Royal Mistake #3 Read online

  I press against her again, skin to skin this time. The soft curves of her body seem to mold perfectly to the hard planes of my chest. Our mouths find each other once more, our lips fighting against each other. Her hands return to my back, and her nails graze my skin.

  My hands move down to her hips then around to her ass. I pull her hips hard against mine, showing her how much I need her. How much we need each other. She moans again.

  She’s wearing a skirt, thank God. I slip my hands beneath the fabric and find the lace of her underwear. In one motion, I slip my thumbs beneath the edges and push her panties down her legs. Then I slide my fingers between her thighs, drawing another gasp from her as I find the wetness there.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Victoria,” I say roughly. “If you want to stop, if you want to deny this, then—”

  “No.” Her voice sounds just as ragged as my own. “Don’t stop.”

  I slide my fingers against her again, and another sound of pleasure spills from her lips. Her hands go to my belt. She seems just as desperate, just as eager as I feel.

  She’s trembling in my arms. I have to help her with my belt—I can’t wait any longer. Nothing else matters right now but her. I need to experience her fully, to give her pleasure and to take my own. To quench this hunger that has gnawed at me for days now, growing and growing until it became the wild, unmanageable demand flowing through my veins right now. It is a force beyond my control. Beyond everything.

  My pants are down. I grab her ass again and lift her, pressing her back against the bookshelf as I pull her up. Her arms wrap around my neck and her legs around my waist. A couple of books tumble over on the shelves behind her, but neither of us seems to care. There’s only one thing either of us needs right now.

  I am a man possessed, completely driven by desire. My senses are completely filled with her—the taste of her on my lips, the scent of her enveloping me, the feel of her body against mine. I shift, positioning myself between her legs, and an animal-like sound rumbles up from my chest as my cock slides against her slick heat. One move, one thrust, and I’ll be inside her, buried deep in her sweet body, lost in her completely.

  My mouth finds her ear again.

  “My God, Victoria. You have no idea what you do to me.” I know this is wrong. Foolish. That it is against everything I stand for, against everything I’ve said I wanted for myself and for Montovia. But I’ve lost complete control, surrendered to this.

  Victoria whimpers. She shifts slightly in my arms, making our bodies slide together, and her eyes fly open. We both seem to realize we are at the point of no return, that everything will be different from this point forward.

  I search her gaze, making sure she’s ready. She gives a small, almost imperceptible nod.

  My lips come down on hers again. At the same time, I shift my hips, pressing forward—

  And suddenly her hands are digging into my shoulders, pushing me back. She wrenches her mouth away from mine.

  “Condom,” she chokes out.

  I freeze, my stomach tightening. How could I forget?

  Part of me wants to drive into her anyway, to succumb to the desire and forget everything else. And we would forget, too—I can tell by how easily we both chose to ignore all the reasons we shouldn’t be doing this in the first place.

  The other part of me is disgusted with myself for being so careless. I should have known better. Been prepared. Had enough control to keep myself out of such an irresponsible situation. I am the crown prince of Montovia. I can’t afford to father a bastard child—especially not now.

  I nearly drop her as I try to regain control of myself. She manages to find her feet, but I’m in a daze. My body is still taut with need, but it can’t happen like this. It’s too risky.

  If she hadn’t remembered, if she hadn’t stopped you…

  I don’t want to think about what I would have done. How this would have ended. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself—that much is certain. I wouldn’t have had the control to stop and pull out before…

  Victoria is grabbing her clothes. Hastily pulling them back on.

  “Victoria,” I say, and my voice still sounds raw.

  She doesn’t look at me. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I should have been prepared—”

  “No. It shouldn’t have happened at all. You’re meeting your future bride tonight, remember?” She has all her clothes back on, but she still doesn’t turn toward me.

  I’m trying to refasten my belt, but I reach out and touch her arm. She flinches.

  “This is inevitable, Victoria,” I say. “Surely you must see that.”

  “Which part is inevitable?” she demands, turning. “You mean us sleeping together? Or do you mean the part where all of this ends with you marrying your cousin?” She gives a sharp shake of her head. “Nothing is inevitable, Your Highness. I shouldn’t have let things go this far. And I’m glad at least one of us had the sense to stop it before we made a mistake we couldn’t go back from.”

  She pulls away from me and marches toward the door.

  “Victoria!” I call after her. I can’t go chasing after her like this—I still don’t have my shirt on.

  I grab my undershirt and shirt and quickly pull them on. I’m still doing up the buttons on my shirt when I reach the door, but the corridor beyond is empty. Victoria is already gone.

  I curse and jerk a hand through my hair. I want to go after her. To pull her back into my arms and kiss her until we both forget about everything again—especially the Lady Clarissa. But the risk is too great. If I lose control again, if Victoria doesn’t stop me this time… It won’t do. We cannot risk Victoria becoming pregnant.

  I slam the side of my fist against the door frame. My entire body seems to throb, tense with unspent desire. But I’m not Leopold. I can’t give up my responsibilities over the demands of my cock. Right now, my responsibility is to prepare for the imminent arrival of Lady Clarissa.

  I hope she’s calmed down a bit since the last time we met, I think. When we were younger, Lady Clarissa was prone to dramatics—she’d behave perfectly in fine company, but in private I always found her quite exhausting. She was quick to laugh and quick to cry, and she was always taking offense at one thing or another—she seemed to operate under the assumption that other people’s choices, both good and bad, revolved around her. But she does a fine job of managing her public reputation—the people of Montovia seem to love her.

  I rub my forehead. She was always a pretty girl—blessed with strawberry blond hair and the blue eyes that seem to run in all branches of our family—and the photographs I’ve seen recently show she’s grown into an even more beautiful woman. But in spite of everything, I find myself wishing she looked a little more like Victoria—dark hair, bright eyes, delicate curves… God, I don’t think anyone but Victoria would satisfy me now.

  There’s still time before the wedding, I tell myself. You and Victoria will still have your chance.

  Tonight, though, I have to ignore my body’s urges and focus on Montovia’s future.

  Victoria

  I’m out of breath by the time I reach my room, I raced here so quickly. I can’t believe what I almost allowed to happen back there. And I can’t believe I stopped him.

  A condom? What the hell was I thinking?

  It doesn’t matter—it stopped him. It stopped me. Part of me understands that Andrew and I are going to have to get this over with sooner or later, especially if we end up alone together again. And how will we be able to avoid that? He’s going to want to read every last word of what I’m writing about him. He’s not going to leave me alone until he does.

  Sooner will definitely be better than later—at least we can get it over with before he chooses his princess. I guess I’m just not sure how I can separate my heart from the equation. Every time I’m near Andrew—every time he holds me in his arms—I feel myself falling a little more under his spell.

  And he’s completely obli
vious.

  If his concern is an unwanted pregnancy, well, he doesn’t need to worry about that. Not that we shouldn’t use a condom—I mean, I know he’s not like Leopold, having sex with any woman who moves. But who knows what Andrew is like in private? He’s just as attractive and almost as charming. There’s no way for me to know if he’s been with a bunch of women. I should be just as worried about getting an infection of some sort as he is of getting me pregnant.

  I close my eyes for a second when I think of that word. Pregnant. I’m almost glad Elle hasn’t been around—she’s probably not showing yet, but if I spend much more time in the palace, it’s going to become increasingly difficult for me to be near her.

  My heart twists in my chest when I remember why, but I shove the feelings back down where they belong.

  She’ll be there tonight…

  Shit.

  I walk into the closet and pull out one of the cocktail dresses I chose the other day—the one with pockets. I slip in a small notepad, pen, and the phone the royal family provided for me. I twist my hair into a low bun on my way back down to the reception hall where Lady Clarissa and her family will be entertained tonight.

  It’s probably best that I’m not too made up and that my hair looks like I did it on my way here. This night isn’t about me. It’s about Andrew.

  And Lady Clarissa.

  A servant—he might be a butler or some sort of footman—nods to me as I enter the hall. It’s a much smaller area than the ballroom where the state dinner was held a few weeks ago, but there aren’t nearly as many people here, either. I see Leo with Elle on his arm in the far corner of the room, their backs turned to me, and they seem to be oblivious to anyone else in the room.

  Thank God. I don’t want to have to think about Elle and her baby. Not yet.

  King Edmund and Queen Penelope are closer to me, chatting with an older couple I don’t recognize, but guess from the formal dress they are very likely Lady Clarissa’s parents. Sophia and William are near the fireplace, chatting with two younger men—also people I don’t recognize, but given the crests on their jackets, I assume are Montovian royalty of some sort—Clarissa’s brothers, maybe?

  And Andrew is several feet away from anyone, standing with a young woman who places a hand on his forearm as she laughs at something he’s just said.

  She must be Lady Clarissa.

  She’s beautiful—long reddish-blond hair flowing over her shoulders and bright blue eyes—almost the same color as Andrew’s.

  I pull out my notebook and jot down a few of my observations.

  I must be engrossed in my notes because I startle when I feel a hand on my back.

  I look up into shining blue eyes, and for a second, I think that Andrew has come over. My heart races for only a moment until I realize it isn’t Andrew—it’s William.

  He smiles at me and guides me closer to the wall. He pulls two champagne flutes from a passing tray and hands one to me. “What could you possibly be writing at a party such as this?” He glances over at Andrew for a moment before looking back at me. “You’re not close enough to hear what they’re saying.”

  I shrug, slipping the notebook back into my pocket before I take a sip of the champagne. “I brought my phone to make a recording if either of them want to give me a quote. I can’t imagine that’s going to happen tonight, though.”

  “Then why be here at all?”

  Sophia joins us before I have the chance to answer. She grabs a flute of champagne, too, draining the glass before she sets it on the tray and takes another. She smiles at me. “This might be the most dull party I have ever been to.” She glances at William. “Isn’t Lady Clarissa our cousin?”

  He chuckles. “Yes, I believe that may have been what Mother and Father were having their row over last night.”

  “Ah.” She nods before she drains half her glass. She looks over at me, a slow grin spreading over her face. “You haven’t been properly introduced to my brother, have you, Victoria?”

  I shake my head, extending my hand. “No, I don’t believe I have—”

  He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips, brushing a kiss over the back of my fingers. “Delighted, I’m sure.”

  “Uh, same.” I gently pull my hand away from his.

  “Victoria fences, William.” Her gaze darts between the two of us. “I know it isn’t my place to say so, but the two of you would make an excellent match.” She giggles. “As dueling partners, of course.”

  I suppress my urge to roll my eyes. “Of course.” Princess Sophia seems to have inherited the same matchmaking gene her mother possesses.

  He grins. “Sophia mentioned you were skilled with the épée. I’ll admit, I’ve not done much in the way of fencing since beginning my military training a few years ago, but I do enjoy sparring with a skilled partner. If you’d ever care to join me—”

  “She would be honored,” Sophia interrupts with a grin.

  His eyes narrow playfully at his sister. “I would imagine that Victoria might like to answer for herself, Sophia.”

  She grins at me and nods, her eyes wide.

  “I might enjoy that if I have any time off. Though I can’t imagine I won’t be busy following your brother around on his dates or with writing his stories—”

  “Nonsense,” Sophia interrupts again. “You’ll have plenty of time away from our stodgy brother.” She glances over her shoulder at Andrew. “Besides, once he’s chosen his bride, they’ll need all the privacy they can get.” She gives me a suggestive wink.

  It’s a little hard to ignore the way my stomach twists on itself when she says those words.

  But the twisting is nothing compared to the feeling of being punched in the gut when Andrew and his date walk over and join our group.

  “Ah, yes.” Andrew nods a greeting to each of us. “Lady Clarissa, you remember my siblings, William and Sophia?”

  She laughs—a lilting, almost forced giggle. “Of course.”

  Andrew turns to me. His smile falls when his eyes meet mine, but I’m sure I’m the only one who can see it. “And this is the reporter I was telling you about. Victoria Simpson, please meet Lady Clarissa. Her mother and father are the Duke and Duchess of Eastburn.”

  I only plan to nod at her, but she stretches out her hand, her palm down as though she expects me to bring it to my lips or something.

  I am not kissing this woman’s hand. My brow furrows, but I give her fingers a squeeze—an almost pathetic handshake.

  She pulls her hand away in disgust, turning to Andrew with a look of outrage.

  He smiles, placing a hand on her forearm. “Forgive her, Clarissa. Ms. Simpson is not noble born. She’s an American.”

  Her lip curls. “A commoner?”

  Something about the way she says that word makes the jealous twisting in my stomach turn hard as a rock. It’s difficult not to clench my teeth and say something equally nasty to her, but I bite my tongue and decide to glare at Andrew for not defending me further.

  But he’s oblivious. He seems positively enchanted by the woman standing next to him.

  William slides closer to me, placing a hand on my back. He pats his hand on the back of my shoulder, almost like he’s trying to comfort me from the sting of Clarissa’s words.

  His fingers slide around to hold the top of my arm before he interrupts his brother’s conversation. “Brother, did you hear I have a new sparring partner?”

  Andrew’s gaze snaps to William’s before it slowly moves to mine. His eyes only meet mine for a second before he snaps them back to William. “I’m afraid Ms. Simpson will be far too busy to be sparring with anyone.”

  William’s fingers curl possessively over the top of my shoulder. “I hardly think she’ll be slave to these proceedings, do you, Brother?”

  “What proceedings?” Clarissa’s eyes dart between the two men. “What is he talking about?”

  Sophia laughs. “Uh oh. Did someone forget to let our cousin in on the big story—?”

  W
illiam’s foot comes down on hers and she yelps.

  Clarissa’s eyes widen and she turns slowly to Andrew. “What story, Andrew? I was told the decision had already been made.”

  He gives her a pained smile, glancing at me for only a moment before he turns back to her. He places a hand on her shoulder. “Come. I’ll explain it to you over here.”

  William and Sophia both begin laughing as the couple walks to the other side of the room.

  William’s hand seems to have found a home on my shoulder—he hasn’t moved it the entire time and doesn’t pull it away after Andrew leaves.

  He turns to his sister again. “You really must learn some decorum, Sophia. If Father hears—”

  “Oh, let him exile me. I’d welcome being allowed to travel without the constant threat of punishment for my misbehavior.” She turns her head to the back of the room before looking back at William and me. “Speaking of misbehaving, I need to ask Leopold to assist me with something.” She tries to suppress her grin. “A…surprise for our cousin.”

  She nods at me with another grin and almost skips to the back of the room where Leo and Elle are standing.

  William’s hand slides from the top of my arm down to the small of my back and he guides me to a more secluded part of the room.

  He turns and pulls his hand away from my back, taking my hand into his instead. “I meant what I said about our sparring. I’d love if you’d join me tomorrow after the festivities with our cousins have concluded.” He squeezes my fingers.

  “I…I think I’d like that.” If nothing else, a little exercise would help me work off some of the pent up energy that’s been building inside me since I met Andrew. And fencing would definitely be a better outlet for that energy than having sex with Andrew.

  That’s the story I’m sticking to, anyway.

  “Wonderful.” He smiles. He has the same charm in his expression as his brothers have. “We can meet after dinner. I can meet you in your suite or you can—”