Paper Princess: A Novel (The Royals Book 1) (16 page)

And I might be attracted to him, but I refuse to let my first time to be with someone who despises me. Someone who’s trying to protect his perfectly capable brother from my innocent destruction.

But I don’t want to leave without a taste either, because I’m not that strong…or stupid.

He may hate me, but he
wants
me. His grip on his dick doesn’t ease up. If anything, his muscles bunch harder as if he’s anticipating my touch.

This is what Valerie was talking about the other night when we were dancing. I didn’t respond to the crowd, but Reed’s hot eyes tracking my every move made me feel real. I know that if I was in Reed’s head right now all I’d see would be
me
.

I saunter to the chair in the corner where a folded robe is wrapped in its sash. I pull the sash off and then run the strip of terry cloth through my fingers.

“Anything I want?” I ask him.

His eyes close momentarily and then snap open with so much need my knees nearly buckle.

“Yes. Anything.” His response sounds as if it’s wrenched out of him. “But just me.”

“Why are you so desperate?” I taunt. “You had sex with someone just last night.”

He makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “I didn’t have jack last night. You’re the one who made out with East.”

“And you weren’t rocking the Range Rover so hard the tires were coming off?” I say sarcastically.

“That was Wade.” My confusion must show because he clarifies. “The quarterback of Astor Park, friend of mine. The bathroom was full. He couldn’t wait.”

Something like relief floods me. Maybe this is the only way his pride lets us be together. Maybe I could have him. Maybe this is my good thing. My reward. I decide to test it.

“I want to tie you up.”

His jaw hardens. He probably thinks that this is my kink—something I’ve tried out a dozen times before.

“Sure, babe, anything you want.”

He’s not giving in; he’s baiting me. I kick myself for believing for a single moment that I’m anything more to Reed than a convenient warm body.

I approach him with growing resolve. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

He watches me warily as I gesture for him to hold out his wrists. And for all my pretend nonchalance, I can barely stifle a gasp when his hand brushes against my bare midriff. Note to self: wear more clothes around Reed for my own self-preservation.

I’m not a Boy Scout or sailor. I know one knot—the shoelace one. I wrap his wrists twice and we both suck in a breath when the sash strikes the front of his boxers not once, but twice. “You’re killing me,” he says between gritted teeth.

“Good,” I murmur, but my hands are shaking so hard I can barely get my simple knots tied.

“You like this? Me at your mercy.”

“We both know that you’re never at my mercy.”

He mutters something under his breath about me not knowing shit, but I ignore him. I look around for a place to tie him to. The great thing about boats is that everything is bolted down. There’s a shiny brass loop next to the chair and I lead Reed over to it.

Pushing him down in the chair, I kneel between his legs with the sash in my hands. He sits there like a God, a modern-day King Tut surveying the slave girl at his feet.

The throbbing between my legs is almost painful. All I can hear is a tiny, devilish voice asking me what the harm would be.

This guy wants me so bad that he hasn’t lost an inch of his erection. Under the cotton, it’s waiting for me to touch it just like he’d ordered—or begged. I’ve never had my mouth around a dick before. I wonder what it feels like.

Before I can stop myself I reach out and tug his boxers down far enough to free him. He hisses when I touch him. Oh wow. The softness surprises me. His skin is like velvet.

“You’re…” Perfect, I want to say, but I’m afraid he’ll make fun of me if do. I run my fingertips over him and take a deep breath. Need pulses in my blood.

“Is this what you want?” Reed asks. It’s supposed to be a taunt but comes out as a plea.

I stare at his hard-on, intimidated by it. There’s a pearl of liquid on the tip and…I lick it. But one taste isn’t enough. I go back for seconds, lapping the tip like it’s the hottest day in July and he’s an ice cream cone about to melt all over my fingers.

“Goddammit.” His fisted hands come to rest on the top of my head. “Suck it. Dammit. Suck it like I know you can.”

His cruel words break through the fog of desire. I rear back.

“Like you know I can?” My defenses are so low that the vulnerability I’ve tried to keep from him seeps out.

“Like you…” He falters for a moment, unsettled by the hurt in my voice, but something causes him to rally. “Like you’ve done a thousand times before.”

“Right.” I release a shaky laugh. “Then you need to be secured for this, because I know tricks you haven’t ever dreamed of.”

I pull hard on the sash and tie it to the ring in the floor. I tie it tight. He watches me with glittering eyes. I want to punch him, really make him hurt. But he can endure physical pain, so the only thing I can do is make him believe that I’m going to ruin his precious family in ways that can’t be rebuilt. Like the way he’s breaking me apart into so many tiny pieces.

I climb onto the chair, my knees on either side of his strong thighs.

“I know you want me. I know that you’re dying for me to get back on my knees.” Curling my fingernails into his scalp, I jerk his head back so he can see my eyes. “But it will be a cold, cold day in hell before you ever see me kneel again. I wouldn’t touch you if you paid me. I wouldn’t touch you again even if you begged me for it. Even if you vowed you loved me more than the sun loves the day or the moon loves the night. I’d screw your father before I’d screw you.”

I push him away and climb off. “You know what? Maybe I’ll go do that right now. I remember Easton saying your dad likes them young.”

I saunter to the door with confidence I don’t really feel. Reed jerks against his bonds but my simple knots hold him tight.

“Get back here and untie me,” he growls.

“Naah. You’re gonna have to figure that one out yourself.” I step to the door and place my hand on the knob. Turning back, I plant a hand on my hip and taunt, “If you’re better than Easton, then by way of experience, your dad has to be spectacular.”

“Ella, get your ass back here.”

“No.” I smile at him and leave. Behind me, I hear him yelling my name. The sound gets fainter and fainter until his voice is just a bad lingering memory.

On the deck, Callum is tossing back booze while Easton is sleeping next to him in a lounger.

“Ella, are you okay?” Callum hurriedly gets to his feet and comes over.

I smooth down my hair and pretend to be unfazed. “I’m fine. Actually…I was just thinking about Steve and, well, I’d like to know more about him if you’re willing to share.”

Callum’s whole face lights up. “Yes, definitely. Come over and sit down.”

I bite my lip and look at my feet. “Could we go somewhere private?”

“Of course. How about my stateroom?”

“That would be perfect.” I beam.

His mouth drops open slightly. “God, that smile is all Steve. Come on.” He drapes an arm around my shoulder. “Steve and I grew up together. His granddad, who formed Atlantic Aviation with my granddad, was a sailor. Steve and I would sit and listen to his PawPaw’s stories for hours. I guess that’s where we got the urge to enlist.”

Easton’s head pops up as Callum leads me toward the stateroom. He stares at me, then at Callum’s arm. I brace myself for a snotty comment, one that I probably deserve this time. Instead he looks like I kicked him in the stomach—or lied to him—which is almost worse.

I
let
Callum rattle on about good ol’ Steve for about ten minutes before I interrupt him.

“Callum, this is interesting and I appreciate you sharing with me, but…” I hesitate. “I have to ask you a question that’s been bothering me from the moment I stepped foot in your house.”

“Sure, Ella. You can ask me anything.”

“Why are your sons so unhappy?” I think of Reed’s perpetually sullen face and swallow hard. “Why are they so angry? We both know they don’t like me and I want to know why.”

Callum scrubs a hand down his face. “You just have to give it some time. They’ll come around.”

I fold my legs up underneath me on the bed. There’s only one chair in the stateroom, so Callum sat on it while I took the bed. It’s awkward to be in here sitting on a mattress while talking to my new father figure about my newly discovered but deceased father.

“You said that before, but I don’t think they will,” I say quietly. “And I don’t get it. I mean, is it the money? Do they really resent you giving me money?”

“It’s not the money. It’s…shit—I mean, shoot.” Callum stumbles over his words. “God, I need a drink.” He laughs a little. “But I’d bet you wouldn’t let me have one.”

“Not now.” I cross my arms. Callum wants me to be tough with him? I can do that.

“Straight up, no shit. That’s how you want it, right?”

I have to smile. “Right.”

He tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “At this point, my relationship with the boys is so broken I could bring Mother Teresa home and they’d accuse her of trying to get in my pants. They think I cheated on their mother and caused her death.”

I make an effort to keep my jaw closed. Okay. Wow. Well, that explains some of it. I take a breath. “And did you?”

“No. I never cheated on her. I was never even tempted, not once during our marriage. When I was young, Steve and I ran a little wild, but once I married Maria I never looked at another woman.”

He sounds sincere, but I feel like I’m not getting the whole story. “Then why are your kids always in a foul mood?”

“Steve was…” Callum looks away. “Hell, Ella, I wanted time for you to learn to love your father, not tell you all the crappy things that he did because he was lonely.”

I grasp at every straw I can in order to force Callum to spill whatever it is he’s trying so hard to hide. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean, but I don’t know Steve and now that he’s gone, I won’t ever know him. He’s not a real person to mean, not like Reed or Easton or you. You want me to be a Royal, but I’m never going to be one if everyone in the family doesn’t accept me. Why would I ever come back after graduation to a place where I don’t feel wanted?”

My attempts at emotional blackmail are a success. Callum instantly starts speaking, and I’m genuinely touched at how badly he wants me to be part of his family.

“Steve was a bachelor for a long time. He liked to brag a lot, and I think when the boys were younger they thought their Uncle Steve was the epitome of manhood. He’d tell them stories of our wilder days and I never stopped him. We spent a lot of time jetting around on business trips and Steve took advantage of that. I promise you I didn’t, but... not everyone believed that.”

Like his kids. Like his wife.

He shifts in his chair, obviously uncomfortable with this story. “Maria became depressed and I didn’t recognize the signs. Looking back, I realize that her distance and moodiness were symptoms of a serious issue, but I was too busy trying to keep the business in the black during the recession. She was getting more and more pills with only the boys to keep her company. When she had the overdose and I was halfway around the world in Tokyo pulling Steve out of a whorehouse, they blamed me.”

Maybe they were right to blame you
, I think.

“Steve wasn’t a bad guy, but you…you’re…
evidence
, I guess. Evidence that he led me around by the nose into things that eventually killed their mother.” His eyes plead with me for understanding, even forgiveness, but I’m not the one who can give him that. “When he got the letter from your mom, Steve changed. He was a new man overnight. I swear to you, he would have been the most attentive, doting father. He wanted kids and was over the moon when he discovered you. He would have started looking for you immediately but he’d had this trip planned for a long time with Dinah. It was hang-gliding in a place that apparently doesn’t allow it, but Steve managed to bribe some local officials to let them make a run. He was going to look for you the minute he came back. Don’t hate him.”

“I don’t hate him. I don’t even know him. I…”

I trail off, because my thoughts are a jumbled mess. Somehow in the Royal boys’ minds, their mother’s death and Steve’s involvement are all tangled up, and I’m a convenient—and living—target. There’s nothing I can do that will change their opinion. I see that now. Still, I asked for the truth, and I won’t blame Callum for this.

“Thank you,” I say in a wobbly voice. “I appreciate you being straight with me.” I could be completely virtuous and they’d still hate me. I could be Abby-like and…a thought pops into my mind and out of my mouth before I can stop it. “What was Maria like?”

“Sweet. She was sweet, kind. Just a smidge over five feet and the soul of an angel.” He smiles, and in that instant I know he loved Maria. I’ve seen that kind of true love glow only once before—in the eyes of my own mother. She didn’t have all her shit together, but she loved me.

Maria inspired the same love in her sons. That Abby is her replica and the opposite of everything I’m made of shouldn’t bother me, but it does, because as much as I hate admitting it, the truth is I want Reed to feel that way about
me.

Which is about the stupidest sentiment I have ever conjured up.

R
eed doesn’t look
at me the entire trip back to shore or when we arrive home. His brooding silence speaks loudly enough. He’s furious and going to stay that way for a good long while.

I beg off dinner citing sunstroke, because there’s no way I can endure an entire meal with Reed either ignoring I exist or needling me at every opportunity.

I know I brought this on myself, but when even Easton scowls as I’m heading up to my room, I wonder if I made a mistake.

“I thought you weren’t going to screw my dad,” he hisses as I pass by him in the hall.

“I didn’t. I just wanted Reed to think I did.” When Easton still looks doubtful, I let out a sigh. “All Callum and I did was talk about Steve.”
And your mom
, but I figure Easton wouldn’t appreciate that in his current mood.

He’s not pacified one bit by my confession. “Don’t play games with my brother. You’ve got him worked up and now he’s gonna have to get it out of his system.”

I blanch. “What do you mean?” I ask but dread the answer. He’s running to Abby? That makes me want to puke all over Easton’s deck shoes.

“Never mind.” He waves me off. “You two should either screw or stay away from each other. Staying away from each other is my vote.”

“Noted.” I start to open my bedroom door but Easton grabs my arm.

“I’m serious. If you need someone, just come to me. I don’t mind you so much.”

Ugh. I’m done with these Royal boys. “Gosh, Easton. That’s so generous. Does your pity sex offer have an expiration date? Or is it a coupon I can use whenever I feel like it?”

I stomp into my bedroom and slam the door in his confused face. It’s early, but I decide to go to bed because I have to be at the bakery before the sun rises and then school, and there isn’t a person in this house that I want to talk to right now.

I crawl under the covers and force myself to fall asleep, but I drift in and out, rousing at every door slam and foot stomp outside my bedroom.

In the late night hours, I hear furious whispering in the hall. The same furious whispering I heard the other night. Easton and Reed are arguing about something. I check the time. It’s about the same time too—just after midnight.

“I’m going,” Reed says flatly. “Last time you were pissed I wouldn’t let you come and now you’re whining when I invite you?”

Oh, that’s a guaranteed button pusher.

“Hey, excuse me for worrying that your head’s so far up your ass, you won’t see a fist coming,” Easton snaps back. Yup. Buttons pushed.

“At least I’m not panting after Steve’s daughter.”

“Yeah right,” Easton says derisively. “Because that’s why I found you nearly naked and tied to a chair. Because you don’t want Ella at all.”

They move off far enough down the hall that I can’t hear Reed’s full response but it sounds something like, “I’d rather bang Jordan than stick my dick in that trap.”

My anger has me tossing the covers aside and shooting out of bed. Those two have secrets that they don’t want me to know about? Well, if I’m in a war here at the Royal house, I need all the ammunition I can get.

I rush to the closet and throw on the first thing I touch, which turns out to be a miniskirt. Not the perfect creeper clothes, but I don’t have time to waste. I jump into the skirt and pull on a T-shirt, then push my feet into my sneakers and creep out of my bedroom as quietly as possible.

I tiptoe down the back stairs. There’s no one in the kitchen but I hear faint noises outside. A car door slams. Shit. I need to hurry. Luckily, the twins leave clothes, keys, wallets, and all kinds of junk down in the mudroom all the time.

I race across the kitchen to the connected mudroom and grab the first hoodie I find. There are keys and a wad of cash in the front pocket. Perfect. Ducking down beneath the window in the door, I peek out and see the taillights of Reed’s Range Rover blinking down the drive.

I wrench open the door and haul ass to the garage. When the button on the key fob lights up the twins’ SUV, I heave a sigh of relief and climb inside.

It’s tricky to secretly follow someone in a car on a dark night down a quiet street, but I manage to pull it off, because Reed doesn’t stop or whip his vehicle around to angrily confront me. He leads me into the heart of the city and then down several side roads until we arrive at a gate.

Reed parks his SUV. I cut the engine and shut off the lights. In the moonlight, I can barely make out the two brothers as they get out of the Rover and then clamber over the fence.

What the heck am I getting into? Are they dealing drugs? That would be nuts. The family is loaded. The hoodie I’m wearing has five hundred dollars in twenties and fifties balled up, and I’d bet the entire wad that if I went through each one of the pockets of the jackets hanging in the mudroom, I’d find loads of cash in every one of them.

So what could they be doing?

I run over to the fence to check if I can see anything, but all I can make out is a row of long rectangular-shaped structures—all roughly the same size. But no Reed or Easton.

Ignoring the inner voice that’s telling me it’s beyond stupid to climb a fence and rush into the dark, I do it anyway.

When I get closer to the buildings, I realize that they aren’t buildings at all, but shipping containers, which means I must be in a shipyard. My deck shoes are soft on the bottom and make no noise, so when I come upon Easton handing a stack of cash to some hoodie-clad stranger, neither of them hear me.

I duck backward, using the container as a shield while peeking around the corner like an inept spy in a terrible action movie. Beyond Easton and the stranger, there’s a makeshift circle set in the center of an empty space at the end of four shipping crates.

And inside that circle is Reed, stripped down to a pair of jeans.

He pulls one arm across his body and then switches to stretch the other arm. Then he bounces on the balls of his feet as if he’s trying to loosen himself up. When I spot the other shirtless guy, all the pieces fall into place. The secret late night trips out of the house. The unexplained bruises on his face. Easton must be betting on his brother. Hell, Easton might be fighting, too, if I remember the argument between the two of them last week.

“I thought someone was following us, but Reed wouldn’t listen.”

I jerk around to find Easton standing right behind me. Then I go on the defensive before he can give me shit about following them. “What are you going to do, tell on me?” I mock.

He rolls his eyes, then pulls me forward. “Come on, you sneak. You’re the cause of this. You might as well see it through.”

I let him drag me to the edge of the circle, but I do protest. “I’m the cause of this? How do you figure?”

Easton pushes people aside and muscles us up to the front. “Tying Reed to a chair buck ass naked?”

“He had underwear on,” I mumble.

Easton ignores me and keeps talking. “Leaving him hornier than a sailor after a nine-month stint at the bottom of the ocean? Please, sis, he’s got so much adrenaline in his body right now that it’s either fight or,” he looks down at me with speculation, “screw, and since you won’t screw him, it’s this. Hey, big bro,” he calls out. “Our baby sis came to watch.”

Reed spins around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I resist the urge to hide behind Easton’s big frame. “Just here to cheer on the family. Go—” Royals, I start to say but then wonder if these guys are using aliases or something. I lift my fist, “Go, family!”

“East, if you put her up to this, I swear I’m going to beat your ass into next Sunday.”

Easton holds up his hands. “Dude, I told you someone was following us but you couldn’t hear anything over all your bitching about how you were going to teach someone,” he tilts his head in my direction, “a lesson.”

Reed scowls. He clearly wants to pick me up and throw me out into the dark. Before he can do anything, the other shirtless guy with thighs like tree trunks claps him on the shoulder.

“You done having your family reunion? I want to get this fight over with before the sun rises.”

The anger in Reed’s blue eyes dissolves into amusement. “Cunningham, you won’t last five seconds. Where’s your bro?”

Cunningham shrugs his massive shoulders. “He’s getting his dick sucked by some casual. Now don’t be scared, Royal. I won’t hurt you too bad. I know you have to show your pretty face at Astor Park tomorrow.”

“You stay here.” Reed points at me and then at the ground. “Move and it’ll be way worse for you.”

“Because it’s been so good up until now,” I crack.

“Quit talking and start fighting,” someone from the crowd yells. “If I wanted to watch a soap opera, I would’ve stayed home.”

Easton punches Reed hard in the shoulder and Reed punches him right back. Both blows would have felled me but the two laugh like maniacs.

Cunningham backs up to the center and gestures for Reed to come after him. Reed doesn’t hesitate. There’s no dancing around, taking each other’s measure. Reed launches himself at Cunningham and for a good five minutes, the two exchange blows. I flinch at every contact Cunningham makes, but Easton just laughs and cheers Reed on.

“Easiest money I ever make, betting on Reed,” he crows.

I fold my arms around my waist. Callum said he was in a dark place, but does he realize his sons are there, too? That they come out here and take blow after blow to rid themselves of whatever emotions that haunt them?

And what does it say about me that my palms are dampening and so are other parts of my body? That my breath is quickening and my heart is starting to race?

I can’t take my eyes off Reed. His muscles are gleaming in the moonlight, and he’s so incredibly beautiful in this animalistic form that something primal inside me responds in a way I don’t know how to deal with.

“Getting you hot, isn’t it?” Easton whispers knowingly in my ear.

I shake my head no, but my entire body screams
yes
, and as Reed strikes his final blow, one that swings Cunningham all the way around and drops him face-first to the concrete, I know that if he crooks his little finger at me, I won’t be able to turn him away. Not this time.