For King and Country (5 page)

“Will you hurt me?” The words felt like a dare rather than a question.

“You’ve been reading the tabloids,” he said. “Don’t believe everything you read, Clara. I have never done anything to a woman that she hasn’t asked for…
begged
for.”

I spun around to face him. I wasn’t certain if I was angry with him for being so cocky—or if I was mad at myself for being so turned on. But my questions died on my lips as I found myself fighting hard against the dizzying effect he had on me. It was unfair that his power was coupled with such a godlike face.

I took a deep breath, refusing to look away from him. “Do you like that? Do you like women to beg?”

He loosed a low, gruff laugh that made my core clench. “I enjoy making women ask for more. I enjoy making them whimper and cry out and call my name, and I’d very much enjoy making you beg.”

“I’m not really the begging type,” I said, even though my words were as weak as my resolve was becoming.

“You could be,” Alexander said. “I can see it in your eyes: the desire to be commanded and taken. You’ll enjoy it when I fuck you.”

Yes, please.

Alexander trailed a finger down to my collarbone, and my body tightened in anticipation, recalling my dream. Then his fingers curled around my neck, his touch light but assertive. He was in control, and when he drew me closer, I molded into him instinctively. I could feel his cock pressed against my belly, and my body responded with a twinge that tingled through my nerves until my sex felt swollen and ready. I waited for him to make a move, no longer a slave to conscience or rational thought. Instead, a hundred scenarios played out in my mind. Over the table. On the couch. Against the glass window. He could have me any way he would take me.

But instead he withdrew from me. “You should go.”

His sudden rejection rocked through me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I swayed, momentarily disoriented by the abrupt shift in his demeanor. “I probably should.”

A man like this—one that confused me and mesmerized me, thrilled me and terrified me—was no good for me. I forced myself to consider that even though I was crushed, Alexander was bad news. I’d known that all along, so why was I here now?

Alexander turned from me, hiding his blue eyes and the deep secrets reflecting beneath their smoldering surface. “You asked if I would hurt you, Clara. I can’t lie and say that I won’t. I want nothing more than to strip you bare and pin you to that wall. Hold you there until you beg for my cock, and when I finally give it to you, you’ll beg me never to stop.”

Again he moved closer and I felt his heat radiating from him. It seeped into me, making my blood broil. The passion coursed through my veins, heating my flesh and slowly engulfing my senses until there was only him.

He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “But if I do that, it will only ruin you.”

“This isn’t an old novel,” I snapped, hoping he didn’t catch the break in my voice. “I’m not a hapless virgin.”

His hand flew out and caught my arm, pulling me against him roughly. “I’ve thought about your lips all day. I’ve pictured you on your knees with that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock sucking me off. If I had you now, I would want more. Once wouldn’t be enough. But more is something a man like me can never have.”

“Because I’m not royalty?” I asked, feeling daft for even suggesting something so antiquated. I knew this wasn’t a game. He wanted me—almost as much as I wanted him. A man like Alexander could have anything he desired, so why push me away now?

“I think they’d be more pissed that you’re American, but really no one cares about that,” he said with a dark smile. It faded from his lips, but the darkness remained in his features. “Because nothing beautiful can survive around me. Do you understand that? They’ll destroy you, and if they don’t, eventually I will.”

His assumption that I couldn’t handle him had me furious at a level I found hard to express. Apparently, he wasn’t only arrogant when it came to his conquests, he was also full of himself when it came to all women.

“Maybe I can take care of myself.” I twisted away from him, but his grip remained firm.

“Maybe you can,” he admitted. “But don’t tempt me into risking it. I can’t be held responsible.”

He dropped his hold of me then and I saw the dare in his crystal blue eyes. He wanted me to run. He expected me to run. Instead my hand shot out, grabbing his shirt and pulling him down until our lips met. A growl vibrated through his body as our tongues met, and I shivered both at the sound and at the primal urgency of his touch. His hands slid down, cupping my ass and lifting me off the ground as the kiss deepened, his tongue sweeping across my teeth before it thrust inside my mouth, drawing out mine. He sucked it slowly until my legs wrapped more tightly around his hips, my body desperately searching for relief from the mounting pressure in my core. Despite our clothing, I circled against his hard cock, rocking against it when I found the right spot. Somewhere my sensible side, no longer able to stay silent, began admonishing me, her tone shocked and her eyes wide.

Shut up
, I commanded her.

Still holding me up, Alexander’s hand drifted up and caught my ponytail, tugging it back so that my lips broke from his.

“This is your last chance,” he warned. His eyes burned into me, but once again I felt frozen—totally under his control.

And it was then that I realized control was the one thing I could never, ever give him.

“No,” I whispered.

Disappointment flashed through his still blazing eyes, but he released me gently to my feet. The ground was shaky beneath me, but when I took a step back, it was my legs that trembled.

“You’re a smart girl.” He hesitated, searching my face for a reason I couldn’t give him. Then he dropped his lips to brush across my forehead. “Norris will see you home safely, and I’ll have my people work on getting rid of those reporters.”

The fire that had roared between us moments ago had cooled into business, and I wished I were still kissing him.

“Thank you.” The words were thick on my tongue, anticipating the words I knew would follow. Words, that despite my show of resolve, I didn’t want to hear.

“Goodbye, Clara Bishop.” Alexander’s eyes lingered over me and I sensed he was holding back, as though he wanted to say more.

I took a deep breath and backed my way toward the door—and the safety of the club outside. “Goodbye.”

But when I stepped out of the room, the relief I expected to flood through me didn’t come. Instead I felt something else entirely—an emotion I couldn’t quite place. It ached and plucked at me, familiar and foreign at the same time. Norris met me at the foot of the stairs before I realized what was swirling through me, leaving my body numb and my center hollow.

It was regret.

T
ears blurred my eyes as Norris took my elbow, guiding me back toward the exit we’d entered through. I felt ridiculous for crying, but it had been a trying day: hiding in my flat, sneaking out to meet up with Alexander, avoiding my mother’s calls and my friends’ text messages. I could have been hit by a car crossing the street and received less attention. And to top it off, Alexander had rejected me. Or I had rejected him. I wasn’t really sure. It felt like such a mess now that I could only be certain of one thing—I was done with it all.

Pulling free of Norris’s gentle hand, I darted away from him, slowing to a stride as I passed the line of people waiting for the loo. There was no way I was going to spend this week—or even this night—hiding. Alexander said he would fix things, but I wasn’t going to wait around for that to happen. I didn’t think I was imagining eyes swiveling to follow me. Then a few girls snapped my photo on their mobile, and I knew I wasn’t being paranoid. I had been recognized.

But that was the point.

I needed this to end now. Even if Alexander called off the reporters, there’d be suspicions that something was going on between the two of us. Suspicion had to be laid to rest. I was about to start a job in this city. I couldn’t very well have photographers following me everywhere I went.

The floor of Brimstone was packed so tightly that I barely managed to push through the sweaty crowd, although I was able to entirely lose Norris in the process. As it was, I got groped by guys too pissed to know better. At least I hoped that was their excuse. But now that I was out on the dance floor, it felt like I was actually in hell and stuck in a giant swarm of the damned. It was certainly hot enough down here, and I was miserable too. My eyes flashed past the flaming murals on the wall and the dancers surrounding me to the giant mirror that lined the loft above the dance area. Was Alexander watching me? Did he even care?

The thought was enough to spur me forward until I forced my way out of the crowd. As a bouncer opened the door for me to exit, I realized that it didn’t really matter if Alexander was watching. The security guard cast a sideways glance at my strange attire, no doubt wondering who had let me in dressed like this.

“Wash day,” I called over the din. His mouth split into a grin that dropped from his face a moment later when the first flash bulb went off. Confusion replaced amusement as the first burst was followed by a dozen more.

I didn’t have much of a plan for how to deal with this. My entire experience with the paparazzi until this morning had consisted of photographs in the tabloids. A celebrity would hold a hand over her face and walk quickly away, but I wanted their attention. I needed to prove that I wasn’t worth their time. Although now that I was actually in the situation, I wasn’t sure how to make that happen.

“Miss Bishop! Smile, love!”

“Miss Bishop, how long have you been involved with the Prince?”

“Miss Bishop, is it true that the King has condemned your relationship?”

“Were you secretly married in Oxford?”

It was like that childhood game
telephone
. From one silly picture they’d managed to spin an entire love affair. The truth had been entirely distorted in favor of headlines. Something twanged in my chest as I thought of how Alexander had to deal with this every day. No wonder he’d been so hot and cold. It was a coping mechanism to help him survive. And now these leeches had their hooks in me, waiting for the next juicy moment they could exploit in the name of news.

Stopping in front of the crowd and pushing my shoulders back in an effort to look serious, which was quite difficult considering my ensemble, I addressed the crowd.

“I’m sorry to inform you all that I have no relationship with Prince Alexander. Someone has made a dreadful mistake. I do not know the Prince. I am not in love with him. And I highly doubt the King gives two figs about me.” The words rushed out of me, even as I tried to stay calm and collected. I was running on adrenaline now, which meant I was lucky that I was even coherent right at the moment.

I didn’t expect them to stop taking photos or run away or even apologize, but I certainly didn’t expect the reporters to cluster closer to me after I’d explained that I was a dead end. They didn’t seem willing to believe that. A few jostled against me, screaming questions in my ear. I was nearly blinded by the flash of their cameras. They all spoke so quickly that I wouldn’t have been able to answer one of them if I wanted to. I wished I’d let Norris take me home as the crowd pressed closer and closer. Club-goers had joined the chaos. A few men attempted to fight the reporters in the name of chivalry, which would have been laughable any other night. And a few others were simply trying to take photos with their mobiles. They probably didn’t even know who I was. It only mattered that there was news of some sort. No doubt the whole scene would be spread all over Facebook by the morning.

I fought against the crowd, pushing my way past one group, only to have another wave surge on top of me. Bodies pressed in on every side of me, drowning me, until I couldn’t breathe. The air squeezed from my chest and I gasped, trying to inhale but choking as the mass pushing against me prevented me from catching my breath. Panic trembled down my arms and legs, rolling through me in tiny quivers as my eyes darted around, looking for a means of escape. I had to get away. I had to breathe. I had to protect myself. But with each passing second, I grew more terrified, more desperate, until I tripped over someone’s legs.

The crowd parted only far enough for me to stumble to my hands and knees before the frenzy set in once more. Dozens of flashes popped and sparked around me. My arms wrapped around my head reflexively, trying to block out the gawkers and their shouts.

“Enough!” The command bellowed so loudly over the crowd that even I lifted my eyes to see who had called out.

Alexander stood a few paces away, his face contorted with barely controlled rage. He’d pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, making him look like a man eager to get down to business. Fury blazed in his eyes as his gaze traveled from person to person as though he was silently daring any of them to defy his order. He took a few steps forward, and as he came closer, the anger radiated from him like a heat wave. The crowd around me backed away, unable to tear their eyes from him. It might have been because he was the Prince of England, but I knew there was something more primal to this scene. Even I responded to it, my heartbeat racing faster instead of calming until he dropped down and pushed my hands from over my head.

“Are you okay, Clara?” he asked quietly.

I managed a nod. Behind me, a few of the girls with cameras had started filming again.

Alexander took my hand and helped me to my feet, but as soon I was standing up again, the questions began.

“Alexander, is this your girlfriend?”

“Alexander, is it true that your father doesn’t approve of your relationship with a commoner?”

I winced at that one. True, I wasn’t royalty, but it felt a bit hypocritical to call me out as a commoner. It was meant to be an insult, I could feel it as I could feel the daggers being cast at me from many of the women nearby. I had to get out of here. My throat constricted even though no one was shoving against me now. I forced myself to breathe, but the result was the quick, shallow pants of another panic attack. Alexander fell into step beside me. Ignoring the reporters, he glanced down at me, concern shining through his fiery eyes. He shifted closer, placing his hand on the small of my back. It lingered there, scorching through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, as he guided me past the reporters and onlookers. His touch steadied my nerves, and warmth spread through my body from the spot where his hand rested possessively, settling in my chest.

Without a word, he calmed me.

Norris overtook us, rushing to the car to open the door, even as the crowd followed us. Alexander’s hand dropped away as soon as I bent to enter the backseat, but to my surprise, he ducked inside himself. The door slammed shut behind us, and Norris slid into the driver’s seat moments later. It felt like an eternity had passed since Alexander had lifted me to my feet in front of Brimstone. Time had slowed under his protection, but in the silent car, it sped back up as cameras clicked outside the tinted windows. My eyes found the ground, and I became heavily invested in a snag on the mat at my feet until a confident arm slung over my shoulder and pulled me close, encouraging me to bury my face in his shoulder. I inhaled the indescribable scent of him: cloves and soap and bourbon. It sank into me until the world around us faded away and I relaxed in his embrace.

Without a word, he claimed me.

We rode silently through the crowds back to my flat as I tried to keep it together. I wouldn’t cry in front of Alexander. I wouldn’t show him my weaknesses now that I’d glimpsed his brutal strength, because I didn’t want him to see me as vulnerable. Peering up at him, I felt his power rolling over me. He was powerful and commanding—he was unlike any man I’d ever met and I didn’t want him to see how much that scared—and excited—me.

“Clara.” My name rolled off his lips with ease and I savored how it sounded. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, a lump stuck in my throat. Did he sense the shift in our connection? The thread that had drawn me to him had been invisible—inexplicable—when we’d met. I’d felt it when I saw him again in Brimstone. But now that tenuous, elusive connection was gone, replaced by a firm, unyielding bond of trust. He had stood by me. I had to give him credit for that even though he’d gotten me into this mess in the first place. Was he thinking the same thing? Did he feel it, too?

“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have known better than to kiss you.” The arm he had casually draped around my shoulder withdrew and he ran a hand through his messy black hair.

I was torn between wanting it to be my hand tangling in his hair and disappointment. I had misread everything. I imagined the link between us. And did he mean the first time he kissed me or when we had kissed at Brimstone? Somehow, despite the terror I’d already experienced, I didn’t regret either kiss. In fact, more than ever, I wanted more. I wanted his lips on mine, and his body pressed so hard against me that I could feel his arousal jabbing into the soft flesh of my belly.

But that was never going to happen. I couldn’t let it. I couldn’t let whatever was happening between us go on. I straightened up and took a deep breath, twisting to meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” I lied. “Things got out of hand. I’m afraid you’re more experienced with this sort of thing than I am.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right.” He paused, watching me so intensely that I squirmed in my seat. “I know I should be sorry that I kissed you, but I’m not. In fact, I’d like to do it again.”

My doubt washed from me when he spoke, and I found myself powerless against his suggestions.

“I’m not stopping you,” I said in a soft voice, surprising even myself.

Alexander sucked in a breath and tore his gaze from mine to look out the window. “You said
no
.”

I had said no, and I could no longer remember why. “I didn’t mean it.”

“What mixed signals you give me, Miss Bishop. That’s a risqué thing to do with a man like me.”

“And what kind of man is that?” I asked even though I already knew the answer—a dangerous man. A dangerous but beautiful man. Not just because of who he was or the life he lived. I’d seen glimpses of what he hid beneath the mask of control he wore—glimpses of something wild and untamed.

“A man who takes what he wants,” he answered ominously. He paused, regarding me as if to ascertain if he’d scared me.

But what I felt was far from fear. I pressed my legs together as the heat between them increased, a tiny pulse beginning to tick anxiously. Even his words were sexy, and I wanted more. “You haven’t taken
me
.”

“We met under unusual circumstances,” he pointed out, dropping a hand to rest on my knee. The contact sent a shudder of desire up my thigh, ratcheting up the throb in my clit.