Royals Saga 3 Crown Me (6 page)

His blue eyes swept over me. “Is everything all right?”

I didn’t answer. I just walked into his arms. He folded them around me without any more questions. I told myself it wasn’t a lie. I told myself I had nothing to lie to him about. I told myself he wasn’t lying to me.

I suspected I was actually lying to myself.

C
larence House was stuffed full of diplomats and distant relatives. The few friendly faces in the crowd were courtesy of Clara’s guest list and Edward’s good sense. Still, I had to hand it to my younger brother, he’d managed to make the whole event somehow feel festive—a rare feat for any Royal gathering. The crowd had been trickling in for the past hour, swelling until the party spilled throughout most of the main floor. Despite the party’s liveliness, the fact that I’d been separated from Clara for the third time in the space of that hour was unacceptable.

Spotting her, I sidestepped a Russian diplomat with a terse nod and headed in her direction. She was huddled with Belle, no doubt avoiding her parents, whispering. My breath rasped at the sight of her. I wondered if she’d been advised to play up the blushing bride bit for today. If she had been, I wished I could thank whoever had suggested it. Her dark hair was gathered loosely, cascading in waves over her shoulder and providing contrast to her porcelain skin. But it was her dress that made my cock twitch. The ivory lace skimmed over her curves in a tempting mix of innocence and sensuality. Drawing up behind her, I pressed my palm to the small of her back. Under my hand, her skin heated through the thin fabric.

It took considerable effort to remind myself that now was neither the time nor place. It took even more effort to convince my dick.

“I thought we were celebrating our engagement,” I said in a low voice, “but I can’t seem to keep track of my fiancée.”

Belle grinned, shaking her head. “Should I leave you two alone? Word to the wise, this place has like fifty rooms, but please find one that locks.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Clara smacked her best friend lightly on the arm.

“Speaking of dirty minds,” Belle said, “I see Philip. Maybe I’ll go find one of those locking rooms.”

Clara sighed, leaning against my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around her, enjoying what was certain to be a brief moment of privacy. “I wish I was half as comfortable at these things as she was.”

I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully, watching Belle navigate the room with a beaming smile. Clara’s best friend was pretty and charming, but nothing compared to the woman I loved. “I rather like when you get flustered at these events.”

“You do, huh?” She folded against me, pressing more of her sinful body against me—and doing nothing to alleviate the ache in my balls. “Why is that, X?”

I leaned in, brushing my lips over her ear. “Because it gives me an excuse to take you away to collect yourself.”

A shudder rolled through her body. My hand dropped, catching hers and heading toward the hall before she could stop me. I needed her alone. Now. A strong hand clapped onto my shoulder, startling me from my mission. I turned to discover a familiar face.

“Brex!” I dragged him into a tight hug. Next to me Clara shifted, nudging me expectantly.

I drew back, my arm thrown over his shoulder. “Clara, allow me to introduce you to Brexton Miles. The man who is largely responsible for keeping my sorry arse alive.”

“Then it is a pleasure,” she said, reaching out her hand. Brexton caught it and brought it to his lips.

“She’s taken,” I reminded him, shoving him away.

Clara’s cheeks flushed, her arm hooking around mine. I glanced to my old friend and saw him through her eyes—hair clipped short in traditional military fashion, broad shoulders, warm smile, and a pressed uniform. I closed my hand over hers, my smile tightening a little.

“Don’t look so offended, poor boy,” he said, tucking his hat under his arm. “I’d never go after another man’s girl. Now if you cock it up—and I know you will—then all’s fair.”

I smiled in spite of myself. He had no idea how likely it was that I would fuck this up. Not that I’d ever let him—or any other man, for that matter—get that close to her. Regardless of me being in the picture or not.

“Poor boy?” Clara repeated with a laugh, looking at me with curiosity.

“Some wanker gave him that call sign,” Brexton explained. He managed to look innocent except for a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.

“Some wanker, huh?” I said, pointedly. “This guy walks into training, takes one look at me, and then yells ‘who’s getting stuck babysitting poor boy?’”

“The nickname stuck.” Brex shrugged. “And that poor wanker got stuck on babysitting duty.”

Clara bit her lip as if she was trying to hold back more laughter. “So you two served together.”

“I’m not certain you could call it that,” Brex said with mock solemnity.

I rarely discussed my time in Afghanistan with Clara. Unlike many who had returned from the warfront, I hadn’t brought home any ghosts. But only because I’d left them all locked away there in the first place.

“Excuse me,” Brex said, his eyes trained on something over my shoulder. “I think I just found my soul mate.”

“Soul mate?”

“At least for tonight.” He winked at Clara and her blush deepened.

“What poor woman have you got in…” I turned to see who had caught Brex’s eye this time and stopped mid-sentence.

That was the thing about locking your past into closets—ghosts could walk through doors.

“Georgia Kincaid,” Clara said, putting a name to the face I wished I could forget.

I glanced at her, hardly able to suppress my discomfort at hearing her speak that name.

“Then you know her.” Brex stepped to Clara’s side and took her free arm. “Introduce me.”

“I don’t know her as well as Alexander.”

How the fuck did she know that? How the fuck did she even know Georgia’s name?

“You know all those times I saved your life?” Brex said, as he nodded toward Georgia.

But before I could come up with a good excuse to keep him away from her, Clara started toward her.

Georgia had worn a slinky black dress to my engagement party, which pretty fucking well summed up where her and I stood. I had no doubt she was here at the request of her employer. Something I would be certain to speak to Hammond about.

“The happy couple!” She lifted her glass and smiled as though we were all old friends.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Clara said in a clipped but polite tone.

“I had no idea you two had met.” I couldn’t quite keep an edge of accusation from my tone, but I wasn’t certain if my displeasure was directed at Georgia for being here or at Clara for not telling me they’d met.

Because it was pretty goddamn clear that Clara had some idea about my past with her.

“I’m certain Clara didn’t want to ruin the surprise, and now I’ve ruined it.” Georgia looked anything but sorry.

Clara shrugged the thin shoulders that I wanted to shake. “No secret. Alexander knows we’re getting married. My purchasing a wedding band shouldn’t surprise him.”

Despite her nonchalant attitude, her body had gone rigid as soon as she saw Georgia and still hadn’t relaxed. I drew Clara’s hand up to my lips and kissed it softly. How she’d met Georgia didn’t matter, the fact that she was clearly upset at the woman’s presence did matter. She obviously knew that we’d been involved, but I couldn’t imagine that she understood the true nature of our relationship.

I suspected we’d be discussing that very soon.

“I, however, am not getting married.” Brex shifted forward and extended a hand.

The proceeding introduction was made all the more painful by how oblivious Brex seemed to be to the awkward dynamic the rest of us shared.

“Will you excuse us?” I asked. “I believe Edward wanted Clara for…”

I trailed away when I realized Brex and Georgia were far more interested in flirting than hearing my excuse. I whisked Clara through the adjoining morning room to the first private room I could think of. It was an office of some sort, likely unused, since none of the family officially occupied this residence at present. The drapes were pulled, allowing only slivers of daylight to break through.

Shutting the door, and locking it as Belle had suggested, I rounded on her. “When did you meet Georgia?”

“A few weeks ago.” Clara rubbed her arm, and I noticed her lower lip had begun to quiver. “Who is she?”

“An ex.” It was what she was expecting to hear, and mostly true.

“Does she know that?” Clara asked. A single tear glistened on her cheek.

I instantly softened, folding her into my arms. “Poppet, she’s a part of my past. I’m sorry you met her that way.”

“She’s gorgeous,” Clara said softly.

“Is she?”

“You know she is.” Clara wiped her cheeks and turned her head away from me.

I supposed she was, but Georgia’s looks had never been important to me. “In case you failed to notice, I’m rather obsessed with you. I doubt I’d notice if every woman in that room was naked.”

“I know I’m being silly.” She sniffed. “It’s not just her. We all have pasts. I’m overwhelmed. There’s so much to learn—who to curtsy to, what title belongs to whom. I can’t keep any of it straight, and it makes me think…”

She trailed away.

I drew her closer. “Yes?”

“That I’m going to be a terrible wife. I wasn’t cut out for this, X,” she confessed in a whisper. “What if I curtsy to the wrong person or forget to address someone? Did you know there’s an entire blog devoted to chastising me for breach of protocol?”

“You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I give a damn about any of that.” My hold on her tightened. “You could walk into that room and flip everyone off. Your place isn’t to impress them. They should—and they will—bow to you.”

“Bow, huh?” She laughed a little and tugged at my tie, even though tears continued to well in her beautiful eyes.

“Clara Bishop”— my hands dropped to brace her waist —“you’re going to be the Queen. Everyone’s place is at your feet.”

“Everyone’s?” She raised an eyebrow. “I think their place is at your feet, Your Highness.”

“But my place is at your feet. Or have you forgotten that?”

Her fingers twisted around my tie, her chest heaving slightly as our bodies urged closer. “I thought that was my place, X.”

“Sometimes.” I began to draw her skirt up, savoring the slow reveal of her stockings. “Sometimes I wish you on your knees, poppet. But you are my religion. I worship your body, so yes, my place is at your feet.”

I bunched her skirt in my hand and stepped back to admire the delicate lace garter belt and sheer stockings that complimented her curves. I pressed my palm to her thigh and she responded instinctively, spreading wider to grant me the access I craved. My cock strained against my trousers, but this wasn’t about me.

Dropping to one knee and then the other, I hooked a finger around one of the satin straps holding up her stockings and plucked it loose. A strangled cry of anticipation escaped her lips as I unhooked the others and drew her knickers down her hips.

“These are pretty, poppet.” My voice was hoarse as my hunger for her grew. “But unnecessary. Step out of them for me.”

Clara did as she was told. I shoved the scrap of lace in my pocket.

“I’ll hold onto them for you,” I promised her. “It’s better if your cunt is ready for me.”

I drew a finger down her seam, and she shuddered. Her responsiveness was my drug, it filtered into my bloodstream until I was lost in the haze of her. Her scent. Her softness. She grew wetter as I continued to run my finger along her folds, and I had to reach down and adjust myself.

“Yes, please,” she moaned, already lost to me.

“Long live the Queen,” I whispered, dropping a trail of kisses from her belly button down, curving to reach her inner thigh. I breathed her in until my mouth watered. Until all I could think about was fucking her with my mouth until she couldn’t hold herself upright.

My hand slid up to spread her open, revealing the delicate pink spot that was my favorite place in the whole world. My lips closed greedily over her cunt, sucking relentlessly until I’d drawn her clit out. I swirled my tongue over the engorged nub, a rush of testosterone washing through me as she whimpered. Her hips circled against me and my hands flew to her ass, encouraging her to rock against my mouth.

I wanted to devour her. I wanted to turn her inside fucking out on my tongue.

“Fuck my face,” I ordered her in a muffled voice, my mouth still full of her.

But she got the message.

“Oh god, yessss.” Clara pitched against me, my hands rolling her toward me until she lost control, bucking hard as my tongue stroked inside her. Her hands wove into my hair and yanked as she melted over me. Her thighs snapped closed on my face, but I wasn’t finished yet. Slowly I licked, savouring her taste and the way she quivered on my tongue.

“Stop,” she pleaded. “Please.”

I kissed her trembling sex softly as I pried her legs back open. Straightening, I gripped her hips in my hands and waited until she looked down at me. Even in the room’s low light, I could see the dark flush colouring her skin as she shyly met my eyes.

“When you go back out there and from this day forward, remember this,” I said, my voice thick with arousal, “you’ve brought me to my knees. You’ve brought me to my fucking knees, Clara.”

I nuzzled against her stomach, holding her steady until her shaking subsided.