an intensity that
takes my breath away, his tongue finding mine hungrily, and I melt against him.
Its the kind of kiss that demands more.
Its the kind of kiss that demands everything.
I think I let out a moan that is completely inappropriate for a wedding chapel,
even one in Vegas with an Elvis impersonator. The fact that Im so swept away by
Albie sends a pang of fear through me, and I break away. I look at him, my fingers
touching my lips, still swollen from his kiss.
Just a dare, I repeat.
But the way my hands tremble, the way this kiss has shaken me to my core, says
its not as simple as just a dare.
I shake off the memory. I try to shake off the feeling it leaves with me, the goose
bumps that dot my arms at the thought of his lips pressed against mine, his tongue
finding my tongue. I try to forget the thrill that rushed through me at his touch.
He was deceptive. He could have told me he was a prince.
Hes a playboy.
Hes definitely no good.
And hes my new stepbrother. That fact alone makes him off-limits.
I can still feel his lips against mine. How fucked up is that?
Its even more reason for me to leave.
The knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts and I jump, immediately
feeling guilty for sitting here thinking of Albie the way Ive been thinking about
him. I clear my throat. Yes?
I swear to all that is holy, if its Albie at the door, Ill kill him. He seems to have a
way of turning up at the most inopportune times, and an uncanny knack for being
able to read my thoughts.
And the thoughts Ive been having about him are certainly not ones I want read.
Are you going to hide out in here all summer, or what? Alexandra stands just
inside the doorway, her hand on her hip, glaring at me. Shes still dressed in her tshirt and jeans, and she twirls a piece of jet-black hair, laced with colored strands
pink and lime green around her fingers as she surveys me.
I was thinking that might be nice, I say. At least until I find my passport.
Youre going to leave? she asks. She sounds simultaneously accusing and
disappointed, and I dont know what to make of her. Im not sure if she wants to be
friends with me, or if she hates me on sight.
I cross the room to sit on the bed. You can come inside, you know, I say. If
you want, I mean.
Walking inside the room, she looks around. I havent been in here in a while,
she says. I forgot how stuffy these guest residences are. Youre not the stuffy type,
the kind of girl that goes for all of this.
Thanks, I say. I think its a compliment, although Im not quite sure about
her, especially considering her reaction to my broken engagement earlier. To
describe her reaction as gleeful would be an understatement.
She has her back turned to me, looking at one of the paintings on the wall. All
this shit, she says. You know this painting is worth like a million dollars. Its
practically a museum in here. You should definitely redo it, if you stay.
A million dollars. Im afraid to touch anything.
Alexandra turns around, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and I notice a
lip piercing I didnt see before. Maybe she takes it out for special events -- like
engagement announcements sprung on her new stepsister. Im sorry I was a bitch
before, she says, her tone matter-of-fact. About you not getting married, I
mean.
I shrug. Its pretty scandalous, I guess.
Im usually the one disappointing my father, she says. It was nice to not be
the center of a scandal, for once. That sounds terribly selfish, Im sure.
I can understand not wanting to be the center of gossip. It must be hard being
in the spotlight all the time.
She cocks her head when she looks at me. Its about to be your turn, you
know, she says. Your whole life is going to be torn apart.
Her words send a pang of anxiety rushing through me. Did you just come here
to make me feel worse?
Shame flickers in her eyes, and she glances down at the ground. I didnt, she
says. Shit. I mean, sorry. Sometimes I Im too blunt.
Her phone buzzes, and she slides her thumb across the screen, a look of relief
crossing her face. I have to go, she says, not looking at me as she walks away.
I watch the door close behind her, filled with a sense of dread.
Your whole life is going to be torn apart.
7
ALBIE
I ts not a formal event. Its only dinner with the family. I can dress myself, Ben,
thank you, I say, not bothering to even try to hide the edge in my voice. A
flicker of embarrassment crosses the valets face, and I feel badly. Im sorry. I
didnt sleep well last night.
He nods. I can have Doctor Evanston called, if you like, Your Highness, he
says.
No, I say, quickly. Too quickly. Its nothing. Its fine, I mean. Its not
nothing. I havent slept well all week, not since I got back from the States.
As you wish, Your Highness, he says, retreating toward the door.
Ben? I ask. Were you able to find Miss Kensingtons misplaced passport?
Not yet, Your Highness, he says. But, rest assured, I will find it.
The idea of having Belle Kensington around the palace all summer might be
entertaining, but if she really wants to go back to the States, she should.
I wonder if shell even be at dinner. Its casual tonight, according to the agenda
which really means that its black tie and not full dinner dress. For me, dinner
dress would mean military dress with full regalia. This is the dinner engagement
announcement to my cousins and aunts and uncles, a small family gathering before
the more public events get underway.
I walk down the hallway in the direction of one of the dining rooms, an informal
one, not the formal ones used for the larger dinners.
Alb, wait, Alex calls, and before I can react, shes slamming into me, swinging
her arm around my shoulder.
God, youre a pain in the ass, I joke, as she leans into me. What are you
doing? Are you coming to dinner?
Yah, she says, snapping her gum loudly in my ear. Why are you dressing up
for this bullshit, anyway?
Because Im a responsible member of society, I say, grinning. And a
respectable member of the royal family.
Alex wrinkles her nose at me. Youve never been responsible, you lying liar,
she says. Dont even try to scam me I know the Army didnt change you that
much. And seriously, what is with the tux? You cant make me the only rebel. Who
She stops talking when I reach her, and I hear her inhale deeply, the sound
sharp in the stillness of the room. Her breasts rise underneath her palms, and I
think about covering my hands with hers and simply moving them, causing her
dress to fall to the ground in a pool at her feet.
I could do it. It would be so easy.
And the way shes looking at me right now, her eyes big and her pupils dilated,
makes me think she would let me do exactly that.
Some kind of what? I ask, my voice soft. She looks up at me with her lips
slightly parted, and a sheen of gloss on them. Even though its simple, the effect is
somehow the most seductive thing Ive ever seen. A rule against a prince
welcoming his new st
Do not say it, she whispers. Ill slap you.
I look down at her hands. Please do, I say. But use both hands. Id like to see
that dress on the floor.
Belle blushes. You have to leave.
Or what, luv? I ask. Are you that afraid of being in the same room alone with
me? Relax. Im harmless.
She laughs. Said the lion to the mouse.
Isnt there a story about a lion and a mouse? One where theyre friends?
She narrows her eyes at me. Its probably more like the fox in the henhouse,
she says. I did some reading about you.
Mmm, I murmur, not sure whether to be irritated or flattered that shes
reading about my exploits tabloid sensationalism, no doubt. Quickly, before she
can protest, I reach around her waist and spin her so that her back is to me. Her
dress falls open, revealing an expanse of bare creamy skin.
Shit, shes not even wearing a bra. I wonder what else shes not wearing under
that little black dress of hers. The thought sends a rush of blood to my cock, which
tents the fabric of my pants.
Fuck. This girl is going to unravel me.
And? I ask, clearing my throat to cover the arousal I think must be evident in
my tone. I reach for the zipper at the base of her dress, my hand resting lightly on
the small of her back, the apex of the curve of her ass. She doesnt move. She
doesnt step forward or protest the way I linger there.
Maybe shes not aware that Im contemplating flattening my palm, running it
over the curve of her ass and down her thighs, yanking up that skirt of hers.
What did you learn about me from all your research? I ask.
Youre a playboy, she says.
Boring, I whisper, pulling on her zipper, my other hand on the top of the
fabric, guiding the zipper up, up, up her back. You already knew that.
My fingertips graze her back on the way, and she shivers visibly at my touch, her
head lolling to the side. I pull the zipper farther, my lips close to her ear.
I blow lightly on her neck, scattering a few errant hairs that have come astray
from her updo. She squirms at the sensation. What sordid secrets of mine did you
8
BELLE
I am so wet.
IM SO PLEASED that you decided to join us, Isabella. My mother raises her glass of
wine to her lips. Her chilly tune conveys the exact opposite of her words, and the
look she gives me is just as frosty as her voice.
Shes pissed off that Im late for dinner.
Im afraid the reason Im late is written all over my face, that my guilt is
immediately evident. Even as I slide into my seat at the table, I cant get the
thought of Albie as I imagined him naked, throbbing, irresistible out of my
head.
That fact sends heat to my face, and I know Im blushing.
I glance at Albie, and immediately regret it. Evidently, he finds my current state
amusing.
Yes, Albie says, I was afraid youd gotten lost, that wed have to send a
I would love to hear about Africa sometime, Isabella, the King says, his voice
warm. Theres an aid organization from Protrovia that you might have worked
with. From what your mother has told me, I believe they may have been in the
same region you were.
You were in Africa? The Kings mother sniffs. Isnt that rather dangerous?
Actually, I I start, before my mother interrupts.
His Royal Highness tells me youre spending the fall semester in Paris, my
mother says, directing her attention to Lily.
Lily rolls her eyes. I guess, she says. Semester abroad and all that. Im
supposed to expand my horizons. Its not like I havent been to Paris a million
times before.
The triplets sound bored with everything bored with this dinner, bored with
the company, bored with their wealth, bored with their lives. Theyre every kid of
every socialite parent I attended high school with in Manhattan.
Im going to New York, Violet interrupts, leaning forward. Back to design
school.
I dont know what youre going to do with fashion design, the kings mother
says. In my day, women of means learned certain things. These art degrees and
By your day, I assume you mean the eighteen hundreds. Violet snickers into
her napkin.
Dont get uppity, Albies grandmother scolds. New York City is no place for
someone of your stature.
Oh, I dont know, Lady Margaret, my mother says, her tone frosty. It was
good enough for a future queen, so Im sure Violets American education will be
more than sufficient.
The King clears his throat. Ive heard that youve also done very well in school,
Rose.
Thank you, Your Royal Highness, Rose sniffs, glaring at her sister.
I dont approve of all this traipsing about, Lady Margaret says. Running off
to New York City. Or, worse, can you imagine? Charity work in Africa? Actually
milling about withthose people?
Irritation courses through me, as the table goes quiet, no one speaking. When I
open my mouth, I speak with an edge that surprises even me. By those people, Im
sure you must be referring to the children who dont have adequate medical care or
potable drinking water?
Isabella, my mother says, her gaze penetrating. Perhaps well save this
conversation for another time, since its not the appropriate place.
King Leopold clears his throat. Mother, Im sure youll appreciate the fact that
Isabella was working with a medical non-profit organization, he says. I recall you
traveling around Europe to visit hospitals during the war.
Yeah, in World War I, Rose snickers, and her sister covers her mouth as she
giggles.
Hush your mouth, Lady Margaret snaps. Im old, not deaf. And it was the
9
ALBIE
B elle excused herself from dinner early, feigning a headache and jet lag, obviously
lying her sweet little ass off and trying to avoid a personal tour of the palace by
yours truly.
Ill give credit where credit is due she made it nearly ninety minutes in the
middle of the cousins and my grandmother Margaret, whos still mentally stuck
someplace around the turn of the century.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I slide open the screen to reveal a message.
You cant keep avoiding me, Albie. I gave you enough time to play around after
you got back. Call me.
IM about to text back reflexively, a message to tell Erika to go fuck herself, just like
the two other times Id told her before. Erika is an ex-girlfriend, a friend of the
family and a reminder that several years ago, for a couple of months, I was stupid
enough to actually try out the whole having-a-relationship bullshit. The only
reason Erika was with me was because of my position, the proximity to the throne.
Instead, I hit the delete button, and block her number.
I need to get laid, but not by Erika.
And not by Belle either, not if I know whats good for me.
Of course, when have I ever done whats good for me?
Im in the middle of texting a friend whos always up for a night of partying and
hitting on women, when she knocks on the door.
I know its her by the knock. Its tentative and hesitating, not like Ben the valet
or my sister Alex, who would already be in the middle of yelling, Albie, you
disgusting pig, open up! before she even finished knocking.
No, its definitely Belle.
So thats why I dont bother to put on a shirt.
I pull open the door and revel in the fact that her eyes immediately focus on my
chest. And I try to hide my smile as she unsuccessfully attempts to look anywhere
else.
Can I help you? I ask.
I um can come back later, she says. Youre obviously in the middle of
getting changed.
Id could make you come now, I whisper, leaning forward conspiratorially.
I stopped by because I wanted to tell you that Im not interested, she says,
tucking her hair behind her ear.
Oh? I ask, leaning against the frame of the door. Youre not interested in
what, exactly, luv?
In a tour of the palace, she says. In case you were getting any ideas.
Oh, I have lots of ideas.
Not those kinds of ideas, she whispers, her hushed tone making her words
sound illicit.
Dont act all shy now, I say, my voice low. We both know why you were late
for dinner.
I dont know what youre talking about, she says, her jaw clenched. But her
eyes are wide, and she takes in a short breath. The thought of her reaching between
her legs and touching herself, being wet because of me, is enough to make my
damn cock explode.
So you werent late because you were busy thinking about my cock inside you?
I ask.
She laughs, but its forced. Maybe thats the only thing other women can think
about when theyre around you, but not me, she says. Anyway, I came here
because I wanted to ask about getting to the embassy to get a new passport.
Sure thats the only reason you came here? I ask. The way shes looking at me,
the way her eyes drop down to my chest, makes me wonder why the hell shes even
keeping up the pretense of not being attracted to me, when we both know it's not
true.
Thats the only reason, she says. "I'm quite positive."
My eyes are up here, luv, I tease.
Im not even looking anywhere else, she protests, her face coloring. And you
shouldput on a shirt or something. Why are you answering your door like that,
anyway?
Well, if Id have known it was you at the door, Id have answered without any
pants, I tell her.
"That would have only been embarrassing for you," she says. "It's quite chilly in
here, with the air conditioning, you know."
"Don't worry, luv," I say. "The royal scepter has no issue with shrinkage."
Her eyes go wider and she shakes her head. "Did you seriously just refer to your
dick as the royal scepter?"
I don't bother to hide my grin. Little Miss Do-Gooder acts like she's offended,
but she totally wants me. "Do you want to touch the royal staff?" I ask. "Give the
crown jewels a little polish?"
She wrinkles her face up in disgust. "Ugh. Anyone ever tell you that you have a
twelve-year-old boys sense of humor?"
"Usually I'm accused of having the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old boy.
So I'll take the sense of humor bit as a compliment."
"You would," she says. "And for the record, I came here on business. Not to talk
about your little Prince Albert."
"Oh, there's nothing little about it, luv," I say, reaching for the button on my
pants. "Here. Take a look."
She puts her hand up. "Oh my God. Seriously. Are you that hard up for female
attention?" she asks. "We're right in the middle of your doorway, in case you've
forgotten."
"You're going to need to find your sense of humor," I say. "I think you might
have forgotten it somewhere in Vegas."
Her face colors. "I have a sense of humor," she says. "Just notyour kind of
humor."
"Joking about my cock isn't your style?" I ask. "Well, I'm glad you take my dick
seriously."
Belle rolls her eyes. "You're so not my style."
"Well, I've got news for you, luv," I say. "Girls like you aren't my style, either."
That part is definitely true. No matter how fucking hot this chick is, uptight women
aren't exactly my type.
Then why do you keep hitting on me? she hisses.
Im just having a little fun, thats all. If I were hitting on you, youd know it.
Trust me.
Oh yeah? she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement has the
effect of pressing her breasts together, putting her cleavage so directly in my line of
sight that I cant possibly look away. I cant decide if shes doing it naively or if she
wants to get a rise out of me. In a literal sense.
Like I said, youll beg me to hit on you.
Belle rolls her eyes. Ill do no such thing, she says. Just because we had one
kiss doesnt mean that anything else is going to happen between us.
Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Belle, I say. But we both
know youre thinking about my lips on your lips.
She shrugs. It was no big deal, she says. Ive had better kisses.
I wasnt talking about those lips, I say, looking down.
Her eyes go wide again. We did not do anything like that, she protests.
We didnt, I say. That doesnt mean you havent been thinking about it. And
we both know youre lying about having had better kisses. I looked up your exfianc. I saw photos of him. He wasnt lighting your world on fire.
You have no idea what my kisses have been like, she protests. "Or my love
life. At least mine has been tame enough that I don't have to worry about any fires
down there."
"Is that your clumsy attempt to insinuate that I've got some type of VD, luv?" I
ask.
"I told you I looked you up," she says. "You have a revolving bedroom door.
That's what the magazines say."
I lean closer to her. "Don't worry, Belle," I whisper. "I'm clean as a whistle. You
could even have me bare, if you like."
"Oh my God," she says. "That is not what I was implying."
"Hey, you're the one who keeps bringing up my cock," I say, enjoying the
appalled look on her face.
"I am not bringing up your" Belle's voice drifts off, and she glances over her
shoulder and down the hallway. "Penis."
"Penis," I say, laughing. "That's sexy. You can say the word, luv. Cock. Admit
you can't stop thinking about it."
"I am not going to admit it," she says, groaning in frustration. "I can't even
remember why I came down here now. I should have known it was a mistake."
She whirls around before I can stop her, and flounces off in the direction of her
room.
10
BELLE
"T his is so bizarre, and yet so exactly a Kensington kind of story," Raine says, her
voice partially muffled on the phone as she turns to tell someone in the room
to "hold on a minute." Raine did a stint in Africa, volunteering with another aid
organization for six months while I was there. She's a free spirit, a hippie chick
traveling across Europe with her boyfriend and exactly the kind of outside
perspective I need on all of this.
"Wait, why is this a Kensington kind of story?"
"Seriously, isn't this right up your family's alley?"
"We're not royalty," I say, dropping my tone to a whisper. "It's insane."
"But you're like, a real fucking princess," she says. "Soon to be, anyway."
"Yeah, right," I say. "That's the last thing I want to be. And you cant tell
anyone, Raine. They havent made an announcement yet.
"Phoenix," she says, laughing as she calls for her boyfriend. "Belle is living in a
castle. Like, for real. With a king and shit."
"Shh," I say, cutting her off. "Seriously. That's not public knowledge. They're
probably listening to my phone calls or something. I don't even have my passport."
"They're keeping you prisoner?" she squeaks. "That's fucked up, Belle. You're
an American citizen."
"Relax," I say. "I think it just got misplaced or something when they unpacked
my bags, maybe. I have to go to the embassy and get a new one.
"Do you want Phoenix and I to come pick you up?" she asks. "We're in
Amsterdam for a few days. Protrovia wasn't exactly on our tour, but we're flexible."
"It's okay," I say. I can't even imagine the shitshow it would be if Raine and her
boyfriend showed up at the palace. I adore Raine, but the thought of her walking
inside the palace, reeking of patchouli and weed and admonishing the royal
household for their gratuitous wealth, is enough to make me giggle. "Maybe it's
good that I'm here for a little while. Derek has texted me about a million times."
"What?" she asks. "Screw that. Your ex-fianc cheated on you with your maid of
honor. You didn't respond, did you?"
"Of course not," I say. "I'm just saying that maybe it's good I'm not in the
States right now. Maybe I should be here for a little while."
As I speak the words, I start to realize I might actually be considering staying for
the summer.
"Protrovia," she says. "Isn't that the place Phoenix, who's that prince, the
one who's always in the news? Albert. Prince Albert. I remember his name because
of the whole dick-piercing thing. Is he gorgeous? Are they all ridiculous?"
I groan. I haven't breathed a word about Albie to anyone. Not a single soul
knows what happened in Vegas except Albie and I, and it's staying that way. "Yeah,
I mean, I haven't really seen him much. I just got here. And, yeah. It's all pretty
ridiculous."
"He's the prince with the pierced cock, you know," she says. "Have you ever
screwed a guy with a piercing? It's pretty fantastic." She pauses, then laughs and
whispers to her boyfriend. "Yes, Phoenix, I'm talking about you."
"No, I haven't done it with a guy with a pierced you-know-what." I sigh. I called
the one person I thought would have never heard of Prince Albert, and she knows
all about him and his pierced cock.
"Well, you should," she says. "In fact, hes what you should do while you're
there. Shake off the cobwebs. You need a fling. Rebound sex."
"I do not need rebound sex," I protest.
Raine's voice comes back muffled. "No, Phoenix, remember, I told you her
fianc cheated on her." She pauses, then returns to the phone. "You know how
Phoenix feels about marriage. And lawyers. He says good riddance to Derek."
"I can't believe you're telling me to hook up with a prince," I say.
"It's not like I'm telling you to marry him," she says. "Just have a good ol'
fashioned fling. Hasn't he slept with half the women in Europe, anyway?"
"He's my new stepbrother," I say. I fail to mention the part where I've already
married him.
"That makes it even more appropriate," she says, laughing. "Don't all the royals
marry their cousins and siblings? Hey, I have to go. We're having lunch with some
other people from the hostel. Are you going to be okay?"
"Yes, go," I reassure her. "I'm totally fine.
"Fling," she says, laughing as the background in her room is suddenly filled with
conversation. "Go have a fling. It'll be good for you. When is the last time you had
casual sex?"
The phone cuts off before I can answer. Never, I think. I've never ever had a
fling.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to start by screwing the biggest manwhore in
Europe.
"Knock knock."
I whirl around to see Albie pushing open the wall panel in my room. "Are you
kidding me with this popping-out-of-secret-passageways bullshit?" I ask. "You
have no right to push your way into my room like this. I should scream for
security."
Albie raises his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, luv," he says. "I come in
peace. And I knocked on the wall. Twice. You didn't hear me?"
"Barging into my room through the passageway? Yeah, that's totally peaceful.
And not at all completely creepy."
"I came in this way for a reason," he says, giving me an impish grin that
immediately grates on my nerves. He flashes that grin around like it gets him out of
everything. And the truth is, it probably does.
But not with me. Not even if the way he looks at me makes me want to drop my
panties right this second.
And youre going to head right back out the way you came in, I say, crossing
my arms over my chest and giving him my best glare.
I come bearing a gift, he says. Ben my valet found your passport. The
footman never unpacked it from your bag. He hands it to me, and I turn it over,
feeling simultaneously grateful and skeptical.
Why didnt he bring it to me? I ask.
Because I asked him to find it, and he mentioned he did, Albie says. Besides,
I know that last night you said no tours, but I came to change your mind. Im
offering you a private tour of Protrovia.
Yeah, right, I say. A private tour of your bedroom, you mean.
He raises his hands in mock surrender. I have no ulterior motive, he says. I
swear.
I raise an eyebrow at him. Somehow I doubt that.
Suit yourself, then, luv, he says. If youd rather have tea with my
grandmother and a bunch of her stuffy old friends this afternoon, then have at it.
Im sure theyll have lots of opinions about your charity work in Africa.
The thought of enduring tea with Albies grandmother makes my stomach
queasy. Youre ditching out on the afternoon agenda?
Obviously, he says. But if youd rather spend the afternoon with the old
ladies, be my guest. He turns to push the panel on the wall again. Have fun, luv.
Hang on, I say. Let me get my bag.
I knew youd see reason.
Its not reason, I say, stuffing my wallet into one of the designer purses from
my well-appointed closet. Youre just the lesser of two evils.
Ill take that as a compliment, Albie says, grinning. Im clearly growing on
you.
I stifle my laugh as I follow him into the passageway. Yeah, I say. Just like a
fungus.
Outside, Alexandra and two men in suits are waiting on a launch pad beside a
helicopter. I dont know if Im disappointed or relieved that Albie and I have
chaperones.
Relieved is probably the appropriate response, I tell myself. I should definitely
be relieved.
A helicopter, I yell over the roar of the rotors, unsuccessfully trying to restrain
my hair as it whips around my face in the wind. At least Im wearing my old jeans
and not one of the new dresses from my closet. Thank goodness for small mercies,
because that would be unfortunate. Im sure Albie would be delighted to witness me
having a Marilyn Monroe moment.
Nothing gets by you, Princess, Albie says. I told you Id give you a tour of
Protrovia.
Alexandra elbows Albie. None of your combat landing bullshit this time, either,
Alb, she yells.
Its not my fault you have a sensitive stomach, he says, laughing.
Sensitive, my ass, Alexandra yells. Youre such a prick. I dont know why I
even agreed to get in a helicopter with you again.
Because youd rather puke into a bag than spend an afternoon listening to your
grandmother lecture you about how inappropriate you hair color is?
Wait. Youre the one flying this thing? I ask.
What did you think I did in the army, luv? Albie yells. Youre not getting cold
feet, are you?
Never, I say.
Thats good to hear, he yells. If youre good, I might even refrain from doing
any tactical flight maneuvers.
Ive never actually been in a helicopter, but I dont tell Albie that. A few of my
high school friends had parents with private planes, so Ive been on those but a
helicopter is different. Were strapped in, our headsets on, while Albie runs a dozen
checks, fiddling with buttons and dials on the dashboard in the front. Beside me,
Alexandra flips through her phone nonchalantly, like she does this kind of thing
every day. Of course, she probably does.
The two suits with us are their personal bodyguards one each, for Albie and
Alexandra. Apparently, Ill get assigned a security detail soon enough if I stick
around, but since I only just arrived at the palace, Im in some kind of transitional
phase.
I wonder why the hell we needed to sneak around inside the palace, when the
bodyguards already knew where we were going. But I dont have time to think about
that before were up in the air and Im distracted by everything else.
Alexandra texts on her phone, hardly paying attention to the scenery below us,
but Im transfixed. Albie speaks into the microphone, giving me a history of
Protrovia as he flies over the city, pointing out particular buildings as he flies over
the capitol city.
Protrovia dates back to fifteen thirty-two, he says, as we veer left out of the
capitol. He gives us a brief history of the country, but I'm too distracted to listen,
transfixed with the view I have of the buildings below.
Albie is such a nerd, Alexandra says into her microphone. Hes like, obsessed
with our family history and shit.
I guess if the whole future-king thing doesnt work out, you can always get a
job as a tour guide, I say.
Its good to have options in life, Albie says.
We fly out over the countryside, and Albie still points out important places, but I
find it hard to pay attention to what hes saying, simply because the scenery is
breathtaking -- rolling fields the color of emeralds, dotted with cottages and
farmhouses. At some point in the flight, even Alexandra puts down her cell phone
and looks outside.
Im not sure how long were in the air, before Albie tells us were going to land.
This is the summer house, he says, as an estate, spread across acres of land,
comes into view.
Isnt it summer now? I ask.
Well be there in a few weeks, Alexandra says. Once the royal couple makes
their engagement announcement. The engagement party will be at the palace, and
then well retreat to the countryside. Fewer public appearances and all that. Way
more boring, too. I cant see her expression, but if I had to guess, shed be rolling
her eyes.
No sooner does the helicopter touch down on the pad then a red convertible
speeds up, driven by a guy in sunglasses I can tell is gorgeous even from where Im
sitting. Beside me, Alex scrambles out of her seatbelt. Tell dad Ill be back in a few
days, she yells at Albie.
Im not covering for you, shithead, he says.
One of the bodyguards mutters under his breath, Your sister, and curses into
his microphone before ripping it off his head. He follows Alex out of the helicopter,
and I see her arguing with him outside, flipping him the bird as she hops into a
convertible that pulls away.
So much for the summerhouse being boring, I guess.
11
ALBIE
M y sisters bodyguard, Max, darts down the drive. I know hes smart enough to
have a vehicle here on standby, one of the dark-tinted black SUVs the security
detail drives that are supposed to be inconspicuous but stick out anymore like a
sore thumb.
My bodyguard, Noah, shakes his head. Do you know where shes going, sir? he
asks.
He insists on calling me sir, despite the fact that hes been my security detail
forever. And despite the fact that Ive asked him a hundred times to call me by my
name. Noah knows more about me than anyone, and he also knows Im not about
to rat out my sister, even if shes off running around with a spoiled asshole like
Finn Asher.
Belle stands beside me, her hair tousled from the wind, looking sexy and
disheveled and basically confused as hell. Is everything okay? she asks.
I have no idea where shes headed, Noah, I lie, shrugging. Besides, Im sure
Max is on it.
As if on cue, the bodyguard peels past us in an SUV, kicking dust up behind his
wheels as he flies down the driveway after Alex and Finn.
Noah narrows his eyes as he looks at me. Yes, Im sure hes on it, sir.
Were going to tour the grounds, Noah, I say. Im sure we dont need an
escort.
He gives me a stern look before issuing a yes, sir in response, walking ahead
of us. The estate is fully staffed, with its own security detail.
You should go have a beer or something, Noah, I call to his retreating figure,
and he flips me off behind his head.
Beside me, Belle laughs. Do your bodyguards usually give you the finger? she
asks.
Only Noah, I tell her. Hes been with me for along time. Hes probably the
closest thing I have to a best friend.
A best friend that calls you sir? she asks.
He does it because he knows it pisses me off, I say. He only does it when hes
annoyed with me.
reputation.
"I'd say those stories in the media are greatly exaggerated, but they're probably
not," I tell her.
She laughs. "At least you're honest," she says. Then, abruptly: "Why did you
bring me here?"
"I'm sharing royal stories -- the good ones, not the PR-friendly ones -- and
you're not having fun?"
"No, I. That's not what I meant at all."
"Relax, luv, I'm just giving you crap," I say. "Other than playing hooky at tea? I
wanted to show you the real Protrovia."
"This is the real Protrovia?" she asks, her voice lilting. "Palatial summer
estates?"
"No, smarty," I say. "I'm just giving you a tour of the summer house. Come on.
Now I'll show you the real Protrovia. That way, if you decide to go back to the
States, at least you know what you're missing."
But I don't turn to leave. Not yet. I stand there, and she looks at me for a minute,
the expression on her face unreadable. "I'm starting to get an idea of what I'd be
missing," she says, her eyes lingering on my face for a split second too long. Then
the moment passes, and she clears her throat. "All right, Prince Albert. Sell me on
Protrovia."
12
BELLE
I m not sure what I thought I was going to get when I told a prince to sell me on
it was in Vegas, too. There, Albie had no major security detail. None that I noticed
anyway, or Id have definitely suspected something then. Hes the most famous
prince on the planet. Id expect him to have a team of bodyguards, like a rock star
or a dignitary.
Absolutely, Albie says, settling into the back seat of the car beside me. He
doesnt make a move, doesnt put his hand on my leg or do anything inappropriate.
Im not sure whether to be pleased or disappointed with that. Hes our driver.
Is security always this lax for the royal family? I ask. Noah slides behind the
wheel of the driver's seat, tossing a backpack on the front passenger side.
Albie turns toward me and winks, wearing his stupid ball cap and that bushy
mustache.
Despite my initial misgivings, maybe the royal asshole isnt so bad after all.
Lets just say that Noah and I have an understanding, Albie says. He knows
that Im perfectly capable of losing him, if I really wanted to. Kind of like today. We
could have ditched out of the palace, gone through the tunnels, and skirted around
out in town. But this way, he can follow me from afar and trust that Im not going
to try to lose him. At least not today, anyway.
The Prince is under a bit of a delusion, Im afraid, Noah says, as he pulls down
the drive. He believes hes more clever and unobtrusive than he is.
I choke back a laugh. Ive definitely gotten that impression.
If you don't think my stache is the very definition of unobtrusive, Im afraid
we cant be friends any longer, Noah, Albie says.
I feel sorry for you, Noah, I say, shaking my head.
Why? he asks, his eyes forward as he drives us outside of the walled estate and
down the weaving, winding road toward wherever the hell were going. I realized
that I have no idea what Albie's plan is, yet Im blindly following his direction as if I
dont have a care in the world.
I'm sorry that you got stuck with this assignment to guard the prince, I say.
Its a sacrifice, Noah says. King and country and all.
Albie laughs, hitting a button that automatically slides up a partition between us
and Noah. Thats enough from him, he says.
You guys are really close, I note.
Noah tolerates a lot of crap from me, he says. "He came on around the time
my mom got sick."
I can only imagine the shit he must put up with, I say, only half-joking. From
the magazine articles and media frenzy that surround the playboy prince, I can
definitely see how difficult it would be to manage him.
I expect Albie to laugh, but when I look over at him, his gaze is focused out the
window, his expression guarded.
How did your mom die?" I ask, even though I already know she died. The death
of Queen Sigrid was all over the media after it happened. I was in my senior year of
high school. I still remember the memorials, the songs written about her. And like
everyone else around the world, I remember the photo of Prince Albert and Princess
Alexandra, standing beside their father, staid and unflinching, pain written all over
their faces.
It's one thing to read about the death of someone in an online news article, or to
see their face plastered all over the media, but another thing entirely to experience
that loss first-hand.
I should know. My father's death when I was a child rocked me to my core.
Neuroendocrine Carcinoma," he says, his voice flat. "It's a rare form of
cancer."
"I'm sorry," I say, my words insufficient, the way words always seem to be when
it comes to loss.
Albie makes a sound in his throat, more like a 'heh' than a laugh, avoiding
looking at me. "I'm sorry," he says. "I've heard it a thousand times. Just like you
probably have."
"Yes," I say. "It doesn't change anything."
"No," he says, his gaze still fixated out the window. It's the first time since I've
been here in Protrovia that I think maybe Albie is deeper than he appears at first
glance. Until now, Albie didn't seem to have much running below the surface.
"And now they're both getting remarried," I say, my voice soft. I'm not sure
how I feel about it. I'm not sure I've had enough time to get used to the idea.
It's not the fact that my mother is remarrying that takes some getting used to.
She has certainly dated since my father's death. She even came close to getting
married again, to a big Wall Street guy who ran a huge hedge fund. She called that
off last-minute, which in retrospect, was a good thing, considering he was indicted
a few years later for some white-collar crime I can't recall.
Yes, Albie says, looking at me, his expression serious for the first time since
we met. Do you think my father can compare to yours?
The question takes me aback, and I cant hide the question in my tone. Your
father is a king, Albie, I say. Youre literally the most powerful family in this
country. And youre asking me how your father measures up to mine?
The question is ridiculous. My father was a self-made millionaire, who built an
empire, a fortune from nothing. All of that was before I was born, though. I grew up
rich, with the best of everything. I never wanted for anything.
But I know where I come from. And where I belong.
And where I come from is definitely not royalty.
Thats what Im asking, he says, his gaze intense. What I read about your
fatherhis storyits amazing what he built.
I cant help but raise my eyebrows. Your father is a king, I say, my words
clipped. Talking about my father, makes the car ride suddenly more intense than I
anticipated. This isnt what I expected when I agreed to a tour of Protrovia.
Being alone with the playboy prince isn't what I expected, either.
I look out the window at the countryside passing in a blur as we drive, the greens
and blues of the landscape and the greys and browns of the stone cottages whizzing
by, and try to forget the growing tightness in my chest.
My family has ruled this kingdom for five hundred years, Albie says. Do you
know what thats like?
The question jerks me out of the melancholy triggered by thinking about my
father. Of course I dont know what its like to be royal, I say. My voice comes out
harsher than I intend it to be.
No, he says. But your father I read the articles about him in the business
journals. He started from nothing. Thats something, Belle.
I dont have a pedigree, I say stupidly. I dont understand where this
conversation is going, but it makes me feel anxious. My father has been gone for a
long time, and I cant remember the last time my mother and I talked about him.
Exactly, he says. Do you know what its like to do nothing? To have
everything passed down to you, simply because you were born who you are?
I havent exactly had to earn my way in life, I point out. Im not a plucky girl
from the wrong side of the tracks whos had to fight her way through life to get
what she has. My father left me millions of dollars.
No, I dont suppose so, Albie says. Except what did you do with the money?
I roll my eyes and look out the window, breaking away from his gaze. Im
irritated by the thought that Albie seems to have looked up everything there is to
know about me just to satisfy his damn curiosity. Im not some kind of Mother
Theresa."
No, he says. You took the money and set up a foundation, then went and
spent two years in Africa working for a charity.
Yes. I dont elaborate. Im starting to feel overheated, claustrophobic in this
car with him. I dont like talking about myself, dont like being the center of
attention, and Albie is putting me on the spot. I dont need to explain to this man
this stranger, whom I barely know why I left when I graduated college, why I
didnt take the trust fund and blow it on some fabulous lifestyle, the way my
mother encouraged me to do.
You should have some fun, Belle, she said, looking at me with sadness in her
eyes. Youre too serious. Life shouldnt be so serious.
Shed definitely never taken life seriously. Wealth, power, parties, socializing
that was what kept my mother going.
She couldnt understand.
I didnt want my fathers money. It was just a reminder of his death. And thats
the last thing I wanted to be reminded of.
Albie doesnt say anything else, and neither do I during the rest of the car ride.
Instead, I watch out the window as we pass houses that are closer together as we
come to a small village. I dont know what to make of Albies questions, except to
think that maybe hes not as flippant about life as I thought he was. Im not sure if
that makes me like him more or less.
13
ALBIE
I feel like I fucked up somehow with Belle, as if a cloud, a sense of heaviness, has
descended over the car ever since I mentioned her father. Belle has me on edge
since I met her in the casino. With her, I feel like Im perpetually making missteps.
Thats not something I do when it comes to women.
Im a master at bedding women, leveraging my status and privilege and wealth
and looks to get into their panties. Belle should be no exception.
But Ive somehow managed to turn things melancholy instead of light.
Im the fuck-up prince, the irresponsible one, the man who doesnt want to be
king. I dont do serious, so I have no idea why Im having a remotely serious
conversation with Belle about our dead parents.
Thats fucking depressing.
Its like, the exact opposite of what I should be doing to get in her panties.
Noah taps the brakes as we head into the small village, traffic slowing the
vehicle to a near crawl. A banner with colored flags stretches across the archway at
the beginning of the main road through town, a cobblestone path that is routinely
closed to traffic. Today, that stretch of road is crowded with pedestrians, throngs of
families who are here for a summer festival.
I tap on the divider, and it goes down. Turn right down here, Noah.
Ill go down and around town, Noah disagrees, shaking his head. This isnt the
first time weve gone into the village, and Noah knows the back roads and ways to
bypass traffic far better than I do.
Do you come down here a lot? Belle asks, finally breaking the silence between
us. I dont know why, but I feel myself exhale with relief.
Alex and I used to sneak out here all the time in the summer, I say. It used to
piss off my father.
He didnt want you running around with the commoners? she asks.
No, I say, laughing. It was more of an issue with security risk than anything
else. Hes perpetually convinced Im going to be assassinated.
Belle raises her eyebrows. Given who you are, thats probably a legitimate
concern.
I shrug. Hes too protective, I say.
She glances at me from the corner of her eye. Says the guy who went to
Afghanistan?
I flew helicopters, I say. And, thanks to my father, I wasnt able to get close
to any real action.
Theres something to be said for staying alive playing it safe, Belle says,
turning to look at me finally. The corners of her mouth turn up on the edges, just
slightly, but the smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Even so, the way she looks at
me, her chestnut-colored eyes wide, taking the corner of her lower lip between her
teeth uncertainly, sends an almost irresistible desire to kiss her ricocheting
through me.
Fuck. I want to do a hell of a lot more than just kiss this girl.
Playing it safe is boring, I say, not wanting to take my eyes away from hers. I
watch transfixed, as she takes a deep breath, her breasts rising under the thin
fabric of her t-shirt, and I swear to God, that single breath makes my cock rigid.
Hell if a girl has ever been able to make my cock hard as a rock with one look,
with a single inhale of breath.
Then Noah clears his throat noisily, reminding me that Belle and I arent the
only ones in the car. Were here, sir, he says. Miss Kensington.
Beside me, Belle laughs, the sound light. I think it might be the best sound Ive
ever heard. Im not Miss Kensington, she says. Thats my mother. Everyone
calls me Belle.
Noah nods. Yes, maam.
Okay, maam is totally worse. Please never ever call me that again. I'm not that
old, she says, before turning to me. Where are we going?
It's the start of the summer festival, I say. This is the real Protrovia.
Noah tails us from a respectable distance as we meander through the festival,
among the throngs of families and tourists playing carnival games, listening to
music, and eating traditional Protrovian food.
Belle is mostly silent, contemplative, but I watch her take everything in as she
walks, pausing occasionally to talk to a vendor or run her fingers along a handmade
craft being sold on one of the tables. This version of Protrovia is a ton better than
the palace one, she says, turning toward me.
Behind her, someone squeezes past, pushing her into me. Her body presses up
against mine, and she doesn't jump away, not immediately. Instead, she lingers a
fraction of a moment too long, and when I reach for her elbows to steady her, my
hands land on her waist instead. Its completely inappropriate, touching her like
this out here, in the middle of everything, even for a moment.
She looks up at me, eyes framed by dark lashes, and I know she can feel how
hard I am, my bodys immediate response to her pressed against me. Rock hard
seems to be my default response to anything this girl does. But in that moment, I
know she wants me just as much as I want her.
Then Belle steps away, looking down at the ground and tucking her hair behind
her ear self-consciously. Her cheeks are flushed, pink lightly dusting her
cheekbones, and she tries to put distance between us, but the thickness of the
crowd causes her to slow down. Then I'm behind her, my lips close to her ear. I
know you could feel how hard I am for you, I say, my voice low.
The flush she gets when shes embarrassed, the one that is usually relegated to
her face, spreads all the way to her ears. I can see it from where I stand behind her,
and the sight makes me inexplicably harder.
Ive slept with models, actresses, socialites. Women throw themselves at me.
They offer threesomes and foursomes. They offer me anything I want.
And some American girl wearing jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt makes me
harder than Ive been in my damn life, with a mere blush.
Belle doesnt respond. She clears her throat and makes the same self-conscious
move again, tucking her hair behind her ear as she walks forward through the
crowd. When I catch up to her, I put my hand on the small of her back.
What are you doing? she asks, glancing behind her. There are a million
people here watching us.
I let my fingers slide just underneath the bottom of her t-shirt, grazing her skin,
hot to my touch, just for a moment, before I draw back my hand.
Propriety, I remind myself.
I should give a shit about propriety. I should give a shit about the fact that Belle
Kensington is my soon-to-be stepsister. Shes part of the royal family. I should
keep my dick in my pants and my hands to myself.
The problem is that Ive never been very good at doing the things I should do,
anyway.
When the crowd surges ahead, I take Belles arm and pull her to the right
sharply, ducking between a group of large men drinking beer before disappearing
into another group of tourists. We veer to the side and down a narrow passageway
between two brick-sided buildings. The alley is empty, and Belle pauses, backing up
against the wall and looking at me with a mixture of apprehension and lust.
We lost Noah, she says, her voice soft.
Are you worried about Noah? I ask.
Shouldnt you not be ditching your bodyguard? Belle asks the question, her
voice breathier than it was before, and Im not sure thats entirely the result of
darting through the crowd.
There are a lot of things I shouldnt do, I say. I trail a finger down her chest,
toward her cleavage, and she doesnt stop me. Instead, she sucks in a deep breath,
her chest rising under my touch.
Its the breath that undoes me. Its the sound she makes when she inhales the
way she does -- sharp, between her teeth -- that is going to be my unraveling, and
I know it. It holds the promise of everything thats inevitable between us my
tongue on her skin, the taste salty-sweet, the tangle of limbs, her slickness as I slip
inside her.
I can picture all of it hell, I can practically taste her on my lips now, without
even touching her just by listening to that inhale. Its the sound I imagine shell
make when Im plunging my cock into her, my lips near hers, as I watch the
expression on her face.
This is definitely one of those shouldnts, she says. But she doesnt move.
She stays where she is, paused with her back against the brick wall, her breasts
arched up.
Everything about her screams yes.
Prince fucks his royal stepsister, I whisper, reaching down to flick open the
button on her jeans. "It's a definite shouldn't."
Belles lips fall open in a slight O. But she doesnt protest. I almost expect her
to slap me. Im waiting for her to call me a pervert, a manwhore. I'm waiting for
her to tell me to go screw myself, to get the hell away from her.
Im not your stepsister, she whispers. Yet.
I unzip her jeans, pulling them down slightly around her hips, angling my back
toward the entrance of the alley to shield her from any wandering eyes. So youre
okay with the fucking part, then, I say, as I slip my fingers inside the front of her
panties, my eyes never leaving hers, even though I have the almost irrepressible
impulse to see what her panties look like.
This is high up there on the list of shouldnts.
Ive done a lot of bullshit flashing the press, hooking up with random girls
but Ive never screwed one in public. Always in private. I might drop my pants for
the press, but Ive never been caught with my pants around my ankles because of a
woman. Thats because whatever kind of whoring around I do, Ive always been able
to contain myself.
Belle has me going crazy. Pulling her into an alley, sliding my fingers down the
front of her pants.
This is not what I do.
My mistake, I say. Prince fucks his almost-stepsister. His wife.
No fucking, she whispers.
No fucking, I repeat, not a statement but a question, rolling my fingers over
her clit and watching her lids fall to half-mast, then widen. She catches that lower
lip of hers between her teeth again, and I swear that all I can think about is kissing
the fuck out of that mouth of hers.
I can think of a hell of a lot of things Id like to do to that mouth.
Theres not going to be any fucking, she says. But the last word fucking
comes out of her mouth in a moan, and the sound is so wanton, so desperate, that I
almost lose my shit right here.
I want to tear her fucking clothes off, right here in this alley. I want to rip her
shirt off. I want to fuck her hard against the wall, with her legs wrapped around me,
her tits in my face.
I want Little Miss Do-Gooder, Miss Does Everything Right, to be mine in the
filthiest way possible.
14
BELLE
T here might not be any fucking right now, luv, he says. But there will be. I can
his fingers continuing to dance inside me, his movements sending pulse after pulse
of pleasure through my body.
"No words anymore, Belle?" he asks, his voice low. Guttural.
"Words," I say stupidly. What were we talking about, before he slid his fingers
inside me?
Albie chuckles. "I like the speechless version of you," he says, his eyes trained
on mine as he reaches underneath my t-shirt and cups my breast, the warmth of
his hand enveloping me. He doesn't take off my bra, doesn't slide his hand under
the fabric the way I desperately want him to do.
My skin aches to feel his skin against mine, and I hate myself for wanting him
the way that I want him right now. I curse my body for its obviously appalling taste
in men.
"Notspeechless," I say, the words coming out in gasps, despite my attempt to
produce a coherent sentence. Albie makes a 'come hither' gesture with his fingers,
applying more pressure to the perfect place inside me, and I clutch his muscular
biceps tightly, my fingers digging into his skin as increasingly powerful sensations
wash over me.
"You're so fucking wet for me," he says, squeezing my breast just a little too
hard, sending a twinge of pain through my body that somehow has the effect of
heightening the pleasure.
Is this what I like pleasure mixed with pain? Fucking someone I'm not sure I
even remotely like?
"There's going to be no fucking." I blurt out the words again, my voice breathy.
I'm not sure if I'm trying to reassure him or myself.
I can't think clearly. I'm so close, so on the edge. All I know is that I want to
crash over. I want him to send me over the edge.
But he just smiles.
He slides his fingers slowly excruciatingly slowly from my wet pussy, and I
think I hear myself whine, but that can't be true, because I don't whine. I definitely
don't whimper, brought to the brink of orgasm by a man and then denied. He
presses his fingers against my clit, but doesn't move. He just pauses there, his
fingers pushed against me, the heat from him radiating into me.
I hear myself begin to whimper again and I bite my lip to stop. I won't do it.
"I already told you, Belle," he says, squeezing my breast. His thumb grazes the
skin above the fabric of my bra, and I cant help myself. I arch my back, pressing
against him. His fingers are so close to just slipping inside the cup of my bra that
covers my nipple.
Told me what? I ask, my voice breathless. I tell myself to ignore the throbbing
between my legs. I tell myself that I should take this momentary pause as an
opportunity to shut down what's happening between us.
But my body seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to Albie.
I told you, he whispers, bringing his lips close to my ear. I close my eyes
lightly, savoring every sensation as his warm breath caresses my ear and my neck.
He strokes me with the tip of his finger, gentle now, a feather-like touch. Im
going to fuck you. That wasnt an idle promise, Belle. Youre going to beg me to
fuck you, luv.
Idontbeg. I somehow manage to whisper the words, barely able to form a
coherent sentence with Albies breath against my skin, teasing, promising more.
My body feels on edge, every nerve ending more sensitive than theyve ever been,
brought to the precipice by him.
But hell, I have my dignity.
Even if Im standing in a back alley with my jeans pulled down over my hips
while a man with a fake seventies pornstache has his hand inside my panties.
Ill remember you said that, he says, slipping his hand out from between my
legs. I look at him with a mixture of confusion and disbelief as he takes away his
fingers his glorious, magical fingers from where they were a second ago,
pressed against my clit.
Wha I start, my words trailing off as I watch him bring his fingers to his
mouth. He makes a show of slowly licking them, his eyes closing as he makes a
satisfied sound.
All you have to do is ask, luv, he says, his voice low. The corners of his mouth
turn up, a smile that has to be the smuggest, most arrogant expression Ive ever
seen on anyones face. Or maybe its just compounded by the fact that Im the most
sexually frustrated Ive ever been in my life.
Youre such ajerk, I say, unable to think of a word more clever than that. Im
pretty sure that all of my brain cells have evaporated, or have been turned to mush
because of this man.
I yank my jeans back up, fumbling with the button, my hands shaky and my
heart pounding wildly in my chest as adrenaline pumps through my veins.
Smoothing my hair, as if by that simple gesture I can calm my rebellious body, I
look at him through narrowed eyes.
And the pompous ass just grins. Hes thoroughly pleased with himself. The fact
that hes so damn smug, as if hes planned this the whole time, sends a surge of
irritation through me.
Just remember that, he says, bringing his fingers to his lips again. Im going
to fuck you, Isabella Kensington. Thats a foregone conclusion. And Im going to
lick that sweet pussy of yours until youre begging for release. And when I give you
permission, when I say you can come, youre going to come on my tongue.
My face flushes red. I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks, the throbbing between
my legs so insistent now that I swear I consider saying please. I actually consider
asking him to finish what he started, to plunge his fingers back inside me and make
me come. But I dont. Ill never beg. Permission? I ask, choking out the word. I
dont know what kind of women youve been with in the past, but youre not giving
me
He cuts me off, putting his fingers the fingers that were just inside me on my
lips to silence me. Shhh, he says. Im not finished. You should let me finish,
Belle.
I push his hand away. Im not listening to
Before I can react, his hands are on my wrists, pushing me against the wall, and
my heart races. Im not sure whether Im frustrated, angry, or aroused. All I know is
that I cant stop thinking about him inside me. And, despite the rational part of my
mind that screams walk away, every part of my body is crying out for his touch. I
want to know what he wants to do with me.
I want him inside me.
Youre going to come on my cock, Belle, he says. Im going to own you in
every way possible. And youre going to beg to be mine.
A secret thrill rushes through me at his words, and I hate myself for it. I steel my
jaw, wrenching my wrists from his grasp. Never, I say. And youre delusional for
thinking that.
And yet, in spite of myself, Im already wondering what he means by saying he
wants to own me in every way possible.
He chuckles, and the self-satisfied sound makes me want to slap him across the
face. But I dont. Instead, I mentally congratulate myself on my incredible selfrestraint.
Then he steps away, turning around and walking toward the end of the alley,
ambling like he doesnt have a care in the world. Come on, luv, he says. Noahs
bound to be sending a search party out for us. I wouldnt want you to get caught
with your pants down.
15
ALBIE
B elle is ignoring me, sitting in the helicopter with her headset on, her arms
dirtiest of dirty looks. "When we get back to the palace, I'm getting a new
bodyguard," she say, her voice getting louder as she speaks. "One who isn't a
fucking caveman!"
"Be my guest, Princess," Max says, sliding into his seat. He ignores her when
she calls him a "cocksucker," and looks up at me. "Ready when you are, sir."
Alexandra looks over at Belle. "Maybe you should go back to America," she says.
"It's better than being kept prisoner in your own house!" She sighs dramatically for
effect, sinking into her seat with her arms crossed over her chest.
"WHAT'S WITH YOU LATELY?" Price asks, slapping me on the back. We're sitting in the
upstairs VIP room of a club we frequent. The walls are made entirely of glass, and
overlook the crowd below. Well, a club we used to frequent. It's been weeks since
I've been out, which in royal terms is practically a lifetime. "You haven't been out
since you came back from the States."
"Nothing's up with me." I sip a glass of scotch from a bottle that costs over a
grand, sitting on a cushioned sofa in one of the most exclusive clubs in the capital
of Protrovia. I should be happy with this.
Instead, Belle has me wrapped around the axle, so blinded by lust I can't see
straight. Now I'm two glasses of scotch in, trying to clear my head.
"You just turned down the Lara twins," Price says, nodding toward the two
women walking away. Noah stands by the door to the room, nodding at us to see if
we want him to let another set of women inside to replace the girls who just left.
Price holds his hand up to motion the girls inside, but I stop him.
"What the hell?" he asks. "When did you become a monk?"
I shrug, attempting to exude a nonchalance I don't feel. "Sorry if I don't want to
stick my dick where a thousand other guys have been."
"Twins, Albie," he says, rolling his eyes as he leans back against the upholstered
sofa. He swallows several fingers of vodka in a single gulp. "Since when have you
ever given a shit about who you put your dick in?"
"Shut up." I can't think of a single time, other than the crazy ex, when I'd even
bothered to get a girl's name. Well, maybe a few times, when I screwed women I
already knew socially countesses, duchesses, people like that. But they were
forgettable.
They've all been forgettable.
Until now. Until Belle. And I'm not even screwing her.
Apparently, now I can't get her out of my mind, even when I try.
"YOU'RE IGNORING ME." Standing behind her in the tearoom, I whisper the words into
her ear. I speak softly, mindful of the room full of people, an event for whatever the
hell we're hosting today that my presence is mandated for. At this point, the events
are a blur, and I just show up wherever my presence is requested, like a dutiful
robot prince.
Belle doesn't turn around. She doesn't move or turn or acknowledge that she
heard me, standing motionless with her teacup and saucer in her hand. From where
I am behind her, I catch a whiff of the perfume she wears, something light with just
a hint of something floral jasmine maybe, or gardenia. She smells like summer.
Her dark hair is down, tumbling over her shoulders in waves to the middle of her
back, over the pale blue tailored suit jacket she wears that matches her fitted pencil
skirt. The outfit is made for a forty-year-old woman. It's conservative, respectful,
and appropriate.
And I don't even need to look at the front of it to know that it's the hottest
fucking thing I've ever seen. The way the skirt skims over her curves, caressing her
ass like it was made for her, makes me crazy.
My cock stirs.
I'm at an afternoon tea, in a room filled with people I should care about
impressing -- and I'm getting a boner looking at Belle's ass.
The problem is that Belle has been avoiding me for the past few days. I swear
she's doing it on purpose, making sure we're never in the same room together for
more than a few minutes. Last night at the club, I could have gone home with the
Lara twins. I should have gone home with them, fucked my brains out until they
erased every thought of Belle from my head.
That would be the smart thing to do. Instead, I jerked off, thinking about Belle.
And now, seeing her here, all I can think about is yanking that far-tooappropriate skirt up around her waist and coming all over that perfect ass of hers.
Belle finally half-turns toward me, her eyebrows raised. "Oh?" she asks, holding
a teacup to her perfectly glossed lips. "I wasn't aware you needed my attention."
The way she speaks is laden with meaning, her words practically dripping with
innuendo.
"I think you're mistaken," I say softly, my words barely audible. "It's the other
way around. You need my attention."
Belle brings the tea cup to her lips, slowly taking a sip, her eyes trained on mine
as she swallows, then licks her lips. The gesture is subtle, yet somehow the most
sexual thing I've ever seen.
She glances down toward my cock, where my growing hardness is evident, and
then back up at me. "You're lying, Your Highness," she whispers, then straightens.
Her expression changes to a professional one as an older man in military regalia
walks toward us with his wife on his arm.
Miss Kensington, I say, my voice excessively formal, while Im willing my
hard-on to deflate, May I introduce the Count and Countess of Etier?
Belle smiles primly and properly. She laughs at one of the Counts jokes, and
talks with the Countess about gardening or something.
Im not paying a damn bit of attention to what were talking about, because the
16
BELLE
I wipe a towel across my forehead navy blue monogrammed with the royal crest
in gold stitching. Even the towels in the gym are excessively formal, perfectly
placed in a little pyramid on an antique table against the wall.
Five miles on the treadmill.
Thats what it took to run off the frustration caused by seeing Albie today at tea.
Five miles a day for the past few days, since we got back from the summer estate. If
I keep this up, if I keep running until Im nearly exhausted in order to run off the
overpowering attraction and sexual tension between us, Im going to be a damn
marathoner.
I could go back to the States, I think as I walk back toward my room. I could
return to the States and put all of this behind me.
Isabella, my mother calls, her voice echoing down the hallway. I turn around
to see her walking toward me in a tailored silk suit and a matching pillbox hat. I
texted you, but you didnt respond.
My phone is in my room, I say. I was in the gym.
Theres a foundation, Sofia says, handing me a packet of paperwork. Id
thought you might like to be involved with it.
What is it?
She waves her hand dismissively. Reading? she asks, absently, pulling out her
phone and scrolling over the screen. Or refugees? Im really not sure. Theres a
packet of information. Charity is your thing. You should organize a dinner,
fundraising or something. You can use your time at the summer estate to plan
something for the fall, when we return to the palace. Nothing that takes attention
away from the wedding, of course.
Fundraising isnt really my thing, mother, I say, but shes looking at her
phone, her brow furrowed. And you're assuming I'm going to stay until Fall.
I have to run, Im afraid, she says. Theres a crisis with the event tonight.
What event? I ask, as she draws me in, kissing my cheek.
Read the packet, darling, she says. Im late. I roll my eyes as she starts to
walk away. Then she pauses, turning back to me. Oh, I almost forgot to ask. How
are you adjusting to everything?
Fine, I lie. Thinking about returning home is what I deliberately leave out.
Except the problem is that Ive been living overseas the past two years, so I'm not
exactly sure where home is anymore.
Protrovia will grow on you, she says. Albert is taking care of you?
My face flushes and I cover my reaction with a fake cough.
Albie is not taking care of me, I think. Ive been taking care of myself. Every
night. While thinking about how Id like Albie to take care of me.
Yeah, sure, I say, my voice faltering.
She walks toward me, and speaks, her voice quiet. Alexandra hasproblems,
she says. Albert can show you around. He was in Afghanistan, you know. Hes
more serious now. Responsible.
I choke back a laugh as my mother whirls around without waiting for a response
from me. She walks down the hallway, every step of hers purposeful.
When I reach my bedroom, I pull open the door and toss the packet of paperwork
on the desk. I know my mother wants me to be part of a foundation, to take some
kind of administrative or public relations role -- whatever it is that a princess does.
But thats just not me.
Im hands-on, which is why I went to Africa in the first place. She totally doesnt
understand that.
Ill read the paperwork later.
I turn, my eyes resting on the box in the middle of the bed bright pink paper
embossed with a subtle floral pattern and tied with an ornate gold fabric ribbon.
Theres no card attached to the outside, so I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the
ribbon to open the box lid.
Its probably a gift from my mother, a bribe to follow the not-so-subtle order to
get involved with the foundation. The thought makes me immediately annoyed. If
my mother thinks I can be bribed with some stupid gift, shes mistaken.
I pull off the lid of the box, expecting to see a purse or new pair of shoes,
something my mother thinks someone my age would like.
Its definitely not a new purse or a pair of shoes.
I stare at the inside of the box, blinking several times to make sure Im actually
seeing what Im seeing.
That prick did not do this.
I look at the contents of the box, unsure whether to be appalled or amused. A
notecard is perched on top of a small pile of sex toys, and I set it on the bed beside
the box. Its no mystery who left me this ridiculously inappropriate gift.
I reach inside the box, pulling out the first thing I touch.
Its a fucking gold dildo. Or gold-plated or something. Its so shiny its nearly
blinding, the end opposite the tip crusted in jewels, red and blue and green. I run
my hand down the shaft, my fingertips sliding easily over the smooth cool surface.
I should be appalled, I think. Instead, heat pools between my legs as I touch the toy.
The golden cock comes to life in my hands, vibrating when I accidentally trigger
something on it, and I yelp, dropping it onto the bed, where it bounces around in a
Thought you might need a little help with your obvious frustration. If youd only
just ask, you could get more personal assistance.
I SLIDE OPEN the screen on my cell phone and text the royal bastard who thinks hes
so funny.
Got your gifts. Using them now. How did you know pink is my color?
Unless you want to show me in person. Just ask me to come down and help.
Whats with the horse tail? Does the Prince of Protrovia secretly have a pony
fetish? Are you a Brony?
Sorry, I wasbusy. Using my imagination, you know. Thought you might like it.
Weren't you a big equestrian when you were in high school? I read that
somewhere.
I TOSS the toys back in the box and put the lid firmly on the top, as if by closing it up
I can shut out the inappropriate thoughts Im having about Prince Albert. It would
be so easy to just say yes, to ask him to take the secret passageway between our
rooms and show up here to finish what he started that day in the village.
Thats not going to happen, I tell myself.
On principle.
Im not begging him for anything. The spoiled smug bastard is used to women
throwing themselves at him, to people jumping just because he says jump. He
thinks I'm going to be completely embarrassed by this little present, or that I'm
going to giggle and blush at his inappropriateness. Well, two can play this game.
I text him back.
Im sending you a gift.
17
ALBIE
I set down the phone, lying back against the bed. My cock is hard as a rock, rigid as
hell thinking about Belle and the box of toys I sent her. I can picture her right now,
her hands sliding over the sides of the box, pulling the lid from the top, and peering
inside. She'd pause, not sure whether to be embarrassed or turned on.
Definitely turned on. I know she is.
Belle might act like Little Miss Perfect, but shes wild. That afternoon in the
alley taught me that. She was mine then, totally at my mercy, with her back against
the wall, wetness nearly dripping down my hand when my fingers were inside her
sweet pussy.
Fuck. The thought of her legs spread, sliding the dildo inside her, makes me so
hard I think I might explode. Unzipping my pants, I pull out my cock and slide my
hand up and down the length of it.
Before I can continue, theres a knock on the door.
Your Highness? One of the staff asks.
Damn it. Talk about a boner killer. Im busy, I call. Could you come back
later?
Theres an envelope from Miss Kensington, the voice says. Should I slide it
under the door?
Please do, I call.
I lay there for a second, cock in my hand, waiting for the staff member to walk
away and wondering what the hell Little Miss Perfects gift is.
I lie there in bed, sliding my hand over the length of my cock, and close my eyes.
Immediately, an image of Belle pops into my head Belle on her knees in front of
me, those plump glossy lips of hers hanging open, her eyes wide as she gazes up at
me.
Im not sure there's anything else in the world that would be hotter than that
sight.
Damn it. Curiosity overwhelms my fantasy, makes me have to know what the
hell that girl put in the envelope.
Yanking up my pants, I walk to the door to get it. Reaching inside, I pull out
Belles gift.
BELLE LIES against the pillow in her room, wearing that light blue suit from tea -that powder blue, so very appropriate suit -- except that the jacket is unbuttoned,
and she's wearing nothing underneath it. The lapels of the jacket hang down, just
barely covering her nipples, but the mounds of her breasts are exposed. She runs
her hand down the middle of her chest, her fingers lightly trailing over her breasts
until she reaches the side of her jacket and opens it, revealing her perfect tits. Her
head lolling back against the pillow, she lightly closes her eyes as she runs her
finger over her nipple, bringing it to attention immediately. Her lips fall open, and
she lets out a quiet moan as she caresses her breasts, her fingers playing with her
nipples until she's ready.
I STROKE MYSELF, my movements regular and rhythmic, as I think about Belle and her
panties. My cock is rigid to the point of practically exploding at the mere thought of
Belle in bed, touching herself as she thinks about me.
I wonder if she fantasized about me with my head between her legs, my tongue
flicking over her clit until she's breathless.
Until she's wet.
Until she's at the point of no return.
Until I thrust my tongue inside her and she comes on me, her legs wrapped
around my head, hands pulling at my hair as she cries out my name.
I stroke my cock as I picture her fantasizing about me, her hands sliding up the
sides of her thighs, pulling that skirt up around her hips to reveal those lace
panties. I bring them to my face again, inhaling deeply her scent, knowing that just
a few minutes ago, she was wearing these.
She was touching herself in these, reaching down the front of her panties to roll
her finger over her clit, with that appropriate skirt of hers bunched up around her
waist. I imagine Belle sliding two fingers inside her pussy, her wetness soaking the
fabric of her panties. She fucks herself with those fingers, stroking herself the way
I did, imagining that it's me inside her.
I stroke myself faster, more furiously, as I picture Belle finger-fucking herself
until she's at the brink. No longer satisfied with just the scent of her, I palm her
panties, running the silky fabric down the length of my cock until I'm jerking
myself off with her panties in my hand.
When I come, shooting my load into those lacy panties of hers, it's Belle I
picture, Belle that pushes me over the edge. It's the thought of her fucking herself
as she thinks about me, her orgasm soaking the little black panties that are in my
hand now.
I'm barely satisfied when I'm finished. I'm still hard as a fucking rock, not
nearly satiated, still wanting her.
I should be disgusted with myself for jerking off into Isabella Kensington's
panties. Coming all over my stepsister's panties is a new level of filthy, even for
me.
The problem is, I'm not disgusted at all. I'm more turned on than ever.
I slip the panties back into the envelope she sent them in, and seal it up before I
put on a robe and lift the receiver on the phone on my desk. "Yes," I say, into the
phone. "I have an envelope that needs to be delivered to Miss Kensington's room,
please."
18
BELLE
I adjust my dress, smoothing the knee length skirt. It's a breezy material that
moves with me, swinging around my legs at a respectable knee-length. Paired with
nude heels and a jacket, its a perfectly appropriate outfit from my giant walk-in
closet filled with perfectly appropriate clothing.
Whats not appropriate is that Im not wearing panties. Im totally bare
underneath, and even though I tell myself that its because I dont want visible
panty lines in a photo thats part of my mother and Leos official press release
announcing their engagement, the real reason has nothing to do with that.
The real reason has to do with the envelope Ive tucked away in the zipper
section of one of the designer purses in my closet, stuffed into the only place I
could think of where someone wouldnt inadvertently discover it while cleaning
and draw the inevitable conclusion that Im some kind of pervert who keeps jizzcovered panties.
I think I am some kind of pervert.
Ive never been one of those women who sleep with a guy and suddenly go off
the deep end, becoming totally obsessed with dick. But now suddenly I am.
And I havent even slept with Albie I havent even seen his cock.
Except in photos. I did look up those pictures after all, the uncensored version of
Albies bare-it-all-for-the-press cock photos, the ones where he stands with his
pants unzipped, proudly displaying the full monty for the press.
And he should be proud of that thing.
Its not exactly small.
So now, Im one of those cock-obsessed, cant-think-about-anything-else
girls. And it just happens to be the cock of one of the most irritating, domineering,
pompous men in the world.
Who wants me to beg him for that cock.
Well, that is just never going to happen, I tell myself as I apply a coat of bright
red lipstick to my lips. This is not an appropriate shade of red at all, especially for a
photography session. The rest of me is subdued, with my cream-colored dress and
matching nude heels, hair pulled up into a smooth high ponytail.
In reality, though, Im far from subdued. Im agitated, edgy, being driven to the
If I had any sense at all, I'd turn around and head for my suite. Id call Raine and
tell her that I'm going to buy a plane ticket, that I will meet her and Phoenix in
Amsterdam and pretend none of this ever happened.
I'll forget I'm a soon-to-be princess.
I'll forget that I'm Albie's soon-to-be-stepsister.
I'll forget that I'm his wife.
If I had any sense, that's what I'd do.
But I don't.
Albie grabs my wrist, right in the hallway, and pulls me into the nearest room.
It's a game room filled with antique furniture like every other room in the palace.
Except this room has old chess sets and a gilded billiard table. In the center of the
room sits a circular gaming table topped with cream and gold marble, surrounded
by gilded antique chairs.
Albie pulls me into the room, walking briskly around the area without a word
before going to the door and securing the lock. He turns to me, his back against the
door. "You and I need to stop this back-and-forth," he says. "We both know
youre dying to have me.
I back up until my back is flush against the marble topped table, taking Albie in.
He's wearing a dark suit, tailor-made for him, that sets off his blue eyes and dark
hair perfectly, as if he stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. But what I see
in those eyes is nothing like what I'd see in a magazine. It's intense, feral. Filled
with lust.
"I know you want me," I say. Heat courses through my body, the marble top of
the table cool against the small of my back. "Based on the state you returned my
panties in."
"But today, there are no panties," he says, crossing the room with long,
purposeful strides until he reaches me. He stands in front of me, too close for
comfort, and I suck in a deep breath of air as my heart races a million beats a
second.
He looks down at me, using his knee to spread my legs. "Just say you want my
fingers there, stroking your clit. You want me to put my mouth between your legs,
suck your clit until you're breathless"
No, I say.
I reach between my legs, pushing aside the breezy fabric of my skirt to slide my
fingers down the front of my mound to touch my throbbing clit. I bite my lip at the
shock of arousal that courses through me, watching the expression on Albie's face
change from one of unabashed lust to surprise.
He didn't think I would touch myself in front of him.
Hell, I didn't think I would do something like this. Lust is making me insane.
Temporary insanity, I think. I've never been left so unsatisfied before, and yet the
only thing I can think about, the only think I care about right now, is pushing him
to the brink. Making him be the one who begs for it.
"All you have to do is say please, Belle," Albie says, his eyes on mine. He stands
there unmoving, unwavering, his leg pressed against the bottom of my pussy. I
know I'm wet, and the thought of my wetness soaking the fabric of his suit -- the
thought of leaving my mark -- makes me insane.
"After you," I say, my voice breathy. "It's such a small word. Just a request,
really."
"Ladies first."
But I'm not going to say please. I'm not going to beg him, the way every other
girl in the world has begged him.
He watches me, unable to disguise his arousal, the bulge in his pants more than
enough evidence that he's turned on.
The knock on the door startles me and I jump, pulling my skirt down and
straightening up immediately, my heart racing. "Oh my God. Is the door locked?" I
whisper.
Albie raises his eyebrows and winks at me. "Live a little, luv," he says,
chuckling as I push him away.
19
ALBIE
L ive a little.
Thats what I told her, hours ago in the game room, when we were interrupted
by a member the household staff who needed to prepare the room for an afternoon
event.
Live a little. Detour to the observatory.
Thats the text she sent me ten minutes ago, as I was making my way toward the
petite ballroom, to an event for some cause or another, something utterly
forgettable.
Of course Im going to detour to the observatory. My cock is rock hard, thinking
about what just happened in the game room earlier today. Thinking about Belle,
with her dress hitched up around her thighs, giving me a view of her bare pussy
under that conservative dress of hers.
The thought of bending her over in that conservative dress with the flirty skirt
makes me want to come right now. I wont pretend I dont want to slide my cock
inside her tight pussy, push her up against a wall and fuck the living hell out of her,
because I obviously do. I want to do that, more than anything.
Almost anything.
I like the game were playing, the back-and-forth between her and I, the way
she ups the ante each time I do something inappropriate. I like pushing Belles
boundaries. I like the idea that I can make someone like her so proud, stubborn,
unyielding even consider begging me to fuck her.
I want her to beg me.
The idea is thrilling.
The observatory is empty, completely deserted, and I wonder if shes about to up
the ante in the ultimate way if shes called me here because shes giving in.
Reaching into the pocket of my pants, I finger the condom I brought with me.
But its deserted, even of Belle.
I wander the expanse of the room, the moonlight from the glass ceiling bathing
the room in an eerie glow. Its the only room in the palace thats more modern, the
furniture reflecting the fact that this was an addition to the palace in my fathers
time. Its the only room hes added onto the palace. Everything else dates back to
the fifteen hundreds. In this room, the furniture is sleek, modern, navy and cream
colors that are elegant but fitting for an observatory.
This used to be one of my favorite places to be in the palace when I was a kid. My
father would bring me up here to look at the stars with the telescope.
I havent been up here in years, since before I left for the Army.
The phone vibrates in my pocket, and I open a text from Belle.
Look down.
Shes not in the room. I know immediately where she is. I walk across the
observatory, where a set of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooks the music room.
And there is Belle.
Shes sitting on top of the fucking piano.
She's sitting on top of the piano, wearing a red strapless gown, her breasts
practically spilling out of the top. Her legs crossed, the slit in the side of the skirt
falls open, revealing the expanse of her creamy thigh.
The dress is scandalous. It will be scandalous, if she shows up to the event in
that. Im sure it looked less scandalous on the rack, or on the runway, but on her is
looks like sex. She looks like sex.
And shes sitting there, her legs crossed, looking up at me.
Should we finish what we started?
I send the text, waiting for her to beckon me down and beg me to take her up
against the piano. Or on top of the piano.
I want to lay her back across the lacquered surface of the grand piano, spread her
legs, and devour her.
THE TEXT MAKES ME LAUGH. Even now, shes refusing to bend. Its such a small thing.
I shake my head, knowing that she can see the gesture from where she sits.
When I call her, she answers, her voice breathy. Ask me to come down and join
you, I say.
She just laughs. No.
Youre stubborn.
20
BELLE
I ts the big night the night of my mother and King Leopolds engagement party.
Next week, well head north to the summer estate, where well be shielded from
much of the media flurry that will inevitably follow the official engagement
announcement.
Well go to the summerhouse.
Suddenly, Im including myself in the future royal plans, as if I'm staying for the
summer.
Who am I kidding? Last night, I fingered myself in the music room while Albie
watched. Even from where he stood, through a window and an entire floor higher, I
could see he was hard as a rock watching me, a very large bulge in his pants.
Of course I'm going to stay for the summer.
I'm not thinking clearly right now, obviously. My rational mind is clouded by
unruly desire, my ability to think clearly diminished by my lust for my stepbrother.
I'm not rational at all, not anymore.
But that doesn't mean I want to give in to his demand to beg him to fuck me.
Even though every part of me is begging for it, lusting for it.
"You lookwell, good enough to eat."
The voice is deep, sultry, soft so soft that I'm the only one who can hear. At
least, I hope so, anyway. I whirl around, or try to, but Albies hand is on my waist,
guiding me around the corner, and down a service hallway of outside the main
ballroom where the engagement party is being held.
"Albie, what are you doing?" I hiss, pushing against him, but he holds my arm,
his lips near my ears.
"We only have a second," he whispers from behind me. The service entrance is
empty, but anyone could walk through at any moment. I should be terrified of that
terrified of the possible repercussions, of the potential public embarrassment.
Instead, a surge of adrenaline rushes through me, a secret thrill at Albie's hands
on me. The heat from his body radiates onto mine, and every cell in my body is on
high-alert, acutely sensitive to him, aware of his every breath.
"We need to go to the engagement party, Your Highness," I say.
"Spread your legs."
"Excuse me?" I must be hallucinating, driven mad with lust. He did not just tell
me to spread my legs right here in the hallway within twenty yards of the ballroom
where our parents -- the King and Future Queen of Protrovia together with
everyone who's everyone in this country, are celebrating their upcoming nuptials.
Because that would be insane.
"You heard me, luv," he whispers. "Don't think. Just do it."
But Heaven help me, that's exactly what I do.
I stand here, in my ridiculously expensive designer cocktail dress, with my
stepbrother's arm around my chest, pulling me tightly back against him, and I
spread my legs.
"And?" I ask, provoking him. My heart pounds loudly against his arm, and he
fumbles with something.
"I have a present for you," he says, slipping his hand between my legs from
where he stands behind me. A sensation of something cold makes me jump.
"What the hell, Albie?" I yelp.
"This is your present," he whispers. "I sent it to you in your box. I borrowed it
back."
The box he sent me with the sex toys.
"You are not touching me right here, right now, with one of those things," I
hiss.
Its unfortunate you say that, he says. I guess Ill have to take it back. I feel
a light vibration flick on, sending a tingle through my core, and then it stops as
quickly as it starts.
Hes teasing me. Taunting me.
He knows Im wet, just as soon as he touches me.
Dont, I say. Dont take it back.
Is that a yes? he asks.
I cant believe Im considering this, I whisper.
"Make your choice, luv. One of the caterers or the staff is going to walk out of
that entrance any second now," he whispers, his breath hot on my ear. "You don't
want them to see you with your stepbrother's hand up your skirt, do you?"
I shake my head. "No."
He flicks the vibrator on again, and the sensation sends arousal rushing through
me. "Then spread your legs, Princess," he says. "Because I'm not playing around
anymore. Say yes."
"You're going to send me out there with that inside me?" I ask.
Most definitely, he says. Say the word, luv. The word is yes.
Hurry, I whisper. Do it now.
I dont say yes. Just hurry. Its the principle of the thing.
He chuckles, his breath warm on my ear, and I stand motionless with my body
pressed against his as he slides the vibrator inside me, aided easily by my wetness.
When he finishes, he takes a step back and puts a business-like amount of space
between us. Its just in time, too, as two servers carrying trays bound around the
corner and stop sharply in their tracks. "Your Highness," one of the servers says,
carefully balancing a tray of champagne flutes while bowing his head.
"Please," Albie says, waving them past us. "I apologize for being in the way."
Once they've walked past us, Albie holds up a small remote. "I like to watch you
come," he says, slipping the remote into his tuxedo jacket pocket. "And I want to
watch you come in a room filled with every important person in this kingdom."
"You're crazy," I say, except what's crazy is the fact that this is turning me on.
"Someone will hear it."
He smiles, reaching inside his pocket, and I feel the vibration inside me. But I
hear nothing. "What were you saying?" he asks. "This was especially-made for
me. It's not exactly available on the open market. And yes, it's totally silent. So
don't worry -- people will have no idea why you're coming all night. Shall we?"
He doesn't wait for a response. He walks ahead of me, out the hallway and
toward the ballroom, and I'm left to catch up. I take my steps slowly, carefully, and
measured, conscious of the vibrator inside me.
I feel a weird mixture of nervousness and confidence as I walk toward the
ballroom, several steps behind Albie. And arousal.
I definitely feel aroused, even with the vibrator turned off.
Its a delicious secret Albie and I share. One among several secrets.
I push that thought out of my head, squeezing my muscles around the vibrator,
assuring myself that its not going to slip out and clatter to the floor in the middle
of this event.
Now, that would be a scandal.
Darling.
My mother greets me like Im the prodigal daughter, arms
outstretched, her face beaming. She never calls me darling, but I cant help but
smile anyway. She looks happy. Really happy, like I havent seen her in years, and
despite our differences, that makes me feel good.
Mother, I say, as she draws me in close, giving me two air-kisses. You look
really stunning.
Shes breathtaking in a cream-colored chiffon evening gown that trails to the
floor, a huge diamond statement necklace lying carefully over the scooped neckline
of the dress. Her hair is piled on her head, and she wears a small tiara not the
royal crown, which shell wear during the wedding, but gorgeous nonetheless.
Thank you, darling, she says, smiling. As she pulls me close, she whispers
softly. I know you hate these big social things, but please try your best and I
promise I'll make it up to you."
I smile politely, the moment interrupted when King Leopold takes my hand.
Isabella, he says, his voice warm. Have I told you how delighted I am that
youve decided to stay for the summer?
Im honored to be a guest in your home," I say.
Leopold laughs, a deep sound that comes from his belly. My dear, youre
family, he says. Please dont ever call yourself a guest again.
Ill try to remember that, Your Royal Highness, I say, bowing my head.
Albie tells me he showed you around Senijk, Leopold says, referencing the
town where their summer estate is. My mind immediately flashes to exactly what
Albie showed me in the village that day his skill with his fingers.
I showed her the most important parts of Senijk, Albie says, beside me, and I
avoid looking at him as the vibrator flicks on inside me, low and slow, but the
movement surprises me and I yelp.
Are you okay? Leopold asks, and I just know my face must be bright red.
Uhyes, I say, coughing to hide my embarrassment. I just turned my ankle
in these heels. Im afraid I havent gotten used to wearing high heels again.
I imagine this entire thing is a bit of a shock for you, Leopold says, as Albie
increases the intensity on the vibrator. I look over at him and shoot him the most
murderous glare I can muster under the circumstances.
The vibrator is one thing, but turning it on when Im trying to carry on a
conversation with his father is another thing entirely.
A very bad, very warped thing.
Itsyesa shock, I would say.
Its probably difficult to leave someplace that intense, Albie says, his voice
the epitome of professional and measured. Except for the fact that he looks me
right in the eye, his expression filled with mischief, and lingers just a little too long
on the word intense, turning up the intensity of the vibrator as he speaks.
Uh-hum, I say. What the hell were we talking about again? I cant think
clearly when all I can focus on is whats happening between my legs.
Its a good thing that there is a ballroom of people waiting for an audience with
my mother and the king, because I theres no way I can muster a coherent
sentence. My entire body feels warm, heated to the point of discomfort by the
arousal surging through my veins.
Albie leans close to me as we walk away. Do I hear a faint buzzing sound? he
asks.
Shut up, I reply, through gritted teeth. Oh God, if he keeps this going, Im
going to have to walk out of here right now.
Im kidding, he says. Totally silent. Although, judging from the expression
on your face, its obviously working.
I dont know why I let you put it in me, I hiss, barely able to choke out the
words. Another surge of the vibrator, and I stumble, putting my hand on Albies
arm for support.
Oh, trust me, luv, he whispers, smiling politely at someone from across the
room, someone important whos undoubtedly walking toward us to say hello. I
cant tell who it is because Im practically seeing double already. Im going to be
putting more than that in you.
Miss Kensington, a voice says, and the vibration stops abruptly. Thank God,
because I was about to cause a scene. I look up to see an older gentleman, and Albie
introduces us he's a politician of some kind. Or was it an earl? I've already
forgotten.
Then Albie and I are split up. For the next half hour, one of the royal family's
handlers, a public relations expert named Christine who dictates my every move,
escorting me from guest to guest. There is a whole team of public relations
handlers on staff, all dressed in identical black suits on non-event days and gowns
and tuxedos on nights like tonight.
Christine is stiff and rigid, all business and no pleasure, her jet-black hair pulled
up in a high ponytail that only serves to make her face look even thinner than it is.
She introduces me to guests in a clipped tone, with just a hint of a smile, an
expression that must serve her well in this capacity. Everything about her screams
dont fuck with me.
She's positively terrifying.
And the entire time, the vibrator flicks on and off inside me, at random intervals
that Albie determines from wherever he is in the ballroom.
I smile and nod and exchange pleasantries with people until Im dizzy, unable to
think of anything except the throbbing between my legs. All-business-Christine
introduces me to important people, reminding me between introductions of the
importance of learning royal customs and maintaining royal bearing. And the
whole time, Albie is sending random pulses of vibration through me that nearly
leave me breathless.
Ive been reduced to a weak-kneed, quivering bundle of desire, controlled by my
pussy and by my stepbrother.
Thirty minutes into this fiasco, and Im worthless. All of my brain cells are now
devoted to maintaining my composure while Albie turns on the vibrator again.
I will not have an orgasm here in the middle of this, I tell myself. It would be
deeply humiliating.
Nevertheless, I can feel it building in my core.
Are you okay? Christine asks. You look flushed. Should I send for a doctor?
No! I snap, then quickly lower my voice, clearing my throat as I look over her
shoulder. I'm desperately trying to find Albie in the sea of people, to telegraph the
message that he has to stop what he's doing. Um. I needsome water. Or some
air, maybe. Champagne. Im babbling, making no sense. She must think Im on
drugs or something.
Ten minutes, she says, curtly, whirling around and walking briskly in the
other direction, her hand on her earpiece.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the vibrating ceases, even though it does little to
stop the pulsing between my legs. I mentally calculate how far it is to the ladies
room and whether I can get through the crowd without being seen by anyone.
Oh my God. Alexandra takes my arm. You got stuck with Christine. Shes
the worst of the PR robots. Do you want to make an escape?
I giggle, the absurdity of all of this suddenly hitting me. Shes awful, I
whisper.
You have to medicate to get through it, Alex says, leaning her head on my
shoulder. I totally like you, Belle. Have I told you that? Youre not terrible. I
expected you to be terrible, like one of those really smug bitches, the kind who
think theyre Gods gift to the earth just because they go around saving people and
stuff.
Youre obviously well-medicated, I say, laughing.
I took some X, she says. Wow. Has anyone ever told you that your hair is
really brown? Like, not poop brown, either. Its pretty brown. Do you want some
X? I have some, right in my clutch.
Ill pass, I say. As if I need to take anything that would increase the
sensitivity of my body in any way, shape, or form.
Quick, she says. Two oclock. Sir Richard Benton. Hes hot, right? We
should talk to him.
"What? Who?" I ask absently. I catch a glimpse of Albie across the room as the
crowd parts. He's standing next to a blonde tall, long-legged, thin, and
gorgeous. She puts her hand on his forearm, the gesture at once possessive and
familiar.
"Richard Benton," Alex says. "Come on. Please tell me you've heard of him, at
least. He's been in movies in the States. He was knighted in England. I can't
remember why. Probably for being hot as hell."
I can't think of Richard whoever-the-hell-he-is, not when I'm looking at Albie
on the other side of the room, with some girl hanging all over him.
Alexandra follows my gaze. "Ugh," she says. "That bitch."
"What bitch?" I ask. I find it unreasonably difficult to pry my gaze away from
the two of them. The girl laughs I can't hear it, but I just know she has one of
those perfect little musical laughs, a tinkling sound and touches his forearm
again.
"Erika. She's the worst," Alex whispers, though not quietly enough. It's more
like a stage whisper, which is wholly inappropriate for this setting. If it weren't for
the fact that I'm completely distracted by Albie on the other side of the room, the
entire thing would be laughable. I have a princess hanging on my arm, high as a
kite and airing her opinions too loudly, and a vibrator inside me, my royal
stepbrother at the controls.
And all of it, at my mother's engagement party, surrounded by the crme de la
crme of Protrovian society.
"Why is she the worst?" I ask absently. Albie pats the bitch on the arm, then
looks up. I avert my eyes, but not quickly enough. He makes eye contact with me
from across the room.
"She's terrible," Alex says. "Manipulative and shallow. They were together
years ago. I dont know what he ever saw in her. She cheated on him a lot. Albie
won't ever say it, but I think he was in love with her. And she broke his heart."
I swallow hard the lump that's beginning to form in my throat. What if he still
has feelings for his ex? I definitely dont want to do to someone what Derek did to
me. Suddenly, everything about what I'm doing with Albie feels even more wrong.
"Excuse me," I say to Alex. "I need to run to the restroom."
But before I can make my stealthy exit, Christine catches my arm. "I'll need you
to take your seat, Miss Kensington and Princess Alexandra," she says. Then,
looking up, "Ah, Prince Albert, you as well. You'll join the King and Queen at the
head table."
"Wait, I " I begin to protest, but I'm ushered along. Behind me, Albie steps too
close for a split second, his breath warm on my neck. I tell myself to focus on
something else, anything else, because walking this way through the ballroom,
with my nipples erect underneath my dress, is the worst possible thing that could
happen.
"You weren't about to sneak out of here, were you?" Albie whispers, and I feel
the vibrator start up again, the rumble low and steady. But instead of being turned
on, the way I was before, I just find myself irritated. I'd tell him to turn it off, but I
know he'll just turn it up a million times more. So I just grit my teeth and promise
myself there's no way he's making me come. I won't let it happen.
Willpower, I tell myself. Think of something else. Something un-sexy.
Like the image of Albie with that blonde's hand on his arm, giggling like an idiot
because he said something that was most likely inappropriate.
"No," I say curtly. "I'm headed to the table to sit with my new siblings."
He turns up the vibration higher and I involuntarily yelp, a sound I quickly cover
with a cough. Behave, he whispers.
Apparently thats something you need to learn, I say, my words coming out
breathier than I intended.
Oh, youre jealous, he whispers. Then he shuts off the vibrator, leaving my
muscles pulsing around it.
Of course hes seated next to me at dinner. Im seated between Alex on my right,
and Albie on my left, probably a strategic move by the public relations team to
make sure everyone is reminded how integral a part of the family I am. Mercifully,
Albie leaves me alone during most of dinner.
My legs crossed, sitting in a chair, I almost manage to forget the vibrator is
inside me. And, deliberately ignoring Albie, Im almost able to forget about him and
the ex-girlfriend.
21
ALBIE
I saw
you talking with Erika earlier, Sofia says, sipping from a glass of
champagne. Will she be joining us at the summer house? Ive heard so many
lovely things about her.
On the other side of Belle, Alex snorts, her inhibitions lowered by whatever she
took to get her through tonights events. I glance at my empty scotch glass,
downing a glass of champagne as a poor substitute. Lovely, Alex scoffs. Ive
never heard her called that before.
She wont be joining us at the summer house, Sofia, I say, my voice firm. At
least that shuts her up. Im not sure whether shes manipulative or simply
unobservant, but its obvious to everyone else that Erika and I are nothing.
No? Belle asks, her voice innocent. You should invite her.
I flick on the vibrator in response, and watch as a flush runs up Belles neck,
then down the front of her chest. She crosses her legs, and re-crosses them as I
increase the vibration a little more.
I was having fun with this whole thing earlier, the thrill of turning the vibrator
on and off at inopportune times. But now, Im not. Im not going to wait any
longer. I want to watch Belle come, sitting right here at this table.
Are you okay, Belle? I ask, cutting a piece of filet and popping it into my
mouth. You look a little feverish.
Imfine, she says, looking straight ahead as she takes a sip of wine from her
glass. No one else notices, but I can see her eyes close for just a moment too long.
The thought of her sitting at this table beside me, her pussy wet because shes
on the verge of coming, makes me hard as a rock, and I have to adjust the napkin
that covers my lap.
When she finally looks over, her gaze falls to my lap, then up to my eyes again. I
know she saw how hard I am. She looks away as quickly as she turned. Prince
Albert, she says. You should stand and make a toast, dont you think?
I cough to hide my laugh. Clever girl.
I flick the setting on the vibrator up higher, trying not to think of what thats
doing to her. I run quickly through mental images of anything that might deflate
my raging erection.
Outside of the ballroom, Alex is talking to Finn Asher, laughing as she opens her
purse to show him something. Several feet away, her bodyguard Max stands in a
suit, his arms crossed, glaring at the two of them. He looks like hes two seconds
away from throwing Alex over his shoulder again, the way he did at the
summerhouse.
Where did Belle go? I ask, my tone accusatory.
She said she wanted some air, Alex says. Dont be a nag.
When I walk outside, I see Belle standing on the edge of the granite deck, her
forearms resting on the railing. When I reach her, she doesnt look at me. You
shouldnt have followed me out here.
Isnt that what you wanted?
That gets a rise out of her. She turns to face me, her eyes icy. No, she says,
and I can tell shes trying hard to keep her voice measured, restrained. That is not
what I wanted.
A couple walks past us carrying glasses of champagne, and I turn my head. The
last thing I want is to talk to a nosy, irritating socialite and her husband.
In fact, the last thing I want to do is talk to anyone right now.
Youre awfully cranky for someone who just had an earth-shattering orgasm,
I say quietly, watching her face turn scarlet.
She looks around before speaking. I did not have an earth-shattering
anything, she says.
Liar, I say, turning on the vibrator again.
She flinches. Stop it, Albie.
Too much? I ask. If you like, I can reach up there and retrieve it.
Thanks but no thanks. She turns, walking down the stairs from the deck to
the lawn that stretches for acres behind the palace, trimmed on the edges with
large trees to hide the massive walls that secure the palace grounds.
Youre angry, I say, following her across the lawn. She walks faster, trying to
get rid of me, and I let her, until she reaches the side of the glass enclosure that
surrounds the swimming pool.
Im not angry, she says, turning to face me. Besides, someone is going to see
us out here. You should get back to your girlfriend.
I flick on the remote to the vibrator. Dont lie, luv, I say. It doesnt suit you.
Stop doing that. She glares at me, then glances toward the deck.
Shes an ex.
I didnt ask who she was, she says. Will you turn that thing off now?
Ill turn it off once you admit youre just being cranky because youre jealous.
Ill admit no such thing, she says, as she marches toward the pool house and
yanks open the door. I follow her inside, flicking the vibrator up all the way, just for
added effect.
Oh God, Belle says. She faces the wall, leaning with one hand over her head,
and lets out an exasperated groan. But I dont turn the vibrator off; I only turn it
down. Im not a monster, after all.
Walking up behind her, I take her other hand and put it against the wall. She
stands with both palms flat against the wall and her ass sticking out, and I run my
hands along those curvy hips.
Youre not done yet, luv, I tell her.
She lets out a moan, long and low under her breath, her fingertips pressing
against the wall. Its too much, Albie, she says. Im so sensitive.
Just come for me, Belle, I whisper. Thats twice now that youve come and I
didnt get to hear it. I want to hear you moan.
Ioh God, she groans. Screw you, Albie.
Not yet, luv, I say, letting my hands graze the length of her evening gown,
squatting as I follow it down to where it falls on the ground. I pull the entire thing
up around her waist, draping it across her bare ass. But soon.
Oh God, she says again, arching up her back as she presses her hands firmly
against the wall. The movement has the added effect of pushing back her perfect
ass at me, and I run my palms over her smooth skin.
Oh, Albie, I tell her, one hand caressing her ass cheek. Thats what I want to
hear you say. That, and please. Please make me come, Albie.
Im not begging you, she says, her voice strained. Then, That feels so good.
Running my palm over her ass, I draw my hand back and bring it down hard, the
crack reverberating through the room.
Damn it, Albie, she says, then moans. And she doesnt move. She shakes her
hair, tossing her head back, and I realize something.
She likes it.
You enjoyed that, didnt you? I ask. Youre so close to coming, and you liked
my hand on your ass, spanking you.
Maybe, she whispers, looking at me over her shoulder.
I reach between her legs, my fingertips brushing along the length of her pussy
lips. Youre drenched, I say. Soaked. You fucking love this. Say it. You want me
to make you come.
Im not saying it, she says. I wont beg.
I bring my hand down on the opposite cheek, and she flinches. But she doesnt
stand up and walk away. She arches her ass out more. I caress the red mark thats
rapidly spreading across the expanse of her skin, while she moans low under her
breath.
Say it, luv, I tell her, reaching between her legs from behind until I find her
clit with my fingertip. But I don't move my finger. I just press it gently on her clit.
Tell me how much you want me. You want me inside you. You want to feel me,
coming inside you.
Albie, she says, groaning loudly, her frustration evident.
"Belle."
"What?" her eyes are closed, her forehead wrinkled, and I know how much she
wants to let go.
"You're the only one I want to make come. Not Erika, not anyone else. Do you
22
BELLE
T he most handsome, most eligible bachelor in the world well, maybe bachelor
isnt the right word, not if were counting our fake marriage -- is looking into my
eyes, telling me that he aches to taste me.
And thats after making me come twice in a night.
The rational part of me is telling me we could get caught. Its my mothers
engagement party, for goodness sake. And Im in the pool house with Albie.
Albie, my stepbrother, whos telling me he wants to put his tongue between my
legs.
I want you, I whisper, hardly sure Im even hearing the words coming out of
my mouth. I want your tongue on me.
Say please, he says. I like to hear you say please.
Screw you. Thats what I think. Those are the words that run through my head.
But oddly enough, the word that comes out of my mouth, because apparently
theres some kind of disconnect between my lips and my brain, is please.
Albie makes a growling sound under his breath before sliding his hands up
underneath my ass and lifting me up off the ground. I dont even have a chance to
object. I just giggle stupidly as he carries me across the room to a chaise lounge and
deposits me firmly on my feet beside the cushioned piece of furniture. Now, he
says. Youre going to straddle my face while I eat that perfect pussy of yours.
The words make me flush hot. No one has ever talked to me the way Albie talks
to me Derek certainly never did. Of course, Derek never sent desire coursing
through my veins the way Albie does. Albie has a way of making me lose my mind
and toss my inhibitions aside like theyre nothing.
Albie sits back on to the chaise, sliding his hands up my thighs and pushing the
fabric of my dress toward my hips. Stop thinking, luv, he whispers. Im starving
and youre going to be my meal.
Wait, I protest, as Albie pulls me against him until Im standing with my
pussy near his face.
Mmm, he says, inhaling deeply. If youre not going to climb over me and sit
on my face, I suppose I can make do this way.
Wait. Albie.
Im not Weird, Im about to say, but I cant focus on anything except what
Albie is doing with his tongue right now.
Holy shit, the guy has skills. I mean, I should have anticipated that, based on
what I read about him in the magazines.
But, I mean, he has real skills. Porn star skills.
If hes this good with his tongue, I can only imagine what hed do with that
pierced cock.
The thought of it very nearly sends me over the edge, right here, right now.
Standing behind the bar, in front of my soon-to-be stepsister and her guy-of-thehour.
Talk about inappropriate timing.
With one hand, I grip Albies hair, trying to pull him away from me. But hes
unrelenting.
Whats that? Alex asks, bending over to squint at the floor.
Theres a remote, Finn says. Shit, dude, that might be for a bomb or
something.
No! I say loudly. I mean. Im sure its not a bomb.
Oh my God. This is exactly what I need two stoners thinking the remote that
goes to the vibrator is a fucking bomb.
Visions of the palace being evacuated and my mother finding out what exactly
Ive been doing with Albie flit through my head.
Are you sure its not a bomb? Alex asks. Ill mention it to one of the security
guys. I should just take it to them.
I think bomb remote control things are bigger, Finn says. I mean, Ive seen
them in movies. They dont look like this.
Between my legs, I feel Albies mouth vibrate as he laughsinto my pussy.
Heaven help me, the vibration coupled with what hes doing with his tongue has
me ready to come right now.
I slap him on the side of the head and in retaliation, he tongue-fucks me.
Some retaliation.
Dont touch it! I yell, and they both look up at me, backing away from the
remote control like its radioactive. Thank goodness they dont seem to have
noticed the vibrator. I meanfuckif itsa bombyou should stop touching
oh God.
Are you having a panic attack? Alex asks. Finn, its not the remote to a
bomb. Im like, eighty percent sure.
Yespanic attack I choke out the words, nearly blinded by lust. Damn it,
Im about to come for the second time tonight in front of someone else.
Im not sure if that makes this a high point or a low point in my life.
I can get the doctor, Alex says. I should call him.
No! I shout, as Albies tongue flicks inside me again. Ijustneed to be
fucked. Um, not fucked. I do not need to be fucked. Fuck. Fuck is what I said. Just.
Leave?
Alright, alright, Alex says, putting her hands up in mock surrender. Geez.
Im out of here.
Finn elbows her. See? he asks. I told you shes weird.
Ill tell security about that remote. Lets just leave it, Alex says as they exit.
The door slams closed behind them.
Fuuck! I scream, clutching Albies head as I come on his face, unable to hold
back any longer.
The orgasm is intense. Its incredibly intense. Its magnified a thousand times
by the fact that I was trying not to come while Alex and Finn were in here, the
experience made even more dangerous by the fact that theyve probably sent
security this way to grab the remote control to the vibrator.
My pussy is throbbing. The empty ache that begs to be filled is almost
unbearable, as I pull Albies face away from me. He looks up at me, obviously
pleased with himself.
We have to get out of here, I whisper. Now.
But Albie just grins and puts his face back between my legs. His tongue works its
magic again, the sensation so exquisitely overpowering its nearly painful. When I
push him away, he just laughs. Fine, he says, pulling himself to a standing
position. He kisses me full on the lips before I can object. Do you taste yourself?
Its the sweetest taste imaginable.
Oh my God, I cant believe you just did that. I scramble out from behind the
bar and across the room to grab the vibrator and the remote before someone else
comes in here.
Cant believe I did what? Albie asks innocently. Kissed you so you could taste
yourself?
That too, I say, scrambling to pick up the sex toys. My boob falls out of my
dress, which is just further evidence of how absolutely fucking classy I am, and I
hitch the top of the dress up an inch. I have no pockets. Take these.
Albie slips them into his tuxedo pocket as I stand up to see a suited man heading
toward the pool house. Albie catches my panicked look and grins. Well go out the
back door.
He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the pool house, and I lose a shoe in the
process.
Thats the second time Ive lost a shoe around the prince.
Id say that on the bright side, at least my dignity is intact -- if it werent for the
glaring fact that I had two public orgasms tonight in front of my family.
All in all, Id say with a fair amount of certainty that dignity has gone right out
the fucking window.
23
ALBIE
O h my God, she gasps, her breath short as I pull her along the side of the
property. The shadows from the trees that line the border of the yard hide us.
Or at least, I hope they do.
When we reach the side of the palace, totally deserted, Belle leans back against
the building, her breath short. Seriously, theyre going to be looking for that
remote, Albie. If your sister told them it was a bomb, wont they be evacuating?
I laugh. Theyll probably do a sweep of the palace, but theyre not going to
evacuate our parents engagement party, I say. You really need to chill out, dont
you? Are you always this anxious?
No, she protests, obviously lying. Theyre not going to evacuate over a
potential bomb threat at the palace?
Consider the source of information, I say. Its my sister. Shes not the most
reliable person ever. Especially since shes obviously high as a kite.
I left my shoe back there, she says, her brow furrowed. Someone is going to
figure out that
I hold up my hand. Figure out what? I ask. That the future princess took a
stroll through the pool house? You need to calm down, luv.
Her eyes flash. God, she really doesnt like being told what to do, does she? I
mentally congratulate myself on getting her to use the word please earlier.
But I want to hear it more. I want to hear it while shes underneath me. My dick
jumps at the thought.
Youre so cavalier about everything, she says.
Thank you.
She wrinkles her nose. That wasnt a compliment.
But Ill take it as one anyway, I say, opening my tuxedo jacket. I have scotch
or weed. Take your pick.
Belles eyebrows go up and she laughs. Youre going to get stoned right here,
outside of the palace?
I have a one of those electronic cigarettes. Its not like Im whipping out a joint.
It hardly smells.
This is not what I thought palace life would be like, Belle says. But she takes a
swig from the flask, grimacing before she hands it back to me.
What? I ask, leaning back against the wall beside her. You never thought it
would be this damn classy, did you?
She laughs. Yeah, right. Classy is exactly how I would describe this
experience.
I take a drag on the vaporizer and hand it to her. This is made of gold, I say.
Thats class, right there.
Ive never gotten high, she says.
I sigh loudly. Why am I not surprised that Little Miss Do-Gooder has never
gotten stoned?
Im not Little Miss Do-Gooder, she says, disgusted. Why are you trying so
hard to corrupt me, anyway?
I turn to face her. Because you need to be corrupted, luv, I say, softly. Tell me
you didnt love all of that tonight.
Her face flushes, and she brings the vaporizer to her lips.
Suck it into your mouth, I instruct her, laughing. Ironically, I have a feeling
thats what Ill be telling you pretty soon.
When she laughs, a vapor cloud blows out her nose and she coughs. If youre
implying that I might blow you soon, youd be mistaken. I am so not blowing you
out here.
Oh, I didnt say out here, luv.
Shit, she says, as two security guards walk down the side of the property in
our direction. She turns and walks quickly toward the palace, while I amble slowly
behind her. I dont bother trying to remind her that Im the Crown Prince my
familys security has caught me doing worse things than smoking weed behind the
palace.
We take the long way around, away from the ballrooms and all the hoopla that
surrounds our parents engagement party. Belle walks in front of me, her bare feet
padding on the thick carpets that line the hallway. A piece of her hair falls out of its
updo, and even though she doesnt look completely disheveled, she looks undone.
Im responsible for that undone state.
I have the irresistible urge to undo her completely.
She looks over her shoulder at me as if she can read my thoughts. Where are we
going?
I look around at my choices of rooms. In here, I say, grabbing her hand and
pulling her down the hallway.
What are you doing? she hisses.
Im not finished with you, I tell her.
No, she whispers, looking up at me with wide eyes. She might say no, but her
eyes betray her. Her pupils are practically the size of saucers, and she runs her
tongue along her lower lip.
No? I ask.
The throne room, Albie? she asks, noting the plaque outside of the room that
Her lips fall open, parting just enough so that I cant help but picture her mouth
wrapped around me.
My dick twitches in response to the very idea.
And yet, the thought of my cock in your mouth makes you wet, doesnt it? I
ask. I know its true. I know shes soaked just by the look she gives me when I ask
the question. I know that underneath that dress, youre throbbing at the thought
of tasting me. Tell me.
Yes, she whispers. I want your cock in my mouth.
I slide forward, the tip of my dick near her face, and her mouth falls open like a
reflex, her tongue on the edge of her lips.
But I dont give her my cock. Not yet. I reach around to the back of her hair, to
that ridiculously appropriate updo of hers, and grab a handful before it tumbles
over her shoulders. I want those sweet lips of yours on me, Belle."
Belle directs her dark eyes to me, watching me as she wraps her hand around the
base of my cock. Her eyes stay on mine while she licks me slowly, her movements
languid as she moves over the head of my cock before she envelopes me in her
mouth.
That mouth.
That warm and wet and perfect mouth.
I groan as she takes me in, running my hands through her hair and pulling it
away from her face so I can watch her work her mouth over me. She makes little
moaning sounds when she sucks me, her eyes closing each time she pulls back on
the length of my cock, like shes savoring the sensation of me in her mouth.
My groan seems to spur her on. She works me over, easing me deeper and
deeper into her mouth until shes practically inhaling me, swallowing me so far
that it's all I can do to keep from coming down the back of her throat. I watch her
head bob up and down on my length, her tongue working magic for what seems like
an eternity until I cant possibly take it any longer. When she brings me to the
edge, I have to grab a handful of hair and wrench her away.
Did I do something wrong? she asks, looking at me with disappointment.
God, no, I whisper. I just dont want to come like that. I want to come inside
you, luv."
24
BELLE
Never, I lie.
He pulls at the fabric on the sides of my dress, lifting it up until it bunches
around my waist, and slips his fingers between my legs. Your body definitely isnt
nervous.
As his fingers slide over my wetness, a whimper escapes my lips, needy and
unbidden. No, I whisper.
Even now, you're still saying no? he asks, a smile tugging at the edges of his
lips.
No, Im not nervous, I lie again. I run my hands over this muscular chest,
flinching as his muscles twitch underneath my palms, then down his well-defined
abs.
Touching him like this, how could I not be a little nervous?
I havent stopped thinking about your pussy since I met you, he says. Tasting
you, touching you, being inside youits consuming me.
I want you inside me, I whisper.
Do you? he asks, sliding his hands under my ass to pick me up. He carries me
toward the throne. Because I seem to recall you saying the words, I wouldnt fuck
you if you were the last prince on earth.
I dont remember saying that, I tease.
I remember exactly what I said.
Dont make me remember that I said that.
No? he asks, setting me down in front of the throne. He spins me around and
yanks the fabric of my skirt up before pulling me against him. His hardness presses
against my ass and the only thing I can think of is how badly I want to feel him
inside me.
Maybe you misheard me, I say, my breath hitching in my throat as his hands
wander over my ass, his fingers spreading me.
Yes, Im sure that's what happened, he says. His warm breath plays along my
neck, and when he sweeps my hair off the nape of my neck, goose bumps sprinkle
my arms. So tell me now, how badly do you want me?
Please, I say, closing my eyes and surrendering to his touch. He plants kisses
along the back of my neck that make me whimper.
I could go. I could tell him no, and turn around and walk away.
I could do the appropriate thing.
But I don't. Instead, I say it again. "Please."
He growls, like an animal, a long low sound in his throat. Get up, he says.
Kneel, on the throne.
I dont even ask why. I dont object, and I dont question.
I just do what he tells me to do.
I kneel on the throne, facing away from him, every inch of my body screaming
for his touch and my pussy throbbing for sweet release.
Im going to take my time with you, Belle, he says, and I cringe at the thought.
I dont want him to take his time with me.
I want to be fucked.
But not today, he says, kneeling behind me on the throne, as if he can read my
mind. Now, Im going to fuck you, the way I think you want to be fucked hard
and fast and filthy.
Yes. I barely choke out the word before hes pressing against my entrance.
"Oh God, yes."
Gripping the sides of the throne, I brace myself as he slides inside me without
hesitation or mercy. His thick hard cock fills me up fully and completely. My hands
find their place on the back of the throne as Albies slide over my hips, gripping me
tightly.
"Oh hell," he says. Its like you were made to fit me.
I murmur something, suddenly rendered incoherent. I can barely register what
he's saying, let alone think rationally, not when he's doing what he's doing with
his cock.
He fucks me, his initial thrusts slow and short, but only for a moment before I
beg him to fuck me harder.
And he does. Gripping my waist, he fucks me with deep, forceful thrusts, his
piercing pressing up against the most sensitive spot inside me.
Thats how you like it, isnt it, luv?
Yes.
I cant speak any other words but that one. Yes.
My head is yanked back as he grips a handful of hair and wraps the length of it
around his hand, sending a shock of pain through my body. And instead of being a
turn-off, the way that I think it would be, its the exact opposite. It intensifies
everything.
He fucks me, his grip on my hair, pulling on it like a leash.
I cant think about anything except his cock.
My whole world right now is his cock.
I accidentally blurt out the word cock, because of course I do. And I
immediately flush with embarrassment when he laughs, the vibration ricocheting
through my body. What, luv? he asks. You were praising my cock?
God, hes such an arrogant prick.
I think those words, but they dont come out of my mouth because I cant
articulate anything except yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Over and over.
Im reduced to an incoherent, babbling idiot who can only say yes.
He grasps my breasts not gently or tenderly. He pinches my nipples between
his thumb and forefingers as he fucks me. And he talks to me, low in my ear, telling
me all the dirty things he wants to do to me. Im going to keep fucking you
because youre mine, Belle."
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
I let go, savoring every sensation that washes over me as he brings me closer and
closer to the edge his hands on my breasts as he pulls me back against him, the
warmth of his breath against my ear, his tongue flicking over the edge of my
earlobe.
And that cock.
Tell me how much you love me fucking you, Belle, he says, his voice strained.
I want to hear you say it.
Oh God, I breathe. Yes, please.
Say it.
Fuck me.
He slaps my ass cheek, the crack loud in the stillness of the room. Say it,
Belle.
Yes.
He delivers a second slap hard against my rear. Fuck, Belle, he says. Say it.
Say you want me to come inside you.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Oh God, yes. Its all I can say, pleasure rolling over me like a tidal wave,
coursing through me from my head to my toes.
He yanks my hair and a shock of pain surges through me. I wantto hearthe
words, he says, his voice gruff.
Then he pauses. He pauses, completely still inside me. Im on the verge of
coming, and I cant remember what he wants me to say. My pussy throbs around
him, my body pleading with him to thrust inside me again.
So I just say please.
Please, I whimper. Make me come.
Fuck. He lets out a loud groan. Touch yourself, Belle. Now.
He thrusts inside me, his movements swift, purposeful. Deep. And with a sense
of urgency. The tip of his cock his piercing presses against me, sending pulse
after pulse of pleasure soaring through me that only intensifies as I move my finger
over my clit, faster and faster.
Everything about this is primal. This is not romantic sex, slow and languid and
loving.
Its fucking.
And it's the best thing on this fucking earth.
Belle, he says, his voice strained. Come for me, Belle. Now.
And I do.
I let go, a loud moan escaping my lips before his hand clamps down over my
mouth to mute me. When he thrusts inside me, saying my name as he brings me
over the edge, I come, harder than I've ever come before. Harder than I could ever
imagine coming. I crash over the edge, blinding white-hot pleasure that obliterates
my awareness of everything else.
Afterward, Im trembling in his arms, my heart racing so fast I think it might
explode. Albie slides his arms around my chest, hugging me to him. Youre
shaking, he whispers.
I dont know why, I say.
Probably because I just had the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life.
He squeezes me tighter against his chest, and puts his lips to the side of my
neck. "Because I blew your fucking mind, luv."
"No one's mind was blown," I lie.
Totally mind-blowing.
What's not mind-blowing is the awkward silence that follows, as my lustaddled brain begins to clear, and the realization of where we are and what we've
just done sets in.
He shrugs back into his tuxedo, and I fix my dress, arrange my hair back into
something vaguely resembling the updo that I came in here with, and steel myself
to do the walk of shame right out of this room.
It's my first time doing a walk of shame, and I'm doing one out of the throne
room in a freaking palace, after screwing my soon-to-be stepbrother.
Classy, Isabella.
I can picture my mother saying the words, her mouth turned down into a scowl.
Actually, no. Scratch that. I can't even begin to imagine how she's react, especially
given the fact that she was "devastated" by my broken engagement.
Fucking Prince Albert on his father's throne really would just be the cherry on
the sundae.
Albie's phone buzzes and he picks it up, mouthing the word "Noah" at me,
while I silently panic at the thought of one of the royal security team looking for us.
How could you be so reckless, Isabella?
I swallow hard to quell the growing feeling of nausea in my belly.
Then Albie turns around and looks at me. "That was Noah," he says.
"Apparently my sister did talk to one of the security team about the remote.
They're doing a sweep of the palace now."
I swear my heart stops beating. "What are you talking about? A sweep of the
palace?" I ask. My voice is high-pitched, more like a squeak. "They're looking for
the remote that goes with thatoh, holy shit."
"The remote to the vibrator?" he asks, chuckling.
The bastard is laughing. He thinks this is funny.
"What's wrong with you?" I hiss. "They're going to bomb sweep the palace, and
that's hilarious to you? They're going to catch us in here. Everything is a joke to
you."
"Relax, Belle," he says. He's calm. Too damn calm. How the hell is he so
composed when they're looking for the remote control to the vibrator that he used
But my feet seem to be rooted in the ground, held there by an invisible force. I
scan the hallway, looking for someone to rescue me from this conversation I don't
want to have.
My mother is the one who does the rescuing, accompanied by two ladies-inwaiting. Those are their actual titles, too. They're really personal assistants, but
retain the ridiculous antiquated titles, for no other reason than that it's apparently
what tradition dictates.
"Mother," I say brightly, breathing a sigh of relief. "You know Erika Matheson."
"I do," she says. "You're Prince Albert's girlfriend, aren't you?"
Girlfriend. Not ex-girlfriend.
"Of course," Erika says, smiling warmly at my mother.
Now I really hate her.
And Albie. Let's not forget about him. I definitely hate Albie, who seems to have
forgotten to mention that Erika is still under the impression they're dating.
I glare at Erika and she apparently takes the hint. "It was lovely speaking with
you, Isabella but I really should be going."
"Miss Matheson?" my mother asks. "Please consider my invitation open-ended.
You're obviously important to the Prince."
"Thank you," she says, smiling smugly. "I will certainly consider it."
"What invitation?" I hiss at my mother as soon as Erika is gone.
"Oh, I invited her to the summer home when we were talking earlier this
evening," Sofia says, waving dismissively. "After the incident tonight, I thought it
better to keep her and the Prince under close watch, if there's something going on
there. Minimize the possibility of scandal before the wedding."
"What incident?" I ask. My chest feels tight. I swear that my lungs have
suddenly decreased in capacity. I can't seem to take in enough air.
My mother leans close, speaking softly. "The bomb scare earlier this evening,"
she whispers. "There was no bomb. The remote was apparently aahemdevice
that was used by the Prince and a romantic paramour."
A romantic paramour.
That would be me.
"What does that have to do with Erika?" I ask stupidly.
My mother looks at me, her head cocked to the side. "Don't be obtuse, Isabella,"
she says. "Erika was obviously personally involved. Now, I must get back to guests.
Go lie down. You're looking a little peaked."
25
ALBIE
"C ome on, man," Price says. "What the hell is your problem lately?"
"What?" I ask. "Nothing. No problem."
"Then you won't mind if I take home both of these girls." He nods toward the
women on the other side of the room, both of whom are perched on the edge of one
of the sleek black modern sofas artfully arranged to create a sitting space. The
redhead waves back before crossing one long leg over the other, her foot tapping in
rhythm with the bass in the club downstairs.
Redheads used to be my favorite.
Used to be.
What the fuck is wrong with me? One screw one filthy as hell night with Little
Miss Do-Gooder and I'm completely preoccupied with her.
There's something messed up with that.
What I should do is get her out of my system. She's been avoiding me ever since
the night of the engagement party, obviously regretting what happened in the
throne room.
"Albie?" Price asks, irritation evident in his tome. "This is exactly my point.
You're not even paying attention to me saying I'm going to screw both of these
girls."
"It's fine."
"Really," he says flatly. "Since when is Prince Albert just not feelin' it?"
"Go," I say, sliding my phone out of my pocket. "Pick up all the girls you want.
With my blessing. Have fun."
Price rolls his eyes. But he turns around, holding his hands up in the air.
"Ladies, I'm all yours."
I open the screen on my cell phone and start typing a message.
Stop avoiding me. You know you want me.
She doesn't respond, which only irritates me. The music in the club downstairs
is getting on my nerves, and I'm watching Price on the other side of the room as he
sits back against the sofa, with his legs spread and girls on either side of him. He
looks like such a jackass.
That's how I used to be.
The fact that I'm thinking in the past tense doesn't escape me.
Belle doesn't respond to my text, until later, when I'm back at the palace.
Obviously I'm replying. So, I'm not avoiding you.
And she's obviously pissy.
I type out my reply.
Good. When you pack for the summerhouse, make sure to leave your panties
behind, because you won't need them.
I pause for a second before hitting the send button. Maybe I should just let it go.
Maybe I should just write off what happened with Belle as an unfortunate
byproduct of our proximity to each other and nothing more.
It was just a convenience fuck.
Or crazy hormones.
Or the fact that she was simply hard up for sex.
Or all of the stress of our parents' engagement.
There are a million excuses for what happened. All of them are stupid as hell. I
wanted Belle when I saw her, and I want her now.
I hit send. She doesn't respond.
26
BELLE
pants.
That's reason enough to not like him.
"Are there any cute guys there, at least?" Raine asks. "A hot, well-built
bodyguard, perhaps?"
The image of Noah, Albie's bodyguard, flashes in my head. Hes attractive,
objectively-speaking. The problem is, when I think of him, I get nothing -- no
heart racing, no nervousness like I'm on the brink of fainting. No sensation of heat
coursing through my body, the way I do at the mere thought of Albie.
"Ok, I'll take your silence as a no, then," Raine says, laughing. "Apparently the
palace doesn't employ hot bodyguards. I don't suppose they employ shirtless pool
boys?"
I choke back a laugh. "No. No shirtless pool boys."
"But theres a sexy prince in the palace."
"Sexy prince?" I ask. My voice seems to go up an octave, or maybe I'm just
imagining things. "No. No. No sexy prince."
"Are you sure you're not into women?" Raine teases. "Because you're sharing a
house with one of the sexiest men in the world, and you apparently just don't think
he's all that."
"I hardly think he's one of the sexiest men in the world," I protest.
I'm lying through my teeth.
"No, literally," she says. "I'm pretty sure People magazine put him on their list
of sexiest men in the world."
My laugh sounds more like a snort. "I'm sure that only made his ego even bigger
than it already was. And since when do you read People magazine?"
"Were backpacking sometimes there are long train rides and I need to catch
up on whats going on in the world, Raine says. "Besides, were not talking about
my enjoyment of perusing gossip magazines. Were talking about the fact that
you're obviously very familiar with the prince."
"Because I know he has a big ego?" I ask.
I know what else the prince has that's big, too. Huge, in fact.
Huge and pierced.
The throbbing between my legs reminds me that my body definitely remembers
what happened with him, even if I keep trying to file the memory away in some
dark recess in the corners of my brain.
"There's something in your voice when you talk about him."
I clear my throat. "There's nothing in my voice," I say. "It's a non-issue. The
prince is a non-entity."
"Non-entity," she says. "Yeah, right. You totally think he's hot."
"I do not."
"You think he's hot and you want to kiss him and hug him and let him put his
penis in you," Raine says in a sing-song voice, laughing.
"Are you twelve?"
"My sense of humor is more like thirteen," she says. "I'm quite mature."
"Later, Belle," she says. "Oh, and one more thing. If you just so happen to get a
look at the prince's dick, I want to know if it's as big as it looks in those photos
online, or if the camera really does add ten pounds."
It's bigger and more impressive in person.
"Never going to happen, Raine."
"Can't fault a girl for asking," she says. "I mean, even if he is part of the
establishment, he's a hot part of the establishment."
27
ALBIE
"Because she doesn't seem like an ex," Belle says. "Am I helping you cheat on
her?"
"You're asking because you don't remember being the one to hook up with me
in the pool house?"
This girl is kind of crazy.
Why the hell do I find her jealousy cute? I should find it irritating, and the
implication that were in a relationship claustrophobia-inducing.
But I dont.
Erika was never jealous of other women, not in this way. Even during the couple
of months we were officially together, she only had a problem with the idea of me
being linked publicly to someone else. She expected me to have little dalliances,
as she called them which, in retrospect, makes sense, since she was having her
own.
Belle sighs. "Of course I remember that," she says.
"You're so jealous."
"I'm not so jealous," she says, rolling her eyes. "I'm saying that I dont want to
be aiding and abetting a cheater."
"Jealous."
"You're so annoying," she says. "This is why I'm in the library, by the way."
"So you can avoid me holding up a mirror to your jealousy?"
"Not jealous."
"Not telling the truth." I sit down beside her on the sofa, too close for comfort
hers or mine. Shoulder to shoulder with her, I catch the faintest whiff of her
perfume. I havent smelled it in days, and I inhale deeply. The scent is already
burned into my brain, and it reminds me of the last time I was close enough to
smell it.
When I had my arms wrapped tightly around her.
When I had my cock buried deeply inside her.
"You're avoiding giving me a straight answer," she says. She's looking at her
book some kind of thriller but I know she's not reading it. She just stares at the
pages, pretending to read, all the while sitting perfectly still. But her chest rises
and falls more quickly than before, as her body betrays how she obviously feels
about me.
"If I give you a straight answer, will you tell me exactly how wet you are right
now?"
"No," she says. But she licks her lip. Her tongue lingers on her lower lip the way
it does when shes aroused.
"Okay, I say. Then I wont tell you how hard I am just sitting here next to you.
Or how I want to reach over there and lift up the side of that little skirt you're
wearing, slide my hand between your legs, and find out for myself exactly how wet
you are."
She crosses one leg over the other, causing her skirt to ride up high on her thigh.
"Nope. Im not wet at all," she says. "And you should go sit on the other side of the
pussy."
She inhales sharply, squeezing reflexively around my cock as I roll my fingers
over her clit. "Yours," she whispers.
"Mine."
Then I withdraw my hand from between her legs. She looks at me, eyes already
pleading, and I think I hear her whimper, but I might be imagining it.
Im not going to give it to her that easily.
Even when she turns toward me, fumbling with the zipper on my pants.
"I'm not finished, luv," I say, pushing her back against the seat. I trail my hand
up her stomach and proclaim it mine.
She tenses underneath my fingertips, but she says what I want her to say.
"Yours."
Tracing the curves of her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, I let my
finger trail lazily over each one. I linger on her nipples, slowly circling them,
watching as they harden to my touch. Mine.
When she answers, its a whisper, breathy as she looks at me. Yours.
At the top of her shoulder, I tug on one of the straps on her sundress. When it
doesnt budge, I take it between my hands and tear it right off her shoulder.
"What are you doing?" she squeals.
Damn, I love that squeal.
I pull the fabric down over her breasts, covering her nipple with my mouth
before she can protest the state of her dress any more. Running my tongue over her
nipple in circles, I only pull away when she moans just a little too loudly. Just in
case I wasnt clear, I say, covering her breast with my palm. This is mine.
"Yours," she whispers, looking at me with hooded eyes.
"This neck," I say, kissing softly along the side of her neck until I reach her ear.
My tongue presses against the place just below her earlobe that I know makes her
wet. "Mine."
"Yours," she says. But this time, it's a groan.
Gripping her jaw, my thumb tracing over the bottom of her lip, I pull the edge of
her lush lip down, and she sucks my finger into her mouth the same way she did
with my cock in the throne room.
My dick throbs its response, straining against the fabric of my pants. I want to
tear off her clothes and plunge my cock inside her right here in the library. But I
force myself to be restrained.
Even though shes aching to be touched, the top of her dress pulled down,
exposing her erect nipples.
Even though shes arching her back, putting her perfect breasts on display.
"Your lips," I say, barely choking out the word. My lust for her is practically
robbing me of any sense at all. "Mine."
"Yours."
I cant wait for her any longer, not when shes saying shes mine.
She barely gets the word out before I bring my mouth down on hers, kissing her
with all of the violence and passion of a man who's ached for the touch of a woman
like Belle.
She lets out a long moan when I kiss her, partially muted by our mouths. I just
can't help myself.
I shouldn't do this in here the truth is, the palace is filled with too many
people who could walk in here at any moment. I should compose myself. I should
take her someplace else, someplace private.
But then she moans like that.
I kiss her the way I've never kissed a woman before. I kiss her like I want to get
lost in her. Because I do.
I want to lose myself in her touch. I want to pull her against me, my hands
tangled in her hair, roaming over her shoulders, cupping her breasts.
This is the kind of kiss that makes me think that I could kiss this girl forever.
When I finally pull away from her, she looks at me with heavy eyes, her
expression clouded by lust and desire. "Albie, I "
"Don't say anything else," I tell her. Im not waiting any longer. Theres a limit
on restraint, and Ive reached mine. Youre going to come on my fingers. Ive been
waiting too long to see you come.
Its only been a few days, she says.
But the laugh is replaced by a groan when I reach between her legs and find her
clit. I dont linger, instead moving my fingers quickly to her entrance. The fact that
shes not wearing panties that she decided not to wear panties, despite being
upset with me doesnt escape my attention. Spread your legs for me, Belle.
Albie, she says, her tone a warning. But she opens her legs.
Belle gasps when I thrust my fingers inside her slick wet pussy. She tries to sit
up, running her hands over my chest before reaching for my belt, but I stop her.
"DON'T," I tell her. "Well get there later. Right now, I need you to come.
My palm pressing against her clit, I stroke her inside with my fingers. She grinds
against my hand when I hit the right spot. "Oh God, Albie," she whispers. Youre
going to make me come too fast.
Thats what I want, I tell her, bending low to take her breast in my mouth. She
grips my hair, pulling my head tighter against her. I work her quickly, pressing
against her, on the spot inside her that sends goose bumps all over her skin.
I refuse to let up. I want her crashing over the edge.
When her head lolls back against the sofa, I tell her to look at me. "I'm just
getting started, luv," I say, my eyes trained on hers as I bring her closer. Her pussy
swells around my fingers, and I know she's not far. "This is just getting started.
Don't hold back. I want you to come for me, so I can take you out of here and fuck
you the way I want to fuck you. I need you to come on me. I cant make it out of this
room without seeing you come."
"Albie," she groans, and I feel the orgasm before she even cries out, bringing my
lips down on hers to mute the sound of her moan. When she comes, its hard. Her
muscles clamp down on my fingers. Her hands claw at my shirt.
I don't wait for her to stop throbbing before I pull my fingers from her. "I'm
taking you to my room and fucking you. I don't want to hear why we shouldn't, or
how we're going to get caught. If you say a word, I'll pick your little ass up and put
you over my shoulder and carry you to my room."
"How are we going to "
I don't wait for her to finish her question. I bend over her, sweeping her up with
my hands on her waist, and throw her over my shoulder before she can finish.
"Albie, stop!" she squeals, pounding her fist on my back as if that's going to
make me put her down.
"Id recommend you shut your mouth before someone walks in here and sees
your bare ass slung over my shoulder," I tell her, smacking her rear for effect. Her
skirt doesn't cover a damn thing, and I don't care.
"You can't walk out in the hallway with me like this," she hisses. "Put me
down."
"Did you think this house doesn't have secret passageways, just like the
palace?" I ask, pressing the panel beside the wall. "Now, be a good girl and stay
put."
"Or what?"
Inside the passageway, the motion-sensors flick on the overhead lights,
illuminating what's more like a regular hallway than the old tunnels underneath
the palace. The echo of my footsteps and our breathing are the only sounds in here
as I walk down the hallway with her on my shoulder. "Or, I'll have to give you
another spanking."
"Are you trying to encourage me not to struggle?"
I slap her ass again for effect, the crack amplified in the tunnel, and she
squirms. "You like that, don't you?"
"No," she says.
So I slap her again, and she lets out a faint grunt in response.
"Liar," I say.
My cock is hard as a rock, and there's nothing I want more than to set her down
and fuck the living hell out of her right now. Instead, I keep walking, letting my
fingers wander as I do, back between her legs to her pussy. I slowly push my fingers
inside her with each step I take. But shes not resisting anymore. Instead, she
moans when my steps jostle her against my shoulder.
"You should put me down," she says.
"Now you're just trying to provoke me."
"Is it working?" she asks.
I slip my fingers from her and deposit her on the ground in front of me, her body
sliding down mine until her feet touch the floor. Pushing her hard against the wall,
I pin her arms behind her. My mouth hovers so close to hers I can feel her breath on
me.
28
BELLE
Bare. Unprotected.
I've never done that with anyone before.
Some punishment.
The idea of feeling Albie bare inside me, his cock ring pressing against me,
makes me so heady with desire that I can't see straight. I can't think straight.
Which explains why I say what I say next.
"I could be a very bad girl."
I think he growls. Actually growls. Like an animal.
He kisses me so hard I taste blood, and his hands yank mine up roughly over my
head and press my palms against the wall. My heart beats wildly in my chest as
every part of me responds to his forceful touch.
When he runs his hand over my body, it's not gentle. And I don't want him to be
gentle. I want him to fuck me like he did in the throne room with wild abandon.
I want to let go.
He abruptly pulls away from me, leaving my lips throbbing from the intensity of
his kiss. "I'm clean," he says, his eyes suddenly soft.
"So am I," I whisper. "I'm on the pill."
But I leave out the most important part.
I've never done it this way with anyone before.
Fuck, Belle.
He lets go of me, unbuckling his pants, and pulling them over his ass. When I
pause to admire his perfect cock and he asks me what Im doing.
Im just looking at what I want," I say.
Hell, you are the sexiest thing when you do that."
"Do what?" I ask. I can't take my eyes off his cock. The overhead lighting in the
passageway glints off of the piercing, and the mere thought of him inside me,
totally unprotected, makes me hotter than it should.
"When you say things like that," he says. He doesn't even pull off his pants. He
slips his hands under my thighs, his fingers pressing into my skin, and holds me up
against the wall, sliding into me in one swift movement.
Then hes inside me, and I cant think of anything else. Theres nothing else
that exists in the entire world apart from the sensation of his cock.
Theres nothing else except his thick head of his cock pressing tightly inside me,
the metal piercing hitting me in just the right spot to send shivers of arousal
rushing through me.
I clench my ankles tightly against his back as he thrusts into me. He yanks my
hands above my head for leverage, our fingers intertwined together, as he thrusts
into me again and again, his movements quick.
From somewhere outside myself, I hear my own moan echoing down the
passageway.
The rational part of me knows this is dangerous. Anyone could walk down the
passageway Albie's bodyguard, his sister, any member of the staff.
The rational part of me knows I should care. It knows I should maintain some
sense of decency, some semblance of control.
But I dont care.
Not when hes fucking me like this, grinding harder into me, as he whispers into
my ear. "I love being bare inside you, Belle."
Not when every part of me is acutely sensitive to him, every inch of me
consumed with how it feels to have him inside me, skin against skin.
Not when all I can think about is the way his piercing feels as it presses against
me when he thrusts inside me, bringing me so much higher, so quickly. Oh my
God.
Its all I can say.
I lose myself in the raw, overpowering pleasure, not caring enough to try to
mute the whimpers that escape my lips.
"Tell me, Belle," he whispers, the guttural undertone of his voice betraying his
need. Hes close. I can tell, even more now that hes bare inside me. His cock is so
swollen, so rigid, so hard.
Im so close. I think if I tell him that, if I speak the words aloud, it will push me
over the edge. Icant.
I barely choke out the words, clinging to the small scrap of lucidity I have left.
He thrusts into me harder. "Tell me, Belle," he says. "I can feel how much you
like it."
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
"Yes."
"Your pussy is so swollen for me. Its so tight, so wet," he says, an edge to his
voice that makes every word sound painful.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
"I'm so close," I whisper.
29
ALBIE
W hen I come back from giving Noah a bullshit excuse for missing whatever the
hell is on the agenda this afternoon some scheduled activity, no doubt, even
though were supposed to be having a relaxing summer Belle is naked.
Belle is naked, in my bedroom.
Shes walking toward the bathroom, her perfect ass toward me, and I stand
there for a second, watching her.
This is the first time Ive seen her totally naked.
She turns and looks over her shoulder. Did you make an excuse for me? she
asks. "Security assigned me a bodyguard, you know."
"I did," I say. "Your bodyguard knows you're here."
"What?" She spins around toward me, looking at me with wide eyes. Her hand is
on her hip, her perky breasts visible now that shes facing me, and I make no
attempt to hide the fact that Im ogling her.
And I dont make any attempt to conceal the raging hard-on I get from looking
at her. Shes the hottest woman Ive ever seen.
"Relax," I say. "I told him you're here because we're discussing my involvement
with the charity work you're going to be doing."
"In your bedroom," she says, scowling. "Noah isn't stupid."
"No," I agree. I'm sure he suspects something is going on between Belle and I.
"But he's very loyal."
She purses her lips for a moment, as if shes considering leaving. Youre
staring at me like Im a piece of meat.
I havent seen you naked before. Im admiring the view, I say. I enjoy looking
at whats mine.
Has anyone told you youre kind of a misogynistic prick?
More times than you think.
She laughs. Im not sure I like someone referring to me as his possession, she
says.
You liked it a few minutes ago, I say, walking past her and pausing long
enough to slap her ass. Just to emphasize the whole misogynistic prick thing.
Besides, Im just stating a fact.
She follows me into the bathroom, standing in the doorway as I turn on the
water in the oversized tub. You think owning me is a fact?
Crossing the room, I keep my eyes on hers as I reach between her legs, my
fingers pressing against her clit. When she inhales, her breasts rise, her nipples
grazing my chest. Youre saying its not? I ask. I thought I left my mark a few
minutes ago.
A crimson flush rises to her cheeks, and she opens her mouth but doesnt speak.
Dont leave your mouth hanging open like that, luv, I say, crossing the
bathroom to shut off the water. It only tempts me.
I dont wait for her to respond before I disrobe and step into the tub.
A bath? she asks, watching me from the door.
Get in.
She pads across the marble floor with light steps, and dips a foot in the water.
You should stop ordering me around.
I wait until she sinks into the water to respond. You should stop doing what I
tell you to do.
Belle sits on the other side of the bathtub, like shes suddenly chaste and trying
to keep something from happening between us. What? she asks, when she
catches me watching her.
Youre nervous.
This is weird.
You mean sitting in a tub with your stepbrother? I ask. What could be weird
about that?
Stop calling yourself that.
I only do it because youre so hung up on it.
Im not hung up on it.
Sitting in the tub with my wife, then.
Belles eyes widen, but the corners of her mouth curl up and she splashes me
playfully with water. I told you not to call me that, either.
I thought we already established you dont do the telling here, luv.
She laughs. You have some major control issues.
Im a prince, I say. What do you expect? And I already know you enjoy being
told what to do, despite your protests otherwise.
Do not.
Come here.
She smiles and arches an eyebrow. And what if I dont?"
"Come over here," I tell her.
It's not a question. There's no trace of a question in my tone.
She studies me for a long time before relenting, sliding across the expansive tub
until she's face-to-face with me. "And?"
"Turn around."
"Why?" she asks, but she turns before I can answer. Pulling her back tightly, I
press my hardness against her.
"Because I want to feel you against me." I slide my hands over her arms, across
her breasts, down her stomach. When my lips hover near her neck, she tilts her
head to the side, responding to my touch, and I breathe her in deeply.
"Did you just smell me?"
"No."
"You totally just smelled me. I heard you sniff."
"I like the way you smell."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh."
She finally relaxes in my arms, as I run my palms over her taut stomach. When
she leans her head back against my chest, I sit there, holding her for a long time.
The rational part of my brain tells me I should get the hell out of this bathtub.
I should get the hell away from her.
This feels too much like something more than it can be.
Im not this man, the one sitting in the bathtub holding a girl like this.
Im not this man, whos sitting here still, in one place with Belle.
Im not this man who feels content.
"You love this place, Belle says abruptly.
I love being here with her.
What place?
This whole thing, she says. The summer house.
We all used to love it here -- Alex, especially. Now, not so much all of her
friends are in hotter cities, and theres no club scene here.
We had a place on Cape Cod like this, she says. I mean, not like this place. It
was a small summer home, my fathers first huge purchase after his company
became really big. He kept it, even after he was really wealthy and could get a huge
place in the Hamptons or whatever. She pauses for a long moment before
speaking again. He was a good man. It was hard for my mother, after he died.
It was sudden, I say. I looked up the stories about her fathers death, but that
doesnt mean I know how it was for her when it happened.
"It happened on a Friday night when my parents were out at dinner. He was
having chest pain all afternoon. My mother had a hard time after that," she says.
"She wasn't always sopoliticalyou know. She used to be warmer than she is
now."
I think she makes my father happy, I tell her honestly. She seems to care
about him, and thats good for him. He wasnt the same after my mother died."
"What was your mother like?"
"Joyful," I tell her. "She had a way of making the huge palace feel like a home.
She knew everyone by name all the staff, and the names of their kids. She knew
who had an aging parent or sick child. Everyone loved her, my father most of all.
The cancer took her joy away slowly. It bled the life from her. I think it did the same
to my father. Until your mother came along."
"I hope she makes him happy," Belle says.
"I hope so too," I tell her. "Alex and I have been a disappointment to him."
"Albie," she says, her voice tender. "I'm sure that's not true."
"You can't ever live up to a ghost," I say. "Anyway, I don't want to talk about our
parents anymore."
"Then what should we talk about?" she asks softly.
Turn around.
She does it without protest, sliding onto my lap, and I bring my lips to hers. I
kiss her tenderly, softly, my tongue finding hers like its finding its way home. I
kiss her like that for far too long until she breaks away from me. No more
talking, I say.
Belle smiles, her hands around the back of my neck. She raises herself up so that
she's looking down at me with her breasts in my face. Hovering above me with one
leg on either side of me, she reaches between my legs and wraps her hand around
the base of my cock. Teasing me, she rubs the head of my cock against her clit.
Whatever should we do, then?
This. I reach up to grab a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, and I pull her
face down to mine, my other hand grasping her hip. I lower her onto my cock, her
slick wet pussy so tight I cant imagine anything in the world better than being
inside her. Shes warm and wet; the water in the tub hasnt washed that away.
Belle moans my name. Her eyes close, and when she leans forward with her
forehead near mine, her hair falls around our faces like a curtain, the ends curling
into the water and dragging it down.
When she rocks against me, pushing my cock deep inside her, she throws her
head back. It drives me crazy, the way she looks with her eyes closed and her head
tilted, like shes savoring the sensation of my cock inside her. "You love it," I say.
"You love the way my cock feels in your tight pussy."
"Yes," she murmurs. "I love the way you feel."
"This slick wet pussy is mine," I say. Im not sure if Im reassuring her or
myself. My hands explore her breasts as she picks up momentum. Having this girl
riding me, taking her pleasure from me, makes me want to explode inside her.
"Yes," she says. Then she moans the word again when I take her breast in my
mouth, my tongue flicking slow circles over her nipple.
Yes.
I pull her close, my hands roaming her back and arms, fingers tangling in her
hair as she rides me, gripping then flesh of her ass. This ass is mine.
Yours, she breathes.
All of it, I tell her. I spread her ass cheeks as she fucks me, and push my finger
against her asshole.
When she registers my touch she gasps, inhaling sharply and looking at me with
wide eyes. Ive never
I know, I say. But I want all of you. Every inch of you is mine. Say it.
Yours, she whispers, pushing me deeper inside her. I press my finger against
her asshole, slowly, letting her get used to the sensation. She rocks on my cock,
riding me at her own pace, only once hesitating. I revel in the way her expression
changes, the way she winces at my finger initially, but then lets go, pain changing
to unabashed pleasure. Albie, she whispers. Thats sogood.
Relax, luv, I tell her. I want to fill all of you.
She whimpers, then moans louder as she lets go. She throws her head back,
beginning to lose control. My finger pressed just slightly inside her tight hole, I let
her ride me until I can feel her on edge, her pussy swelling around me.
When she makes the little whimpering noises that signals she's close, I pull her
off my cock and stand, my hands on her waist.
What are you doing?
I step out of the tub and reach for her. She stands on the floor for a second
before I wrap her in a giant white towel, then slide one hand behind her knees and
lift her off her feet. "I want you out here."
"I'm dripping wet," she protests while I turn to reach inside the bedside table.
When she sees what I have, her hand flies to her mouth. Oh my God, what are you
doing?
I told you I want all of you, luv.
I dont know if I can she starts, but her voice trails off, her eyes fixated on
me as I apply lubricant to the butt plug.
All of you, I say. I want everything.
She squeals when I climb onto the bed, but her legs spread immediately, like a
reflex. Ive never done this before, Albie, she says.
Ill take it slow, I tell her. Unless you want me to stop.
She takes her lower lip between her teeth, and shakes her head. No. Dont
stop, she says softly. I want you to have all of me.
But before that, I have to taste her. Belle arches up her hips to meet me as I bend
down to bring my lips to her sweet pussy. Her taste fresh and sweet makes me
want to be inside her, but I resist the urge, taking my time with her.
Savoring her.
Exploring her.
When I finally bring the plug up to her ass and press it against her hole, she
moans. For a second, I think shes crying out in pain, but then she speaks. Im so
close, Albie, she whispers.
I fuck her with my tongue as I push the plug slowly inside her tight hole. Her
knees tighten around my head as I fuck her.
Until she finally relaxes and accepts everything.
Until shes filled to the hilt with the sex toy.
She grasps at my hair. Shit, Albie, she says, her words punctuated by gasps.
Im going to come.
I bring my face away from between her legs, sliding up her body until the head of
my cock presses against her slick entrance. You dont come until I say you do,
luv, I tell her. I tease her with the head of my cock, pushing inside her but only an
inch. Her pussy quivers around me. Understand?
She squirms on the bed, which I know only has the effect of pushing the plug
deeper inside her ass. Yes.
Do you want me? I ask, pressing further inside her before stopping.
Yes, she whispers, arching her hips up again. I was so close.
"Tell me how close," I say, not moving. I want to hear how close you were.
I was going to come, she whispers.
When? I ask. Tell me.
She moans. When you put the plug in my ass, she says. When your tongue
was inside me.
I thrust all the way into her in one movement, finding her hands and pinning
them over her head for leverage. Fucking her with deep thrusts, I watch the
expression change on her face as she experiences the sensation of having the plug
inside her. Tell me how good it feels to be completely filled up, I say.
So good. She lets out a little grunt that I know means shes hurtling toward
the same place again. Shes so tight, so wet, that I struggle to maintain coherence.
So, so good.
Youre so close now, I say as I thrust inside her. But I dont want you to
come. Not yet.
Not even if the thought of you opening yourself to me makes me want to come
inside you right now.
My cock swells, and I want to release everything I have in her. But I can't resist
making her wait. I cant help but enjoy telling her when to come. I can't help but
enjoy making her release control to me. Even if I can barely hold out.
"Oh God," she moans. "Please?"
"Please what?"
"Please let me come," she whispers, and I feel her pussy muscles flutter around
me. She's losing control.
"Not yet," I tell her, thrusting inside her until I'm on the verge of explosion.
"You know that Im going to take you completely. Im going to claim your ass.
Oh my God, she whispers.
Tell me how much you want to feel me inside you, I say. All of you. Tell me
how much you want me to fuck that tight little virgin asshole.
Oh fuck, Albie.
Tell me.
I want you to be yours, she says. Completely.
Its enough.
Come for me, luv, I groan, barely able to get out the words before I let go
inside her, blinding white-hot light as I fill her up. Her muscles clamp down around
me, and she starts to cry out, but I keep her from doing it, kissing her as she moans
into me.
It feels like forever until she milks every last drop from me.
Afterward, she looks up at me, her chest still rising and falling, and her breath
short. "Oh my God, Albie."
30
BELLE
secret passageway leading from my room. Oh my God. You nearly just gave me a
heart attack, I say, picking up a pillow from the bed and throwing it at him.
"Besides, what if someone had been in here?
"You were in your own little world over there," he says, crossing the room to
reach me. He slides his hands around my waist. "I knocked and I tried to call you,
but you didn't hear me."
"You need to go," I whisper, pushing him back. "My bodyguard will probably be
knocking on the door any minute now."
"Simon," he says.
"You know his name?" I ask. My attention is split between Albie and the outfits
I'm supposed to choose between that are lying on the bed. "Did you check him
out?"
"Of course I did," Albie says. "I can't have just anyone looking after you. Noah
assures me he's solid."
"How protective and also slightly misogynistic of you."
"Careful with the big words, luv," he says. "Me caveman. No understand big
words."
I stick out my tongue at him before looking back at my outfit choices. "I'm going
to be late," I say.
"So you don't want me to help you get dressed, then," he says, pulling me
against his hardness. Heat pools between my legs, but I push him away.
"Your version of getting dressed involves fewer articles of clothing than mine
does," I say, laughing even as he reaches for the hem of my t-shirt and yanks it
over my head.
"You should be in fewer articles of clothing," he says. His hands run up my back
to unhook my bra but I wriggle away.
"I need my bra, thanks," I say.
"But you don't need those pants." He reaches for the button on my jeans and I
smack his hands.
31
ALBIE
I haven't been inside a hospital since my mother was sick. We had our own royal
physicians, of course, and round-the-clock care for her from the best oncologists
and physicians in Europe.
But once, toward the end, things got really bad, and she was brought to the
military hospital in our capitol for treatment. There are all of these protocols for
something like that, an entire wing at the hospital cleared for a member of the
royal family, windows covered in brown paper in the hallways as a precaution in
case of assassination attempt.
During a moment of lucidity, my mother laughed at the irony of security trying
to prevent her assassination, given her terminal illness.
That was the only time Ive been in a hospital.
I can still remember how it smelled antiseptic and stale, the rooms pumped
full of so much air conditioning that it almost felt colder inside the hospital room
than outside in the chilly winter air.
I cant forget the intermittent beeping and whirring of the machines.
For a moment, standing just inside the pediatric oncology ward, I think that
coming here with Belle was a mistake.
When I see the kids in various stages of cancer treatment, all I can think about is
my mother's death.
Belle is beside me. She meets my gaze and I think she knows whats going
through my head.
Then she squats down to talk to a little girl, who laughs as Belle reaches out and
takes her hand and walks toward a group of kids. And I'm jerked out of my self-pity
by a little boy who wants to know if I really live in a palace, and whether or not I
own any race cars.
We spend a couple of hours reading stories and answering questions about royal
life (Do you have a crown? Do you have glass slippers? Do you sleep on a
dozen mattresses? directed at Belle, who furrows her forehead for a moment
before realizing that its a reference to the Princess and the Pea fairytale).
Seeing Belle with the children makes me feel good, even though the setting
brings up bad memories. Youre a natural with the kids, I tell her as we walk out
the door.
Outside, she immediately tenses when a small group of photographers rush
toward us, their cameras clicking away. I pause, whispering to Belle to wave, and
she stands beside me, smiles, and waves.
Once inside the car, she slumps back against the seat. "Thank you," she says,
her voice wavering. She clasps her hands together, her fingernails digging into the
back of her hand.
"I told you that you wouldn't have to answer questions," I say. "Just smile and
wave."
"No," she says, turning to face me. "Thank you for that, too. But, I mean, thank
you for going there. It couldn't have been easy for you, with the way your mother
died. You were really good with the kids."
I nod. Belle seems to have an uncanny way of anticipating how I feel about
things. I'm not sure whether to be unsettled by that or pleased with it.
When she reaches for my hand, her face forward and not saying a word, I don't
even flinch.
Contentment used to be a strange feeling. Yet, with Belle, its somehow starting
to become a familiar one.
32
BELLE
I m sorry I wasnt able to make it today, Belle, my mother says, setting down
for him. I have something for you, he says, turning to open his bag.
Should I be scared?
He turns, a purple plastic object attached to a harness dangling from his fingers.
What is that?
I want you to wear this, he says, kneeling at my feet. I want you to wear
this.
What is it?
A vibrator, he says, sliding the harness up my legs, his hands brushing lightly
along my thighs.
If you think Im wearing this to another party, youre out of your mind, I
protest. But I cant help the moan that escapes my lips when he reaches my pussy.
Before he puts the vibrator on me, he pauses to press his mouth against my clit,
rolling his tongue over me.
When I press his head against me, he pulls away, replacing his lips with the
vibrator. Disappointment rushes through me. Not here, luv, he says. Dont
worry. Ill have my mouth on you soon enough.
Are you going to tell me where were going?
That would spoil the surprise.
But youre outfitting me with a vibrator, I whisper.
Im not done yet, luv, he says, standing as he flicks on the vibrator with his
remote. The buzzing directly on my clit sends pleasure soaring through my body.
Albie brushes his fingers against my pussy lips. Youre wet already. Dirty girl.
Dirty girl.
Albie is definitely turning me into one.
My inhibitions are being slowly stripped away by this man who seems to have no
inhibitions of his own.
He reaches into his bag and removes a butt plug and lubricant. Arousal rushes
through me at the sight of the objects he used on me before. But my lingering sense
of propriety makes me protest. Im not going out in public with that, Albie, I
whisper.
Semi-public, he says, kneeling at my feet again, his face hovering inches from
my pussy. When he brings the toy to my rear, I tense, even with the vibration
surging through my clit.
Not even semi-public, I say.
Its just the two of us, he says. I promise. Away from the palace. Do you trust
me?
He grins as he looks up at me, and I sigh. Id have to be crazy to trust you.
You do strike me as rather insane, he says. Now, spread your legs for me,
luv.
I dont know why I listen to him.
I dont know why its so thrilling to obey Albies commands.
I dont know why I step a foot to the side, my legs spread, the vibrator teasing
my clit.
I just do it.
The air feels cool on my wet pussy.
God, you look gorgeous from down here, Albie says. With one hand, he slides
two fingers inside me and with the other, he presses the plug against my asshole.
Hes gentle with it, slowly maneuvering the lubricated toy inside me while his
fingers play with my pussy. The stimulation is almost unbearable, the pleasure
nearly too much as he fills me up to the hilt with the plug.
On the floor kneeling between my legs, he strokes me with his fingers while the
vibrator does its work on my clit. The sensation of being completely filled up is
almost too over-stimulating. Within seconds, Im nearly doubled over, clutching
his head and clinging to him as my orgasm overtakes me, sudden and violent in its
intensity.
My muscles clench furiously around Albies fingers, but he has no mercy. He
turns the vibrator off, sliding his fingers from between my legs before Im ready. I
watch as he puts them in his mouth and licks them clean. Ill finish this later, he
says. Im planning to have you for dessert.
And Im going to wear this wherever were going? I ask. The throbbing
between my legs is distracting, so much so that I cant think clearly. Im not sure
why its so thrilling when he tells me what to do.
Albie disappears into the closet and returns with an armful of clothing. Youre
going to wear that, he says. I want you to be ready for me.
I dont know why Im agreeing to this.
In fact, I dont know why Im agreeing to any of this with Albie. Hes pushing my
boundaries beyond what Id ever considered, much less tried.
Standing in my royal bedroom wearing a butt plug and a harness with a vibrator
is beyond my comfort zone.
Or so I thought.
Because you like it, Belle, he says.
When I reach for the simple sundress hes holding, he pulls it away and kisses
my lips softly instead. Let me, he says. I like taking care of you.
Then he dresses me.
Slowly and methodically, he slides the dress over my head. The fabric caresses
my skin as it falls over my body.
Id never guess that putting clothes on could be sexy as hell, but Albie has a way
of making the process of getting dressed more erotic than removing clothes. Of
course, the fact that I have a vibrator pressing against my clit and a butt plug in my
ass might have something to do with the heat level here.
We make our way out of the palace through the secret passageway, and Albie
flicks on the vibrator in intervals, enough to keep me aroused but not send me
hurtling over the edge. Walking with the plug inside me is the strangest sensation
Ive ever experienced, simultaneously uncomfortable and arousing.
I move slowly and carefully, my steps measured. My entire body feels like its on
high alert as Albie leads me quietly out of the house, across the immaculately
manicured lawn, and towards the densely wooded land surrounding the estate.
Its dusk, but the canopy of trees in the woods makes it even darker than it was
just a minute ago when we were on the lawn. Okay, this is getting slightly creepy,
I say, only half-joking.
Only slightly? he asks. Ill have to try harder.
We walk along a path thats less manicured than the rest of the property,
winding past the trees until we cant see the main house any longer.
Are you going to tell me where were going now? I ask. In response, he flicks
on the vibrator, laughing when I grip his arm tightly, my fingernails digging into
his skin. I pause in the middle of the trail, unmoving, as the vibration sends waves
of pleasure through me.
Were almost there, he says.
Youre going to make me come, I protest.
Youre not allowed to come yet, luv. He stands close to me, pushing my hair
back from my face. His lips hover millimeters away from mine, but when I arch my
back up to meet them, he denies me, and puts a finger on my lips. Its right
around the bend here.
We reach the place a few minutes later, and I stand there, wordlessly taking it in.
Technically it's a tree house, although its not like any tree house Ive ever seen
before. Its the size of a cottage, two-stories tall with a balcony on the upper level,
built so that it rests between several trees twenty feet high. A wooden walkway
with elaborately carved railings winds down from the doorway to the ground and
curves around to meet the pathway. Two lanterns trim the opening of the walkway,
casting a golden glow on the path.
In a word, its magical.
What is this place? I ask.
Come on. He pulls me up the walkway that leads to the door, and I follow him,
completely mesmerized by this little house in the trees. My father had this built
for Alex and I when we were kids.
This was your tree house?" I ask, shaking my head in disbelief as I take it in.
Its just as breathtaking on the inside, rustic and wooden with huge windows that
overlook the surrounding forest. And upstairs, theres a loft bedroom with a ceiling
made of glass panels a window looking out to the sky.
Its not a regular tree house, I know, Albie says, shrugging. When my father
does something, he goes big. Alex never really liked it much out here. She was
always too scared to come out in the woods. So this became my place. Ive never
brought anyone out here before.
I tear my gaze away from the star-dotted sky and turn to face him. Why me? I
ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
No sooner do the words leave my mouth, than Im filled with regret for asking
them. Fear clutches at my chest. Im afraid of what he might say. And more afraid
to admit to myself what Im starting to feel for him.
Albie tilts my face up to his. But when he opens his mouth to speak, I stop him.
rub my clit harder. The pleasure balances out the discomfort Im feeling.
Belle, he groans, pushing further inside. This tight little virgin ass is mine.
You are mine.
Im yours. I gasp when he moves again, white-hot pain searing through me.
Reach further down, Belle, he orders, his voice strained. Slide your fingers
into your pussy.
Mutely I obey, fingering myself with my palm pressed against my clit, moaning
as the pleasure obscures the pain. The sensations are overwhelming, but I feel
myself relaxing as Albie fills me up completely. When hes finally inside, his balls
tight against my ass cheeks, he stays there, unmoving, as I adjust to the sensation.
Are you okay? he asks. You feel so fucking amazing, Belle. He sweeps my
hair over my back, applying kisses to my neck.
My eyes are watery, stinging with tears, yet Im on the edge of orgasm, pushed
close by the exquisite sensation of being completely full. Yes, I groan. Please.
More.
Im hardly coherent as he begins to move inside my ass, slowly, each movement
sending a stinging pain through my body. He runs a hand over my breast, taking
my nipple between his fingers and squeezing it until Im racked with pleasure. He
moves slowly for what seems like forever, until theres no more pain, only pleasure
rippling through my body. All of you is mine, Belle, he says.
Yes.
Give yourself to me, he says.
Im yours.
Im so close.
Fuck me harder, I gasp, and he does, his hands gripping my hips tightly. I
know hes keeping himself restrained, fearful of hurting me, and I still want more.
On my stomach, fucking myself with my fingers while he thrusts into my ass, I let
go.
I let myself be completely taken by this man. I feel only unbridled lust.
I feel free.
Shit, Belle, Im going to come in this tight little ass of yours, he says, his voice
gruff as he slams into me, his full, heavy balls against my ass cheeks. Tell me you
want to feel me fill your sweet little virgin asshole with cum.
Hes filthy.
On the outside, hes the ultimate in well-bred, with the ultimate pedigree. Yet
the things he says to me are the filthiest things I can imagine.
No one talks to me this way. No ones ever talked to me this way.
And, so help me, it makes me fucking wet.
Please, I beg, shoving my fingers deeper inside my pussy. I can hear myself
panting in the stillness of the room, my breath short like Im some kind of animal,
but I dont care.
All I care about is sweet release.
Say it, Belle, he says, smacking my ass cheek. The loud slap reverberates
33
ALBIE
B elle and I have been sneaking around for a month now. Its a miracle we havent
gotten caught. The bodyguards suspect something, Im sure. Nothing gets past
Noah, but he hasnt said a word. He just nods and gives me a look when I make one
of my many excuses before disappearing. He likes Belle, though; I can tell. But he
hasnt said a word.
Ive gotten lots of crap from Price for avoiding the social scene, the clubs and
bullshit and picking up women.
I thought Id get tired of Belle. When I hooked up with her the first time, I swore
to myself it would be a one-time only thing. Wed screw and get it out of our
systems, and that would be that. Thats how its gone before. Every other time in
my life, its been that way. Im fine with bedding a girl and then walking away.
Every time but this time.
Belle is an addiction. Shes a drug I cant get enough of. I cant stop fucking her
taking her in the secret passageways that separate our rooms, in the tree house in
the woods, up against the wall in the library, or on the sofa in the observatory. I
want my mouth on hers, my cock inside her all the time.
But the most unfamiliar feeling of all is that I want her outside of the bedroom. I
find myself wanting to know what she wants from life, the things that make her
happy.
She likes tea but not coffee. She scrapes the frosting off cake before she eats it.
Only eats the top half of a muffin. Snorts when she laughs, then clasps her hand
over her mouth to hide it.
She wants to help people. She has opinions about world politics and government
policy. She lies on her back in my bed at two in the morning, her head in the crook
of my arm, talking about things she wants from life, gesturing animatedly and
trying to keep her voice low.
Ive never laid in bed and listened to anyone talk at two in the morning before.
But this girlI find myself hanging on every word that rolls off her tongue.
As the summer draws to a close, my father and Belles mother have been busier
with the wedding preparations. The royal wedding is the political-social event of
the decade in Protrovia, after all. The retreat to the summerhouse has become less
of a retreat than the headquarters for wedding planning central, with Sofia
Kensington as the general.
Alexandra is bitter about it. Today, she and I are sitting outside on teak lounge
chairs in the middle of the gardens, a sprawling labyrinth of flowers and fountains
that spreads out across the lawn behind the house. Belle is at the hospital, reading
stories to the children on the pediatric cancer ward.
Belle has been going to the hospital every week for the past month, despite the
PR teams opinion that it was beneath her as a princess. She should do charity
work, they said, just not volunteer work. Belle rolled her eyes and told the PR team
that it was up to them to figure out how best to spin her regular volunteer work,
because she was going to continue what she was doing. Whether they liked it or
not.
Albie, Alexandra says, as she scrolls through social media on her phone. She's
slouched in the chair, her feet kicked over the edge. You know we could just ditch
out on the wedding.
I give her a look. I dont think Sofia is that bad, I say. Dad really loves her,
and we're not going to skip the wedding. That would be terrible, and would hurt our
father, and I dont think youre that hateful of a person.
Alex rolls her eyes. Sofia is stuffy, she says. And shes too interested in
politics. Mom was never interested in politics.
Dont you want him to be happy?
Alex gives me a scathing look. You mean instead of disappointed with us?
Maybe hes not disappointed. Belles voice cuts through the air. She stands
behind us, silhouetted by the sun and looking radiant in a light yellow cotton dress.
The dress is perfectly appropriate, chaste-looking even, reaching down below her
knees.
And it has the effect of making me totally hard.
Alex laughs. Yeah, well, no offense, but youve only been around this place for
like a minute.
Belle shrugs as she sits down on the edge of one of the teak chairs opposite me,
crossing her legs at the ankles. I try to look at her casually, like a disinterested,
friendly soon-to-be-sibling, but I'm afraid I'm staring. What I really want to do is
pick her up and carry her to my bedroom. Or kick Alex out of here and have my way
with Belle right here and now. And that is why Im saying something, she says.
As an outsider. Maybe he just worries about you guys.
He hates all of my friends.
You mean, like Finn Asher? I ask. No offense, but that guy is an idiot.
Well, maybe I like him, Alex huffs.
We both know thats not true, I say, looking at her meaningfully. Her face
turns beet red, and she stands up, her expression contorted in anger.
Whatever, Albie, she says, picking up her phone and huffing off, without
another word.
What was that about? Belle asks.
tongue inside you, licking youhow much I wanted your taste on my lips
Albie she moans softly.
I love hearing you moan my name. I slide my finger from her and replace it
with my mouth, my tongue exploring her, teasing her, rolling over and over her
clit. Shes like nothing Ive ever had before, and I cant get enough of her.
But when I pull away from her and stand, she groans. Dont tease me, she
whispers.
I told you I was thinking about you sitting on my face, I tell her. Thats where
I want you.
Belle looks around. Her breath is still short, her breasts rising and falling quickly
underneath her dress. Out here?
Out here, I say.
In the grass?
Stop being so prissy, I say. Youre not a princess yet.
Im not being prissy, she says, huffing. Youre asking me to sit on your face,
outside in broad daylight.
Im asking you to sit on my face and put my cock in your mouth, I whisper, my
lips near her ear. Outside in broad daylight. And I know the thought makes you
wet.
Youre a bad influence on me, she whispers, her hands running down my
chest.
I hope so, I say.
Despite her protest, she straddles me on the ground without further objection.
The fabric of her skirt falls around my face and tents me. She rises up on her knees,
hovering over my mouth, her movements tentative as she pulls up the front of her
skirt and peers between her legs at me. Is this okay?
Her hesitation makes me laugh. Stop worrying, and wrap your lips around my
cock.
God, youre so crude.
I know you worship me, but really, you dont need to refer to me as a deity, I
say, pulling her down onto my face before she can object. I enjoy the little squeal
she lets out when my mouth covers her pussy. I lose myself in her taste, in the fact
that she doesnt do what I say immediately, doesnt reach down and pull my cock
out of my pants and wrap her lips around it. She sits up, riding my face, her hips
grinding against me as I eat her.
I imagine what she looks like sitting on my face out here in the garden, her
hands running over her breasts, her head tossed back so that her hair spills over
her shoulders and down her back. The image of her riding me outside here,
throwing yet another inhibition to the wind, makes me want to explode.
When she reaches between my legs, unzipping my pants and wrapping her
fingers around my cock, I think I actually might explode at her touch.
Her mouth is like heaven. Its warm and wet and she takes me in deeper than
she has before, so deep that I swear I cant go any farther. Then she pulls back,
stroking the base of my cock and teasing me with an open mouth. The head of my
cock hits her tongue. Look at all that pre-cum, she whispers.
I pull her away from my mouth so I can speak, knowing my warm breath on her
pussy will only make her hotter. I want to hear how much you love the taste.
She laughs, pushing her pussy down onto my face to shut me up, and I eat her
greedily. I thrust my tongue inside her until shes bucking against me, beginning to
lose control as she strokes me, her movements jerky. When she finally brings her
tongue back to the head of my cock, she rolls it over and over, licking me.
Tasting me.
I love the way it tastes, she says, her voice husky. She rubs her finger on the
head, massaging the tip before sliding her hand down the shaft. Youre so full.
Your balls are so heavy. I know you want to come. I want you to come for me.
Fuck.
She wraps her lips around my cock, stroking me in short hard bursts as I devour
her pussy. Shes not holding back any longer. All of her inhibitions are gone. Now,
she fucks my face with abandon, grinding against me as I lick her clit, sucking even
harder when I slide my fingers inside her pussy, one finger pressing against her
asshole.
I cant stop thinking about the filthy way she just talked to me.
I love the way it tastes.
I know you want to come.
She moans as she sucks me, her pussy swollen around my fingertips. I cant hold
back any longer. My balls clench tightly, and I let go, flooding her mouth. As soon
as I do, I hear her scream her orgasm. The sound is muffled by my cock and she
grinds her pussy against my face as she comes.
Afterward, she crawls away from my face on her hands and knees, looking over
her shoulder at me as she straddles me with her legs on either side of my face.
What are you doing to me?
The better question is what is Belle doing to me? This girl is consuming me,
taking possession of everything I am.
And I think I like it.
34
BELLE
I roll over. Albies naked chest is underneath me, and I'm still half-asleep as I
listen to the beating of his heart underneath my ear. Mid-morning light streams
through the windows in my room.
My bedroom.
Albie.
Shit.
Oh my God, Albie, I hiss, unable to hide the panic in my voice. I sit bolt
upright in bed. You need to get back to your room. You fell asleep in here last
night.
Albie groans as he rolls over and pulls me against his hardness. Mmm-hmm,
he says. His fingers find their way down my stomach and between my legs. Just
five more minutes.
No, I insist. Seriously. Noah is going to realize youre not in your room.
Killjoy, he says, slapping me on the ass before he slides out of bed.
Were getting too comfortable, I call to his retreating form as he disappears
into the bathroom.
Were getting way too comfortable, far too blatant in our sneaking around. Its
one thing to be hooking up the way weve been, but spending the night? Thats just
dangerous.
Its an unacceptable risk.
Albie ambles slowly across the bedroom to pick up his pants and shirt from the
floor. He doesnt appear the least bit concerned about being caught wearing the
same clothes he wore yesterday, doing a royal walk of shame back to his room, even
if its through the secret passageway. You worry too much, he says.
You dont worry enough.
Life is too short to worry, he says. In fact, I have something that might ease
your anxiety.
That is not going to help my anxiety, I say, laughing as he walks to the bed
and starts to climb on top of me. I push playfully at his chest. Youre going to get
us in trouble. That doesnt help me feel less anxious.
No? he asks, bringing his mouth to a spot just below my ear. A chill runs up
35
ALBIE
W heres
She asks the question without waiting for a response before putting her hand on
Belles back and turning her around to casually direct her through the crowd.
I stand there watching Belle walk away, like this whole thing is a damn train
wreck, because thats what it is.
Alex elbows me. You saw that, right?
I saw it, I say, my voice the epitome of calm. But thats only on the outside.
So Belle just walked off to meet her cheating ex-fianc who wants to get back
together with her, Alex says. She sets her empty champagne glass down as a
caterer passes with a tray and turns back to me. And youre standing in here.
Where else would I be?
How about someplace like punching Derek in the fucking face?
Alex raises her eyebrows. I dont know, maybe stopping her from getting back
together with him?
Why would I do that, Alex? I whisper.
Alex cocks her head to the side as she looks at me. I dont know, she says.
Maybe because you like her.
I never said I liked her.
Yeah, right, Alex says. You guys have been obsessed with each other since
she got here.
Says the girl whos pointedly ignoring the bodyguard she clearly has a thing
for?
Alex crosses her arms over her chest. Its not the same thing.
Uh-huh.
So youre just going to let her run off with her crappy ex, Alex whispers.
Im not letting her do anything, I say, my tone low. Belle is capable of
making her own decisions.
Youre so stubborn.
Go talk to Max.
Fuck off, big brother.
Love you, little sister.
I walk away as Alex flips me off while pretending to scratch the side of her face.
Outside of the ballroom, I walk down the hallway, fully intending to go straight to
my room.
I should just let it go. I know I should.
That would be the appropriate thing to do.
It would be the royal thing to do. Were taught, from the very beginning, to do
whats appropriate, to maintain bearing above all.
Our name is all we have. Thats what my father would say.
I can think of few things that are worse ways of ruining my familys name, or my
fathers legacy, than falling for my stepsister.
Belle is her own person. She should make her own decision. And if that decision
happens to involve getting back together with the jackass who was stupid enough
to cheat on her, then so be it.
The rational part of me knows that letting it go would be the mature thing to do.
I stand in the middle of the hallway for a long minute.
Maybe Im not that mature after all.
36
BELLE
I know I screwed up, Isabella. Derek stands in front of me with his hands in his
37
ALBIE
W ont you please excuse us for a moment? my father asks. He stands with his
back turned toward me on the other side of the library, the first room far
away enough from the ballroom to be assured of privacy. The royal physician
hovers over me, pulling at my forehead as he does a cursory examination.
Im fine, I say, an edge in my voice. Is Belle all right? She fainted.
Shell be okay, Doctor Evanston says. Youre going to need a few stitches
above your eyebrow. I can do it, but to minimize scarring, I think we should call in a
plastic surgeon.
Plastic surgeon, my father scoffs. Is my son going to bleed to death in the
next few minutes?
Of course not, Your Royal
Then wont you please give us a few minutes.
Yes, Your Majesty.
The door shuts, leaving my father and I alone in the room. I know what hes
going to say. I can already anticipate it.
I should be embarrassed, ashamed of myself for displaying utter and complete
lack of royal bearing.
I should be worried about Belles ex-fiancs accusation that Belle and I are
together.
I should be concerned about what my father will think. Or what Belles mother
will think. Or what the public will think.
But I dont fucking care.
What the hell were you thinking? my father asks. He doesnt look at me.
I was thinking that Belles ex is an asshole who deserved to be punched in the
mouth for the shit he was saying about her.
My father turns around slowly. You are not eighteen, he bellows. Youre not
a child. And youre not a normal person. How long is it going to take you before you
understand that? Youre a prince. Getting into a bar room brawl in the middle of a
charity event is not something that a member of the royal family of Protrovia does.
Its not something the Crown Prince of Protrovia does!
Sorry to disappoint, I say sarcastically.
What in the world would possess you to do such a thing? he asks. All of the
things youve done, the tabloid headlines and filth theyve printed in the papers I
thought youd left that all behind when you joined the Army.
He called her a cunt, I spit. My father flinches at the crudeness of the word. I
wonder if anyones ever said the word cunt in front of the King of Protrovia before. I
guess theres a first time for everything in life, isnt there?
Some part of me, a warped part, finds that amusing.
I think I might be a little delirious.
I dont care what he called her, my father says. Did you even stop to think for
a moment before you hit him? Prince Albert of Protrovia assaults a guest of the
royal family itll be all over the newspapers tomorrow.
Im sorry itll distract from the PR pieces about the wedding, I say.
I thought the Army changed you, he continues. I thought it instilled some
sense of responsibility in you. But I can see that nothings changed at all. Youre
still the same immature, irresponsible boy who has no appreciation for
consequences no appreciation for tradition and family and
I stand up, the blood rushing to my head. What the hell would you have done, if
some guy were saying things about mom? I yell. Im supposed to stand there,
while some asshole talks about Belle that way?
Its not the same thing, he roars. Youre not married to Isabella. Shes barely
family, not even your stepsist
Shes my wife! I yell, rising to my feet, my hands balled into fists at my side.
Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, anger surging through me, and I dont
realize what Ive said until I hear the words, practically echoing in the space
between us.
Shes my wife.
Shit.
This is a bell that cant be un-rung.
My father stands there unmoving, just looking at me. For a minute, I think hes
so angry, hes going to hit me. Ive rarely seen my father lose his temper, hardly
ever deviating from the staid and steadfast King that he is.
But right now, hes angry. Really angry.
What exactly are you talking about? he growls. His face is crimson. Ive never
seen him this upset.
Yet I cant seem to stop the words that come out of my mouth. I could take them
back. I could simply say that I misspoke. But I dont want to. I want him to know.
Belle and I, I say. I married her. We are married.
38
BELLE
T he back of my head throbs where I hit it when I fell. Ive insisted I was okay
practically a thousand times, yet no less than five members of the royal staff have
checked on me approximately a thousand times since I fainted, even though the
physician said a concussion was unlikely.
Unlikely, but twenty-four hours of bed rest as a precaution.
Ive texted Albie, but he hasnt responded. The doctor said that Albie was fine,
simply banged up and needed a few stitches.
Stitches.
Because he punched Derek in the face for calling me a cunt.
Im not sure whether to be flattered that Albie stepped in to defend me, or
pissed off that he threw caution to the wind and got into a fight over me in front of
everyone.
Youre fucking that spoiled prick.
Your own stepbrother.
Dereks words echo in my head, over and over on repeat like theyre playing on a
loop.
I text Albie again. For a second, I consider sneaking through the secret
passageway to go see him, but that would be too risky. There will be doctors and his
security and too many people around now.
Instead, I lie against the pillow for a second and close my eyes. Just for a minute,
I tell myself.
Pound.
Pound.
Pound.
I blink my eyes once, twice, three times, willing the pounding in my head to go
away.
Then I realize that its not in my head. Its coming from the door to my bedroom.
And theres daylight streaming through the windows.
I must have fallen asleep.
Isabella Kensington. The door to my room swings open, and my mother blows
inside like a tornado.
Crap.
My stomach sinks. She didnt come to see me last night after the doctor
examined me. The lecture I expected to get something about decorum and
propriety and how I ruined my own charity event by being at the center of a brawl
between my ex-fianc and my new stepbrother never materialized.
Instead, Im getting that lecture first thing in the morning. Before Ive even had
a cup of coffee.
I hold up my hand. I dont want to hear it, mother, I say. You had no right to
invite Derek to the event.
Derek, she says, her voice going up practically an octave. You think this is
about Derek?
My head is throbbing and I want to take a shower, I say, avoiding her gaze. I
sit up on the edge of the bed. Save the lecture. You invited my ex-fianc who
cheated on me to my charity function and I embarrassed you. Id say were about
even.
I slide my legs over, about to stand up when my mother stops me by waving a
newspaper through the air.
You think I care about your and Derek's little fight? she asks, her voice shrill.
This, Isabella. This is what is plastered all over the headlines this morning. This is
whats all over the internet. Read it.
"What is it?"
Then she holds it up in front of my face.
Prince's Secret Shocker: Its A Family Affair!
MarriedTo His New Sister! The Story The Royal Family Doesn't Want You To
Read!
I rip the paper from her hands, my stomach queasy as I skim the article, bits and
pieces of phrases jumping off the page at me. A source close to the palace confirms
that Isabella Kensington and Prince Albert have been sneaking around the palace
for months nowmarried in a Las Vegas ceremony at a wedding chapel, by an Elvis
impersonator
My heart sinks.
Oh God.
"It's true, Isabella," she says, ripping the newspaper out of my hands and
throwing it on the ground like it's contaminated. "Don't try to tell me it's not.
Royal Intelligence did their own digging around."
Fantastic.
"It was a joke."
"You didn't see fit to mention any of this when you showed up here?" Sofia asks,
her voice shrill, nearly a squeak at this point. "You didn't think that perhaps you
might have wanted to mention that you'd met Albert before that you married him
something tawdry.
I haven't even sorted out how I feel about Albie, whether its just fantastic sex,
or whether the way he makes me feel means its everything.
And I cant figure that out with the entire world watching us.
I just cant.
39
ALBIE
I had to talk to you, before all ofwhatever the hell is going to happen today."
Every word I utter seems to be punctuated by the pounding base drum playing in
my head right now, but all I can think about is what's going through Belle's mind as
she stands in front of me.
Belle lookstired. And worried.
"You have to go," she says, her voice strained. "Christine or someone else from
the PR team is going to be here in my room any second now."
"Belle."
She looks away from me. "No," she says. "You shouldn't be in here."
"Belle, look at me." I walk across the room and take her hands in mine. "This
doesn't change anything."
"What are you talking about?" she asks, her voice high-pitched. "Of course it
does. It changes everything."
"It'll be fine," I tell her. I'm not sure whether I'm lying more for her benefit, or
for mine. "It's just "
"My mother came in here," she says. "She accused us of destroying her
relationship with your father. It's in the papers, Albie. Its all over the internet.
"That part wasn't me," I say. "Look, I told my father, but Derek or someone at
the party must have leaked the rest to the press, or gotten them interested enough
to really start digging."
"You told your father?" She shakes off my hands and slowly steps backward,
looking at me with a horrified expression.
"I told him we got married," I say.
I left out the rest.
I'm fucking Belle.
I can't stop thinking about Belle.
I think I might be in love with Belle.
"How could you do that?" she asks, her brow furrowed. She brings her hand to
her mouth as she shakes her head. "Get out."
"Belle," I start. "I don't care who knows."
"You don't care?" she yells, choking on her words. I think she might cry, but she
doesn't. She looks at me, angry. "Didn't you ever think about whether I might
care? Or what it would mean to your parents?"
"Aren't you tired of hiding from everyone?" I ask. "It's out in the open now."
Whats out in the open? she asks. The fact that were fucking? You had no
right to put it out there, to decide that I wanted that out in the open. My sex life
our sex life -- is no one elses business.
We did a little more than just screw, Belle, I say.
Maybe thats all it is to her. Maybe all its been is screwing.
We got married in Vegas while we were drunk, she says. We had a little fun
screwing around after that. But thats all it is.
Is that all it is?
Her jaw clenches, and she looks away. Thats all it has to be.
"Are you getting back with that asshole fianc?" I ask.
"What?" she squeals. "Are you insane? Of course not. This isn't about Derek."
"That guy doesn't deserve you."
I want to deserve you.
"I didn't need rescuing," she says. "You just you ran in there and punched
him, out of some misguided notion that you needed to defend my honor and now
everything's out in the open. Everyone knows, Albie."
"I know you don't need rescuing," I say. My frustration is mounting. "I was
coming down here to tell you that fuck, this is not how I saw this conversation
going."
I dont want my romantic exploits spread all over the media!
"You think I wanted this all over the papers, Belle?" I ask.
"I don't know what you "
The knock at the door interrupts whatever she was going to say, and she looks
with something like regret before walking to the door and opening it. She pulls
open the door, apparently not caring if someone sees me in here with her.
Christine, the head of the PR team, looks back and forth between us, obviously
uncertain about what's going on. "Oh," Christine says. "If you're busy"
"It's fine," Belle says.
Its the opposite of fine. Everything right now is as un-fine as it can get.
"Great." Christine looks at her notepad, barely glancing at Belle and I.
"Obviously, Erika is on her way here."
"Erika who?"
"The girlfriend," she says.
I hold up my hand. "She's not my girlfriend," I say. "And why in the world is she
on her way here?"
"Girlfriend or not, she's your best way of explaining this entire thing away, and
"
"Get out." Belle's voice is firm, echoing through her room.
"Erika is not coming here," I say. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. If
that's the PR plan here, that's ridiculous."
"Get out, please," Belle says. She doesn't look at either of us. "Now."
"Erika will stand by your side," Christine says. "We've already leaked your
engagement to the press."
"You did what?" I yell. "Who in the world told you to do that?"
"Get out!" Belle screams. Everything goes silent. "Now. Get the hell out of my
room, Christine."
"Belle, I " I start. I want to grab her by the arms and tell her that all of this will
be fine. None of it means anything to me.
"You too," she says. "Just go."
Christine is on me immediately, nonstop talking as she takes my arm before we
even leave Belle's room. But I don't hear a word she says.
The only thing I care about right now is Belle.
When I glance behind me at her as I walk away, she pauses for a moment in the
doorway, and her eyes meet mine.
I try to shake off the sinking feeling that I get as she closes the door.
Shes closing the door on us.
40
BELLE
"I 've done a lot of crazy shit," Raine says, "But this is way up there in terms of
nuts, Belle. We didn't see any reporters, though, so that's good."
"Let's just get out of here." I exhale heavily, looking behind me at the summer
house on the hill. The guard posted at the exit from the secret passageway saw me
when I left, a weekend bag slung over my shoulder containing everything I'd need,
at least for now. I half-expected him to stop me, to drag me back up to the house
like a prisoner. But he didn't.
It was just like any other time I'd left the palace grounds.
Except that this isnt any other time. This time, Im sneaking out,
unaccompanied by a bodyguard or a driver.
This time, Raine and Phoenix were waiting just across the street in a banged-up
little car they'd bought to drive around Europe, duffel bags strapped to the top with
bungee cords.
This time isnt like the other times Ive left to volunteer at the hospital. This
time, Im not going back.
I cant believe you got out of there without anyone knowing, Phoenix says.
Youd think they would have better security.
I learned from the best, I say, thinking of Albie. For a moment, I want to go
back. I want to tell him that I dont care what anyone thinks. Besides, Im not a
prisoner there.
"Are you sure you want to leave?" Raine asks. She sits in the back seat with me,
Phoenix in the drivers seat.
Am I sure?
Im as far from sure as I can be.
Yes.
Raine reaches for my hand. "I'm sure they have a plan to deal with the media,
you know. It doesn't have to be a huge deal. You could hide out in the palace or
whatever."
"No," I say, my voice flat. "I justit's too much attention. I can't think right
now."
Raine squeezes my hand. "What about Prince Albert?" she asks.
41
ALBIE
" W hat do you mean, she's gone?" I ask. I pull out my phone and text Belle, but I
hear the buzz of the phone in the room, and Noah holds it up. "Is that hers?"
"It's hers, sir," he says. "She left it in her room. I took the liberty of retrieving it
before the head of security got to her bedroom, since I thought there might be
things on her phone you might not want made public."
"She's gone," I say again, stupidly. I can't get it through my head.
"Yes."
"She took everything with her?"
"She took a bag," Noah says. "She evaded Simon and walked out of the gate."
She's gone.
"She left a note, sir," he says, handing me the folded sheet of paper. I open it.
I'm sorry, Albie. I just...can't stay.
Love,
Belle.
I crumple it up into a ball in my hand and look at him. "Where?"
"With Raine," he says. "One of her friends from Africa."
"I know who Raine is," I snap.
"Royal Intelligence will get a lock on Raine's phone, I'm sure. Do you want to
know where Belle and Raine are when they do?"
Do I want to know where she is?
She's the one who left, who ran from all of this.
She left her phone behind. She doesn't want to be found.
"Yes," I say, blurting out my response before I even think about it.
She doesn't want me to find her.
I should just let her walk away.
"No," I say. "Never mind. No, I don't want to know."
Noah looks at me for a long minute before speaking. "Sir," he starts, then
shakes his head. "Oh, fuck it. I'm going to say my piece. Prince Albert. I've known
you for a long time, and I've seen you with a lot of women. I mean, seriously. A lot
of women."
"Noah," I warn.
"My point is this," he says. "I've seen you with a lot of women, but none like
Belle. She loves you and you love her. It's apparent to anyone who sees you
together, and if it isn't apparent, well, then they're fucking blind."
"She should have fucking stayed," I say, more anger in my words than I
expected.
"She's scared," Noah says, his voice softening.
So am I. But I didn't run away.
I can't believe she just left. Without so much as a goodbye.
I'm angry at her for leaving, but I'm more angry at our parents especially Sofia
for deciding that the best response would be for the PR team to descend on Belle
like a swarm of locusts. And I'm angry at myself for telling my father about the
Vegas marriage.
I don't even wait until dinner to see my father and Sofia. Instead, I go straight to
the King's wing of the house, where he and Sofia sit inside the living room of their
suite, Sofia on an armchair surrounded by a copy of every newspaper and magazine
available, splayed out on a coffee table.
Our faces are plastered across the front page of all of them, a million different
headlines, all of them promising tales of scandal.
"Albert," Sofia says. "There you are. I knew you'd see reason. See, Leo? We've
been discussing a plan for PR."
"You know she's gone," I say. "You drove her away. With all of your concern
about image and PR and bringing in Erika Belle left."
"I'm sorry about Erika," she says. "I didn't think it would be such a big deal."
"You didn't think it would be such a big deal?" I ask, shaking my head in
disbelief.
"At the engagement party, I'd heard you and Erika had" Her voice trails off,
and her cheeks redden. They actually redden. Maybe the woman doesn't have ice in
her veins after all.
"That we'd fucked?" I ask, not caring about the use of vulgarity in front of the
soon-to-be-Queen or my father. "No, Sofia, it wasn't Erika I screwed at the
engagement party. It was your daughter."
"Albert!" my father booms, his voice echoing in the room. "That will be quite
enough."
"I don't think so," I say. "I married Belle. And it wasn't anything in the
beginning, but now it is. Was. Maybe it's past tense; I don't know. All I know is that
I don't care about all of this. I don't care whether you approve or not."
"The wedding is weeks away," Sofia protests. "It's obscene, right before the "
"You know what?" I don't even know what I'm saying before I say it. None of
this is planned or thought out. It should be. It would be more mature that way,
more reasonable. "Screw the wedding. And -- "
A single knock interrupts what I'm about to say, the 'screw the throne' rant I'm
about to dive headfirst into, and Alex bursts into the room. "Get out, Alex," I say.
Im sleeping with Max.
Oh my, Sophia says, her hand over her chest. Apparently today this family is
all about disclosing way too much personal information. Whos Max?
Hes my bodyguard, Alex says, her tone imperious. She turns around and
points as Max follows her into the room and stops short, looking back and forth
between us.
Oh shit, Max says, only partly under his breath.
Youve got that right, Sophia says.
So if youre mad at Albie, you can be mad at me, too, Alex says. Did you tell
them youre in love with Belle?
Sofia looks at us her eyes wide. "You're not in love with Belle," she says.
"Oh please," Alex huffs. "He's in love with her. I've never seen him look at
anyone the way he looks at her. And now she's off running around Europe because
he didn't have the balls to tell her how he felt."
"Didn't have the balls to tell her?" I ask. "She went running off before I could
even say "
"You heard what I said," Alex says. "No balls. You missed your shot with her.
And she ran off because she didn't want all the drama."
"You mean, all of this drama?"
"Silence!" my father yells, his voice cutting through our bickering. "The two of
you are not children anymore, so stop acting like it!"
"I didn't even do anything!" Alex squeals. "I'm trying to tell him what's good
for him."
"Enough!" My father yells in the voice that we all know means business. He
walks over to the bar against the wall and pours himself a glass of scotch from the
crystal decanter, his movements slow and deliberate.
None of us speak.
Alex and I watch as he sips from the glass, then sets the tumbler down on the
bar. He places his palms on the top of the bar, standing with his shoulders slumped
as if he's carrying the weight of the world.
For a minute, I feel terrible. For all of his flaws, my father has always been a
good man. Now hes found happiness with someone, something that's eluded him
since my mothers death, and Alex and I are in here driving him into an early grave.
Do you love her? my father asks, without turning around.
Leo! Sofia says. "You can't be seriously entertaining this idea."
Do you love her? he repeats.
Do I love her?
Obviously, he does, Alex interrupts.
Alex, my father warns. Stay out of this.
I love her, I say. Its the first time Ive said the words out loud.
It's the first time I've been certain of it.
42
BELLE
Y ou could go back, you know, Raine says, sipping her coffee. Were sitting at a
caf in downtown Budapest, people-watching. Raine's boyfriend is
sightseeing with a group of people from the hostel, probably shooed away by Raine
so that she could interrogate me about Albie.
Seriously, Im totally fine, I say. Its an obvious lie, yet I feel the need to say it.
I feel the need to convince myself of that fact. Im having fun.
Youre having a terrible time, she says. You should go back to him.
After I flipped out and went running away? I ask. I can't. Besides, its Albie.
Hes the playboy prince. There are plenty of women who will be throwing
themselves at him. Im sure hes moved on already.
Youre so full of shit, Belle, she says.
Im not! Youre the one who knows all about his exploits in the tabloids.
Those are the tabloids, she says. We both know that stuff is only partly
true.
I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. Please, I say. The stuff I
read about Albie was mostly true.
But that was before you met.
And itll be true again, after me.
You dont believe that, she says.
I don't know what to believe," I say. "I'm sure he hates me now."
Go to him, she says. Tell him that you were stupid and foolish and impulsive
and you ran because thats what you do.
What? I squeal. Because thats what I do? I dont do that.
Belle. Raine sips her coffee and gives me a knowing look. I love you. But you
know Im right.
I roll my eyes at her and exhale heavily. Okay, I run. I ran. I fucked up.
As I speak the words, my heart sinks, because I know theyre true. I fucked up. I
was falling for Albie and I got scared and ran. And now its messed up.
Do you love him?
My mother is marrying his father, Raine, I say, shaking my head. The whole
world is watching us."
43
ALBIE
T his is fucking ridiculous, Alex yells from the backseat of the SUV. "Dad is
going to kill us when he finds out we all took off and that you guys are with
us."
"He won't kill us," Noah says. "I'm sure he has people to do that for him."
"You're always looking at the bright side of things, Noah," Alex says. "It's
probably why you and my brother get along so well."
"At least you'll be dead and not fired," Noah says.
"No one is getting murdered or fired." My voice has a hard edge I can't quite
keep out of it. I'm more nervous than I should be right now at the prospect of
tracking down Belle. I should be excited. Isn't that how you're supposed to feel
when you tell a woman you love her?
Instead, I feel edgy and irritable.
Part of me is afraid she's going to tell me to go to hell.
Or worse, she'll tell me she doesn't feel the same, and that it's been about the
sex all along.
"How far is Budapest exactly?" Alex asks. "We should have just taken the
helicopter."
"It's one thing to sneak out of a tea party in the helicopter, but another to try to
be stealthy about flying to Budapest," I say. "It's only a couple of hours anyway."
"We couldn't get the exact location from the head of security," Max says.
"Budapest was as far as they could narrow it down."
"Why don't you call Raine?" Alex asks. "Or are you going for a big dramatic
entrance?
"The girl who bursts into our father's room and announces she's sleeping with
her bodyguard is giving me shit about drama?" I ask.
"I was trying to take some of the heat off of you," she protests. Obviously, it
was a miscalculated move on my part.
No shit, Max says.
If dad didnt kill Max after you told him you were sleeping with Max, then all of
us will be just fine, I note.
Thanks, Max says. I think.
Im not going to call Raine, I tell Alex. Not until were actually in Budapest.
So Belle cant run, Alex says.
So Belle cant run.
She makes it sound like Im tracking Belle down like some kind of fugitive.
Shell want to see you, Noah says.
Totally, Alex says, her voice unnaturally bright.
I focus my eyes straight ahead on the road. This conversation isnt helping at
all.
44
BELLE
B eer, Raine says, handing me a glass. Its medicinal. Spending all night
worrying isnt going to do anything for you. Well go back to Protrovia in the
morning.
Right now, you medicate with food and beer, Phoenix says. Its therapeutic.
Fine, fine. I study my menu, but my head is spinning, my thoughts focused on
all of the things I need to say to Albie.
Why the hell didnt I just tell him I loved him when I was in Protrovia?
Raines phone buzzes, and Phoenix groans loudly as Raine looks at the screen.
We said no phones during dinner, he says, grabbing it from her hand.
Give that back to me now, she insists, slapping him playfully on the arm. Its
important.
Its important? he asks, holding up the phone, but she snaps it out of his
hand. What do you think, Belle? Raine buys us the next round of beers since shes
on the phone during dinner?
Raine looks up from the phone long enough to glare at us, before burying her
head and furiously texting.
Yes, definitely, I say absently, still thinking about what Im going to say to
Albie tomorrow. The next round of beers is on Raine.
Im going to remember you gave me grief about this, Raine says.
Why? I ask. But Im immediately distracted by the waitress coming over to
take our orders, and then Phoenix orders more beer and he's telling me stories
about their adventures over the summer.
Im finishing my dinner and Im on my second beer when Raine and Phoenix
look up, their eyes focused behind me. I hear the chatter of other diners in the
restaurant, people whispering and pointing.
Belle.
Id recognize his voice anywhere.
I stand up and turn around slowly, my heart beating wildly in my chest. Albie.
Hes standing there, holding a pink box. A few feet behind him are Alex, Noah,
and Max. The bodyguards stand there nonchalantly, but Alex looks like a kid on
Christmas morning, her hands clasped together.
Thats the most romantic thing Ive ever heard, I say, with a laugh. I hear a
whoop behind us, but everyone fades into a blur as Albie brings his lips down hard
on mine. He kisses me like its been forever since he last touched me, even though
its only been days, and I feel myself melting against him.
Like hes where I belong.
Because thats the truth. I belong with him.
When he pulls away, he grabs one side of the box as it starts to fall. Dont lose
that, luv, he says. Wouldnt want the press getting that photo.
I cant believe Im in love with someone who brings this as a grand gesture, I
say, my hand firmly on the lid of the box.
And you thought princes were classy, he says.
I was misled by the fairy tales.
Are we going to stand here all night watching the two of you talk? Alex shouts.
So Albie kisses me again, his arm wrapping around my lower back and pulling
me tightly against him as I try to balance the box in one hand, nearly failing. I push
him away, laughing.
Are you scared? Albie whispers. Everyone is watching us, you know.
Terrified, I say, as he grabs my hand.
Thats only partly true. Im terrified and excited and content, all at the same
time.
Thats that prince, I hear a woman call through the crowd. And his
stepsister!
His hand on mine, he turns with me to face the restaurant. I apologize for
interrupting everyones dinner, he says, squeezing my hand. But I hope that
picking up your dinner tabs will make up for the inconvenience.
Several guys in the back of the restaurant hold up their beers and whoop loudly,
before the room erupts in applause. Camera flashes go off, and I can see some
diners holding up their phones to record. Normally, all of the attention would make
me want to crawl into a hole and hide, but right now, Im practically floating on a
cloud.
Albie holds up his hand, and the room goes quiet. I just ask for one more
minute of your time, he says. You may or may not know who I am
Yeah, youre that fucking prince, an obviously drunk man in the restaurant
yells, and Albie chuckles.
Thats me, he says, amid laughter from the crowd. That fucking prince, in
some circles. Ive been in the news recently. Well, weve been in the headlines,
recently, Belle and I. Weve caused quite a scandal.
Now, the room goes quiet, everyones attention on Albie.
And I have something to say about that scandal, he says. This is Belle. You
might not know her, because shes not the attention whore that Ive been. In fact,
for the last two years, she hasnt even been on this continent. But I hope that shell
let the public get to know her, in the future. Shes brilliant, and funny, and the
kindest person Ive ever met. And for some bizarre reason, she likes me.
45
ALBIE
B elle and I have a suite in the nicest hotel in Budapest. My phone is off, no doubt
being bombarded with social media notifications. Outside the window, paparazzi
from various European newspapers have gathered near the hotel entrance, waiting
to catch Belle and I together.
My father and Sofia are going to be less than pleased with my public
announcement, no doubt. Before we left, my father asked if I loved Belle. If I did, he
said, I had his blessing.
Im assuming that his blessing didnt extend to running off to Budapest and
giving a very public, not-approved-by-the-PR-team statement.
But I dont care. That fact alone makes me less than royal. But so be it.
The door to the bathroom opens just a crack, and Belle peers out. Are you
ready? she asks.
Im naked and sitting in this chair, I say. Does that count?
Close your eyes.
Youre getting awfully bossy, I tell her.
Are your eyes closed?
Fine.
Shes silent for a minute before she speaks. Okay, open them.
Holy fucking shit, I say, my words punctuated with laughter. Belle, the
woman I just called brilliant, funny, and kind in front of the whole world, is
wearing the bright pink pony tail butt plug I gave her.
Shes bent over, so that only her ass and the tail are visible from the side of the
bathroom door.
And shes shaking her ass, the tail swinging from side to side in the doorway.
Its ridiculous.
And strangely, really fucking hot.
I hear her giggle, and then she peers out from the doorway. Are you laughing at
my tail? she asks. This was a present from you.
Come out here so I can see it, I tell her, still laughing and shaking my head.
Your dick is totally hard, she says, hands on her hips. I knew you had a secret
fetish.
I do, I tell her, sitting on the edge of the armchair with my cock in my hand.
My secret fetish is you. Although now that I look at you, that tail does look really
hot. Turn around so I can see it.
A slow smile spreads across Belles face, and she turns around, arching her back
to display her ass, the tail draped across her rear. And? Do you like what you see?
On your hands and knees, I say. So I can fully appreciate it.
She turns around to face me, her hands still on her hips, her perfect breasts
visible to me. For a second, I think she might slap me. But she doesnt.
She gives me a smug satisfied look and drops to the ground on her knees. Her
eyes are on me the entire time. I stroke the length of my cock as I watch her place
her hands gently on the ground.
Before crawling across the floor on her hands and knees toward me.
Wearing a pink pony-tail butt plug.
She pauses in between my legs, her face below my cock. Fuck, shes
breathtaking.
Should I neigh or something? she asks.
I laugh. Please do not neigh.
Hey, youre the one with the fetish.
I already told you what my fetish was, luv, I say, reaching down to slide my
fingers underneath her chin. She rises up, her hands sliding up my legs but not
touching me. You.
Ive never been anyones fetish before, she whispers, her hand replacing mine
on my shaft. Her eyes on mine, she strokes my length, her touch whisper soft and
the most erotic thing Ive ever felt.
Get used to it.
When she puts her tongue to me, its the best thing on earth. She touches the
tip of her tongue to the head of my cock, before licking the length of my shaft like
its a damn lollipop. Its only been a couple of days without her mouth on me,
without being inside her, and Im already to the point of exploding at her touch.
I thread my fingers through her hair, pulling her away from my cock the second
she envelops me with her warm mouth. No, I tell her. This isnt the way I want
you right now.
She frowns at me. Maybe its the way I want you.
I cant prevent the growl that escapes my lips when she says that. Little Miss Do
Gooder telling me she wants my cock in her mouthits almost more than I can
take.
You cant always get what you want, luv, I tell her.
Says the prince who always gets what he wants.
What can I say? I ask. Im royalty. And right now what I want is for you to
stand up and bring your pussy over here so I can eat you the way Ive been thinking
about eating you.
She looks up at me with an impish grin. You think Im just going to do
everything you tell me to do?
I think youre going to do this, I say. Well work on the rest later.
Belle smiles as she stands, and I run my hands up her thighs, pulling her against
me. My hands travel over her ass, and when they brush against the tail, she laughs.
She stops laughing when I slide down, pulling her to my mouth.
When I taste her, I cant help but sigh. She tastes like everything thats right in
my world.
She stands, her legs spread, while I take my time with her, my tongue exploring
her pussy, savoring the taste of her wetness on my lips. Oh, Albie, she whispers,
her hands against my head, pulling me tighter to her. I missed this.
I missed all of this, I say, sliding my fingers inside her. Shes so wet for me, so
ready, that it makes me groan.
I missed this clit, I say, leaning forward and taking it in my mouth, sucking on
it as I stroke her inside until I hear the hitch in her breath that means shes close.
I look up at her. Her eyes are closed, her head tilted back, her breasts moving
with each breath she takes. She looks like perfection. I missed this pussy, I say,
stroking her gently, feeling her body respond to every movement I make.
I kiss her abdomen, running my hand over her skin, trying to memorize the
surface of her. I missed this stomach.
She makes a little whimpering sound, half a moan and half as if shes trying to
say my name, but I dont stop. I run my palm up farther, caressing her breasts with
my hand, watching her nipples harden underneath my fingertips.
I missed these breasts, I say.
Albie, she whispers.
And I missed this ass, I tell her, gripping a handful of her cheek, my fingers
pushing against the plug, and she moans, the sound coming from low in her throat.
Albie, youre going to make me Her voice trails off, but even if it hadnt, I
wouldnt let her finish.
No, I say. Youre not getting off that easily.
Belle whines, biting the edge of her lip as she looks down at me. Her pussy
throbs around me, and I know shes close. Please?
She knows begging is my weakness. There's nothing on earth as fantastic as
hearing Belle woman beg. Please what?
Please make me come, Albie, she says, her voice breathy.
I don't think so, luv. Not yet."
"Please."
There she goes with the please again.
I slip my fingers from her. "I don't want you to come that way, luv," I tell her. "I
want you to come on my cock, the way I haven't been able to stop thinking about."
On the bed, I pull her down on top of me. When she slides onto my cock, it's
pure heaven. "You're so wet and ready for me," I say, my hands traveling across her
waist, gripping her hips as she rocks slowly on me, the way I know she likes.
But she doesn't need time to warm up. She only rides me slowly for a few
minutes, before she's gathering momentum, her head lolling back and her breasts
46
BELLE
I lay on my side, my head tucked into the crook of Albie's arm, the way I've gotten
comfortable, my finger tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Can we stay like this
forever?" I ask.
"Hole up in this hotel and live on room service?" Albie asks. "I think that can be
arranged."
"It's like your own private kingdom."
"Ill be the master of my hotel room," Albie says.
"Is your father going to disown you?" I ask.
Albie pushes my hair away from my forehead, his touch gentle. "No," he says.
"He asked if I loved you, you know. I went to tell him and your mother, before I
left."
"Did he flip out?" I ask.
And the better question: Did my mother flip out?
"He doesn't know we're here exactly," Albie says, chuckling. "But he asked if I
was in love with you and I said yes."
"Thats it?
"He said he was young and headstrong and stubborn once, too," Albie says.
"When he was with your mother.
"It was his way of giving us his blessing."
"You know that my mother is not going to give us her blessing," I note.
"No more talk about our parents or tabloids or scandal or the paparazzi standing
outside the hotel downstairs or "
"There are photographers outside?" I squeal.
"We just caused a rather large scandal, you know, he says, tilting my chin up to
bring my lips to his.
Then I dont care about the scandal. I dont care what his father or my mother
think.
I dont care that hes royalty.
I only care about this moment with him.
Albie rolls me over, pinning me underneath him, his hands pulling mine over
my head. No more talk, he says, pressing his hardness against my leg. Unless
about this being gold, Belle? he asks, as the head of the cock enters me.
No, I moan. The initial shock of the cool metal against my skin gives way as he
enters me, heat rushing through me.
Metal conducts heat, he whispers, thrusting it inside me. Hes right. It warms
almost immediately, the sensation different from anything Ive ever felt before. "It
vibrates, you know."
Oh my God, I gasp, as he turns it on.
But youre not going to come, luv, he says. Youre not going to come from
that. Not until I say you can, do you understand?
Yes.
Not until Im inside you completely, he says, unwrapping a condom. Do you
trust me?
Yes.
Reach between your legs, luv, he says, and I replace my hand with his, holding
the dildo in place. Im going to leave the piercing in.
Oh fuck. I dont realize Ive spoken the words aloud until I hear Albie chuckle,
the sound low in his throat.
Do you trust me, luv? he asks, as he applies a healthy amount of lube to his
cock. Behind me, he caresses my ass, and my heart races in anticipation of what
hes going to do.
I trust you. My breath hitches in my throat. Weve done this before, but not
with his piercing, and not like this on my hands and knees, giving him even more
control, the ability to fuck me as deep and as hard as he wants.
Good, he says. The tip of his cock presses against my ass. I can still feel the
piercing through the condom as he begins to enter me, his hands spreading my ass
cheeks. Bend down, Belle. Keep fucking yourself, and raise your ass in the air for
me.
The way he talks is so filthy.
The things he does to me are so dirty.
My fingers pressing the dildo into my pussy, I lower myself to the bed. My face
presses against the sheets, my ass in the air. This is the most vulnerable Ive ever
felt, the most naked. The most exposed.
He talks to me as he enters me, his hands caressing the flesh of my ass as he
works his cock gently inside me. I wince at the flash of pain that runs through me.
The burning sensation that gives way almost immediately to pleasure.
Do you like this, Belle? he asks. Do you like giving yourself totally to me?
Oh fuck, I moan as he settles fully inside me, holding my hips tightly against
him. I can feel his heavy balls pressed against me, and hes pressed against me so
hard that it holds the dildo in place, pushing it deep inside me.
Thats right, he says, his voice gravely. Youre mine, Belle. All of you belongs
to me, my love.
I stroke my clit as he begins to move inside me, slowly and gently, taking his
time with my ass, his hands gripping my waist as he holds me against him. The
dildo slides in and out of me with every thrust of his into my ass, building up a
steady rhythm as I adjust to him.
It seems like he fucks me forever. I whimper, asking him if I can come, barely
able to hang onto my sanity as he takes me in every way.
Ill tell you when you can come, luv, he whispers. Not yet.
Not yet.
Even when Im on the edge, every cell in my body screaming for release. Even
when I stroke my clit more furiously, knowing that Im only bringing myself closer
to the edge but denying myself the pleasure of crashing over it. Even as he talks to
me, telling me how tight I am, how I squeeze his cock so very well.
Even when I feel tears rolling down my cheeks, frustration at being so close.
Please, Albie, I whine. Make me come. Im begging.
Then Albie cries out, without his usual warning, without the come for me Im
waiting for. He utters a long, loud, guttural cry from deep in his throat as he thrusts
deeply into my waiting ass, his cock throbbing.
Knowing hes coming pushes me over the edge. I dont hold back, and I dont try
to be quiet. I cry out his name as I come, wave after wave of sweet release washing
over me, obliterating my awareness of anything else in the world.
Im not sure how long it is before either of us speak. I think I might have lost my
ability to articulate anything. When I unclench my eyes, my pussy still throbbing.
Albie is still inside me, holding me tightly against him. He reaches for me, drawing
me up until my back is flush against his chest and wrapping his arms around me.
He nuzzles my neck with his lips pressed against my skin. God, I love you.
I breathe in deeply, settling against him where I belong. I love you too, Albie.
47
BELLE
I ts been two days since everything happened. We made it two days in the hotel
room in Budapest before King Leopold had Royal Intelligence round up all of us and
escort us directly to the palace.
Albie and I got a royal ass-chewing from his father. His father was more
concerned with the fact that we ran off to Budapest accompanied by our bodyguards
than with the fact that Albie and I were together. The royal PR team was more
concerned with the fact that we basically issued a public statement un-vetted by
anyone.
In the past two days, videos of Albie and I at the restaurant have gone viral. One
of them was viewed over eight million times.
The cat is officially out of the bag.
Were supposed to do an interview on a television show tomorrow. And I should
be terrified. The old Belle would be anxious and afraid. Except that Im not. The way
Albie stood in front of everyone that night, holding my hand as he told people how
he felt about me unrehearsed and speaking from the heart gave me a
confidence in us I didnt know I could have.
And it turns out that the video struck a chord with people. Most of the public
response has been positive.
My mothers response, on the other hand
She stands in my room now with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for my
explanation.
But Im not going to give her one.
This time, Im standing up to her.
This is going to happen, whether you like it or not, I say, watching her
expression harden. And the thing is, its not that big of a deal after all. Ask your
PR team. People just arent as scandalized as you think. Im sorry about the timing.
Im sorry this happened before your wedding. But you brought that part on
yourself.
Her jaw drops. Isabella Kensington, how dare you suggest that I had anything
to do with you and that boy sneaking around
Suddenly Albie is that boy.
You invited Derek to the charity event! I say, my voice rising. Ive never dared
to yell at her before, but suddenly Ive found my voice. You tried to get me to take
back my cheating dirtbag ex-fianc, but you balk at the idea of Albie and I a man
who loves me, completely and entirely being together?
Its unseemly, she says.
I shrug, because I dont care. I guess youd better get comfortable with a royal
scandal, then, I say. Because you can either be okay with it or disown me. Its
really your choice.
Isabella Kensington, if your father were alive to see
Dont, I say, holding my hand up. Anger surges through my veins. Dont you
dare tell me my father would be appalled, because thats not true. Hed want me to
be happy. Dont you want me to be happy? Isnt there some part of you that wants
me to fall in love? I see the way you look at Leo sometimes. I know that as cynical as
youve become, theres part of you that still believes in love. I know that you love
him. And its not fair for you to not want that for me.
The words pour out of me, more words than I thought I was keeping inside, and I
take a deep breath the minute I stop.
My mother looks at me for a long time, standing still, her hands clasped in front
of her. I loved your father, she says. Madly. Passionately. And when he died, I
thought it would destroy me. And I do see the way you look at Albie. It reminds me
of what I had with your father, and that frightens me. I
Her voice trails off, and she blinks, standing still, like shes afraid to move.
Shes become so practiced at restraint and decorum that it makes me sad for her.
I thought you wanted me to be miserable, I say.
Belle, she says. Of course I want you to be happy.
Im not afraid, I say. I love him.
She sighs heavily. I know, she says. I do know that.
Can you be happy for me?
I love you, she says. "And I can."
Its not perfect, but its enough.
48
ALBIE
"I t's official," I whisper, her hand in mine as we waltz around the dance floor in
the ballroom in sync with the music from the orchestra. "Now we're related."
49
BELLE ONE YEAR LATER
I m standing at the altar in Protrovias most historic and lavish church, in front of
fifteen hundred people. There are throngs of people outside in the streets.
I should be practically doubled over now, crippled with panic doing this in front
of everyone.
But Albie stands beside me, and I cant keep my eyes off of him. Hes wearing
full military dress, Navy blue with gold trim, saber at his side. Hes never looked
more like a true royal than right now.
Classy, distinguished, mature.
He squeezes my hand, and leans over to whisper to me. I just want you to
remember that I love you, he says.
What did you do? I whisper back.
Quiet, he says. Were at an important event.
I glance to the side to see Alex, my maid of honor, smiling. Then I hear the
titters of people in the crowd, white noise that ripples through the church.
I look up.
Theyre laughing because Albie has done something totally unprecedented. I
cant imagine this has ever happened, in the history of royal weddings, around the
world. I dont know how many people he had to bribe to make it happen.
Its not the priest standing in front of us right now, the one who was supposed
to officiate the ceremony the one who officially marries members of the royal
family, important people.
Nope.
Its Fake Elvis.
Fake Elvis is standing in the middle of this church, ready to marry Prince Albert
and Princess Isabella of Protrovia.
Wearing a white and gold jumpsuit with so much bling it rivals any of the
wedding party.
I turn to Albie, my eyes wide. You did not get fake Elvis to officiate, I whisper
in disbelief.
King Leopold is probably going to have a coronary.
I try to stifle my giggle, covering my mouth with my hand, but wind up snorting,
which makes it worse. Its terrible, and awful, and the most ridiculous thing
imaginable.
And so incredibly inappropriate.
But its somehow just right.
Albie takes my hands, and the murmurs from the crowd begin to quiet. Its not
even time for the vows, but he speaks. I know this is off script, he says. But Id
like to say my vows now, if thats okay.
Hes asking permission from Fake Elvis to go off-script at our wedding.
The thought sends a ripple of laughter through me again, and when I try to hold
it in, my eyes water.
I know youre all shook up by this grand gesture, Albie says. And I snort. Out
loud.
I try to glare at him, but find it impossible to be angry.
On a serious note, Albie says, clearing his throat. People have an idea about
how relationships should be. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, get married, and live
happily ever after. Nothing about our relationship has happened the way its
supposed to. We got married first. And you couldnt stand me.
I cant imagine why, I say, and the crowd laughs.
But then we fell in love, Albie says. And here we are, getting married for real
this time. But that night in Las Vegas, when it was just the two of us and Fake
Elvis that was the night I first fell in love with you. And as ridiculous as it might
be, thats where we began. And I never want to forget it.
Albie pulls me forward, his lips close to mine, and now were really off-script,
but I dont care.
Fake Elvis says, Well, you may kiss this hunk of
And I do.
Before Elvis even finishes, Albie pulls me against him and brings his lips down
on mine. And when I close my eyes, its like kissing him again for the first time
butterflies in my stomach and the world spinning around me. Except this time,
thats not because Ive had five shots of tequila in the back of a limo in Vegas.
This time, its because Im undeniably, head-over-heels, irresistibly in love.
And Im not the least bit nervous about showing it.
In front of God and all of these witnesses.
Including Fake Elvis.
WHAT IM WORKING ON
Her Bodyguard
Max
I protect royals I don't screw them.
I definitely don't screw spoiled, rich, out-of-control brats like Princess Alexandra.
She's a walking disaster, a whirlwind of public scandal and bad behavior.
She's smart-mouthed, argumentative, and doesn't do a damned thing I say.
And the idea of throwing her over my shoulder like a caveman makes my blood run
hot.
She's the ultimate in forbidden bodyguards don't touch princesses. I could lose
everything.
But this is one princess I'll bring to her knees.
Alex
My bodyguard is a royal ass.
He's ridiculously arrogant, completely insufferable, and always plays by the rules.
Excerpt
"You're not going anywhere with him, princess." Max grabs my wrist, his
expression dark.
"I'll go wherever I damn well please," I huff, shaking off his grip despite my
nearly overwhelming attraction for this man.
My bodyguard.
The most irritating, possessive brute in the universe. The man who's been
telling me what to do for the past year, bossing me around like he owns me.
Overstepping his role. Looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off.
I could have requested another bodyguard a dozen times. I could have traded
him for someone else. Someone professional. Someone who has respect for my
position, the fact that I'm a royal. Someone who doesn't think that an appropriate
method of protecting me is to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder to
physically remove me from whomever he thinks I need protecting from usually
an attractive man hitting on me.
"No, princess. He doesn't take you anywhere. He doesn't put his hands on you.
He doesn't put his mouth on you. He doesn't fucking look at you."
"He doesn't look at me?! Are you insane? You're certifiable if you think you have
any right to tell me who I can and can't see!"
"That's right. He doesn't fucking look at you."
"We're in a fake relationship, Max. All of this " I gesture wildly to emphasize
my point, but really because I need to put some space between us before I wind up
crossing the line with him and doing something I can't take back. "It's not real.
Just because I made up a scandalous thing with you to take the heat off my brother
doesn't mean you should actually take it seriously."
"Tell me how fake this feels, princess." He pulls me against him, his hardness
pressing into my leg and sending arousal coursing through me like a wave. I take a
deep breath and tell myself to stay in control.
I'm not the kind of girl who goes weak-kneed over a guy. I don't get a rush or
Thanks for reading Double Team! I hope you enjoyed it! If youd like to keep up to
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Wall Street Journal Bestselling author Sabrina Paige writes about smart, sexy, sassy women and hot, possessive
alpha males. She especially loves writing about hate-to-love relationships and likes funny, over-the-top
scenarios in her books. Her newest novel, Killian, hit #1 on the Amazon Kindle Bestseller list in May 2016.
Tackled hit #1 on the Amazon Kindle Bestseller list in March 2016. In November 2015, Prince Albert hit #1 on
the Amazon Kindle Bestseller list. Prick, Tool, Cannon, and Luke have been Top 10 Amazon Kindle Bestsellers,
and Elias and Saving Axe have been Top 20 Bestsellers.
She has found her own happily ever after with her active duty military husband and adorable daughter.
I would love to hear from you!
@sabrinapaigerom
SabrinaPaigeRomance
www.sabrinapaigeromance.com
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to all of the readers and bloggers who continue to support my work!
As always, thanks to Yoly Cortez of Cormar Covers for her amazing designs and for
her kindness.
Thanks to Sara Eirew for the gorgeous photo! The second I saw it, I knew I had to
write a book for it!
And my heartfelt thanks to my editor, Daryl Banner, who puts up with so much
from me. And thanks to Sue Banner for proofreading and for everything else you do
to support me and so many other authors.