Reluctantly Royal (14 page)

“And now you’re just waiting on the will.” Max took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got involved, but when I saw him try to hit you that day . . .” He shook his head.

“It’s not always that bad. I mean, it’s not great, but usually he leaves me alone.” I frowned. “Says I remind him of my mom too much.”

“What happened to your mom?”

“She left. When I was little.” I shrugged. “No clue where she is or why she left—though I can guess it was because of my father.”

His jaw tensed and without him saying anything, I knew what he was thinking. That it was deplorable for a parent to leave a child in such a situation. I agreed with him, which was why I didn’t mourn the loss.

“What about . . . what about Marty’s father?” He looked down at the ground. “Do you share custody with him?”

“No.” I guess we were going to air out all of my dirty secrets. “Jared disappeared as soon as I told him I was pregnant.”

“You must have been young.” He watched me with thoughtful eyes. “That would have been hard.”

“I’ve done easier things.”

“You’re a really great mother.” His eyes were sincere.

“Thanks.” I smiled at him. “I try.”

“It shows.”

My heart felt a little lighter with that simple sentence. “I never wanted Marty to want for anything.”

“It would seem like you’ve given him everything that he needs.” He pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down. “He’s a great kid.”

“I think so.” I smiled at him.

We sat there for a minute, just looking at each other, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is that an artist thing?”

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“Staring at people.” I shook my head. “You were staring at me.”

“Well, you’re beautiful.” He said the words as if it should be obvious.

I looked away from him and laughed.

“What?” He smiled.

“I’m not even wearing any makeup.” I shook my head. “And yet you saying that made me feel more beautiful than I ever have.”

His smile took on a hint of pride. “Do you remember dancing with me at Alex’s wedding?”

“I do. You looked rather grumpy when you asked me to dance.” It had been one of those pure moments of deliciousness. Something I thought I’d look back on with fondness. The night a prince flirted with me and asked me to dance. That wasn’t something that most people could claim.

“Well, I hate being paraded around.” He shrugged. “That many people get to me.”

“Then why’d you ask me to dance?”

“You were gorgeous that night, but I like you like this just as much.” His eyes watched me closely and I tried to hide my smile.

“Do they teach princes to say things like that when you’re growing up? How to Melt a Woman’s Heart 101?”

“Actually the class is called Panty-Dropping 101.” He raised one eyebrow.

I looked down at my feet. “Nope. They’re still in place. Maybe you need a refresher course.”

“I’ll have to get the ol’ schoolbooks back out.” His eyes twinkled.

We were flirting. I was in a room in his house, my son was playing outside with a princess, and we were flirting.

“You realize that my father kicked you out of his house earlier and now you’re flirting with me.” I shook my head. “I thought you didn’t like drama.”

“Well, I would have flirted with you there, but that option was taken away.” He stood up and held his hand out to me. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?” I let him take my hand.

“I figured I’d give you the grand tour.” His fingers twined with mine and my heart raced like a schoolgirl’s. “Unless you have something else to do.”

“No, I think my schedule has been cleared for today.”

He walked me through the house, pointing out his family members’ rooms. I tried hard to ignore the fact that his room was directly across from mine. I was the mother of a six-year-old boy. Why was I so nervous to let this man lead me around?

“This is my studio.” He opened the door to a large room full of bright sunlight. “It used to be my mother’s office, but she gave it to me. The lighting in here is perfect.”

“Where does she work now?” I stepped into the room and took in the canvases leaning against the walls, the drop cloths that were speckled with paint, and the pictures that were tacked along the walls.

“In a room downstairs.” He watched me as I walked around the space.

There were tons of half-finished projects around the room, sketches pinned to boards, and photographs taped to a desk. Finished pieces leaned against the wall as if they were trash or forgotten.

I knelt down and looked at a painting of a city scene. New buildings were interspersed with old buildings. Brick and metal caught with casual strokes. I could imagine the sounds that he would have heard while working on the piece. On the terrace of an apartment sat a grandmother with a small boy. The old and the new.

Standing up, I walked around the room, uncovering treasures that were half obscured with discarded projects or trash. He followed behind me as I walked through his sanctum and I wondered what he was thinking.

“You’re messy.” I glanced at him.

“Comes with the trade.” He shrugged.

“I would figure your studio would be full of fur rugs and images of nudes.”

“Well, you haven’t seen my room yet.”

“Ah, that’s where you keep them.” I cut my eyes at him, a little worried that he wasn’t joking. “And is your bearskin rug in front of a fireplace?”

His eyes sparkled down at me. “I spilled chocolate milk on the fake bearskin rug when I was little.”

“Naughty.”

“You have no idea.” He took a step closer to me and my back hit the wall.

“I have a pretty big imagination.” I whispered the words, but my attention was focused on his mouth.

“We should test that out.”

“Could be dangerous.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.” His reached up to touch my face with one hand, his other hand pressed against the wall next to my shoulder.

“Max.” I wasn’t sure why I said his name. Did I want him to stop? Was I begging for more? I wasn’t sure.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to kiss you.” His eyes met mine in all seriousness. His fingers caressed my jaw, sending shivers down my body. “Because it’s all I can think of doing.”

I licked my lips and watched as his pupils dilated. His breath fanned across my face and I reached up and placed a hand on his chest. His heart beat against my fingertips and I couldn’t drag my eyes from his.

I shouldn’t want him to kiss me. I shouldn’t. I didn’t kiss men. It was too real.

But I did want him to kiss me. I wanted so much more than just a kiss.

“Kiss me.”

Something akin to victory lit his features, but he didn’t rush for the prize. Instead he leaned forward and barely grazed my lips with his. I could feel his heart jackhammering under my touch, matching my own.

“Are you sure?”

“Kiss me, damn it.” I fisted my hand in his shirt and tugged him toward me.

He wasted no time. His lips pressed against mine as he tilted my head up. There was nothing held back this time, nothing left to the imagination. He nipped my bottom lip between his teeth and I gasped in pleasure. He was in control of the kiss, his tongue soft but determined as it tangled with mine.

I ran my free hand through his hair, grabbing a handful so that he couldn’t pull away until I was ready. His body pressed into mine so that I could feel every delicious muscle under his shirt, the strength in his thighs. His hands went to my waist, pushing my shirt up so that his fingers were touching my skin.

It was just as good as the first time he had kissed me. Maybe even better. I could become addicted to the way he felt pressed against me, the way he tasted.

When he broke the kiss, it was only to trail soft kisses down my neck. His breath rushed over my cleavage and I felt my nipples tighten in excitement just before his lips glided across my collarbone. Warm fingers inched upward under my shirt until they were tracing the wire of my bra. His mouth covered mine again and I let my hands explore his chest. Tracing the hard lines of his body all the way down to where his plaid shirt was tucked into his jeans.

I let my fingers run along the top of his belt, tracing the dips created by his muscles, and around to his back, where I tugged at his shirt. My fingers ran over his skin, delighting in the way he had increased our kiss, as if I had pushed him to the edge. His hand moved to cup my breast and I moaned into his mouth. His traced my nipple through the thin material of my bra with his thumb and I arched against him.

“Meredith,” he whispered against my ear. “You’re killing me.”

“I’m not done yet.” Pulling his face back to mine I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth. If I was going to break my cardinal rule for men, then I was going to shatter it to pieces.

His free hand slid down to cup my ass, pressing his excitement against my side. With soft fingers he rolled my nipple before gently pinching it. My head fell back and I groaned. It felt good to be touched. It felt right to be touched by Max.

I slid my hands around to the front of his shirt, untucking it so I could touch more of him. He slid one leg between mine and I bucked against him. He groaned before pulling his mouth from mine. He trailed his teeth down my neck, making me shiver.

I should stop. Should tell him that I didn’t sleep with people, hadn’t slept with anyone since Marty’s father, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I needed what he was offering me. I needed Max. The man who created beautiful paintings. The man who had stood up to my father. The man who had whisked me and my son away to somewhere safe.

His hand left my breast, but only to lift me off the ground so that he was pressed between my legs. I ground against him and moaned into his ear while he kissed my neck.

“Damn it.” He groaned. “Door. Gotta close the door.”

He pulled me away from the wall and kicked the door shut before turning the lock with one hand. Pressing us back against the wall, he pulled my boots off and threw them to the side.

“What about Marty?” I lifted my eyes to his.

“He’ll be fine. I promise.” He set me down and ran a hand along my cheek. “I wouldn’t leave him if he wasn’t.”

He kissed me again, this time tenderly as he worked my sweater up over my body. When he moved back to pull the sweater over my head, I started working on the buttons of his shirt, quickly making my way down before pushing the shirt off his shoulders. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the collar of his undershirt and pulled it over his head, discarding it with my sweater.

Looking up at him, I worked his belt loose and pulled it from the belt loops before dropping it on the ground. His chest was perfectly sculpted muscle, and my mouth begged to run over it. He brushed some of my hair out of my face before leaning down to kiss me. One of his hands fisted in my hair at the base of my neck while the other reached around to undo my bra.

He slid the straps off my shoulders and I stepped back just enough to let the flimsy material fall to the ground between us. His warm fingers undid the button to my jeans and traced along the top of my panties.

One of his hands grazed my breast and I closed my eyes in pleasure.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Perfect.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I gasped as his fingers dipped into my panties, teasing me.

Pulling me away from the wall, he worked my jeans down and I kicked them to the side. I had a momentary bit of fear as I worried about whether or not I had shaved my legs, but it was forgotten when he stood back up and caught one of my breasts with his mouth. His tongue stroked my hardened nipple before raking it with his teeth.

His hand slid between my legs, teasing me, and I moaned loudly before biting my lip. It had been so long. So long since I’d been touched that way.

He lifted his head and pressed his mouth to mine, his tongue eagerly exploring. The sound of his zipper filled my ears and panic shot through me. Was I really going to do this? And then his hand was pulling my panties down and the cool air rushed across my bare skin. When his hardened shaft pressed against my skin, I sucked in a lungful of air.

Sensing my panic, his kiss slowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I looked into his green eyes and took a deep breath.

“We can stop.”

“I don’t want to.” I said the words quietly. There, my barriers were gone. The truth was out. “I want you.”

“Thank God.” He pressed his mouth back to mine before lifting me in his arms. He laid me down on a small sofa before covering my body with his. Hungrily I pulled at him, eager for the feel of his skin pressed against mine. I felt like he had lit me on fire and only his touch would put it out.

His mouth covered my breast while his hand slid between my legs. I bucked when he dipped one finger inside and then groaned when another joined the first.

His mouth captured my groan as I writhed beneath him. Reaching out, I stroked along his stomach until I could wrap my fingers around his manhood. He hissed in pleasure before shifting so that I could stroke him better. He mumbled things in Lilarian as we touched each other; half words and phrases while lost in pleasure.

When I was nearing my peak, he pulled his hand away and moved so that he was hovering between my legs.

“Not yet.” He leaned down and tugged on my ear with his teeth. “I want to be inside you when you come.”

He rubbed at my opening before slowly filling me. The light streaming into the room made his eyes shimmer with a symphony of colors. My own eyes started to drift shut, but he touched my cheek.

“Watch me, Meredith,” he whispered in Lilarian. “I want to see your eyes when you finish.”

When he began to move, it was slow and steady. Long, deep strokes, as he pulled out and then filled me again. And again. My body arched with him, meeting him thrust for thrust. With the hand that he wasn’t using to brace himself, he cupped my breast, kneading it softly.

My eyes closed in pleasure and he gave a deep, masculine chuckle. “Not yet. I want to see you.”

I opened my eyes, giving him what he asked. I’d give him anything he asked for at that moment.

He shifted and I groaned loudly. He found just the right spot and I could hold on no longer.