The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  I nodded, a little embarrassed.

  “Don’t hold back. I like you needy,” he said as his fingers dipped beneath my panties, his middle finger finding my clit. Infuriatingly, he just rested his finger lightly on my nub and went back to work on my other nipple.

  “Please,” I cried out, tilting my hips in an effort to create some friction against his finger.

  “There,” he said, slowly circling my clit. “I like to hear everything. Even if it means we fight and then make up. I want to know everything that’s going on in your head, my princess.”

  “Kiss me,” I said with a smile. “But don’t move your hand.”

  He grinned and pressed his lips against mine, his tongue delving deeper.

  “You feel so good, like coming home,” he said as he pulled back to look at me. It was the biggest compliment Sam could have paid me. I understood how difficult it must have been to let me in, but I knew he wanted to, and I would do anything in return. I swept my hands down his back.

  I unhooked my bra and tossed it away while Sam pulled off my panties. I clasped my hands over his shoulders. I liked the feel of him under my fingers. He was so solid, so safe.

  In one swift movement, he slid me to him, my back to his front, and lifted my leg up and back so it leaned on his. I loved the warmth of him enveloping me in this position. “You ready, Princess?” he asked as he teased my sex with the tip of his cock.

  “Always,” I said. I waited as he slipped on a condom.

  “I’ve wanted you so bad all weekend. We have a lot of catching up to do.” He thrust into me, his hand on my hip, pushing me onto him. My body sagged in relief at having him inside me. This was how it should be. Always.

  “I’ve missed this,” I said. “Missed you.”

  “You never need to miss it.” He dragged himself out and thrust up again. “I’m going to try, for you, Grace.”

  His tender words coupled with his hard fucking were the perfect combination. Had he meant what he said?

  My mind went blank as my body began to buzz from the inside out with the beginning of an orgasm.

  “Fuck,” Sam yelled, then pulled out, rolling to his back. “I was so close—too close—I want to make this last,” he said.

  I liked that he’d only been in me a few seconds before his need to come had overtaken him. I shifted to face him and placed a kiss on his sticky, hot chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, stroking my back. “I have no control around you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  He swept his hand down my body, his fingers finding my clit. He stared deep into my eyes as he circled and circled. His gaze made his touch all the stronger. The buzz built in my stomach this time. His movements were steady and small, as if he were patiently and carefully pulling my orgasm from me. I gripped his arm, keeping him in position.

  I let out a groan and he took my bottom lip between his teeth, then slid his tongue into my mouth in strong, possessive strokes, as if to remind me I was his. I groaned and seeped onto his fingers as my body shook and then dissolved into my climax.

  “Jesus, I love it when you come,” he said, pushing me to my back and sliding over me.

  I couldn’t speak. Just smiled and cupped his face with my palm.

  As he pushed into me, pleasure crept up his face. Giving him that sensation was so powerful, I felt myself grow wetter, despite just having come.

  “Christ,” he called out. The muscles in his neck tensed and I stroked a finger over them. “Fuck, Grace.”

  I gasped as he slipped his hand underneath my ass and pulled me up, increasing his rhythm. I was vaguely aware of my headboard cracking against the drywall as his thrusts became more urgent.

  I lifted my legs, wanting to give him more, to pull him closer. He thrust deeper, his breaths heavy on my neck peppered with “You’re all mine” and “Forever.”

  * * *

  “I think we should definitely get a car,” Sam said and I turned to look at him as I was locking the door to my apartment, checking to see if I’d heard him right. “And a driver.”

  Was I reading too much into him saying we? “A driver?”

  “Yeah. We get cabs every day anyway. A driver can drop me at work, then take you to the gallery. If either of us need it, we have it. You agree?” He took my hand, despite the fact that going down stairs side by side was slightly awkward.

  He was talking about a future together—I’d never heard that from him before. “Well, I am a Park Avenue princess, so of course I agree.”

  The air was chilly as we stepped outside, an icy wind tunneled down the street. Some early snow had settled while we were away, but most of it had disappeared. “I think it might snow again,” I said as Sam craned his neck looking for a cab. “Let’s walk to the corner.” I pulled on his arm.

  “The trip won’t be as far when we’re on Park Avenue,” he said. “And we won’t have to wait in the cold for a cab.”

  There was that word again. We. I grinned.

  Before long a cab pulled up and Sam opened the door for me to climb in.

  “The bed arrives tonight,” he said as he sat next to me. “Where do you want to stay?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah. Tonight. Tomorrow.”

  If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he was on the brink of suggesting we move in together. Although I’d detected a shift within him since Connecticut, I wasn’t expecting it to be freewheeling from now on.

  “We could have Angie and Chas over on the weekend,” he said. “Maybe even Harper, Max and all the kids.”

  “Maybe.” I didn’t want to push him, or bring back painful memories if he wasn’t ready. I was determined to give him some time and space to process everything.

  “I really like them. We should invite them.” He squeezed my hand and looked out the window.

  “Just here on the left,” he said to the driver as we approached the gallery.

  The cab stopped and Sam put his hand on mine. “Hey. Before you go. I . . . about that thing you said in Connecticut?”

  I held my breath, unsure what he was going to say, but so hopeful it was what I wanted to hear. I’d not repeated my I love you—I didn’t want to trigger anything. I nodded.

  “Well,” he said, then took a deep breath. “Yeah, well I feel the same.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam

  I’d known I’d loved her since our argument in Connecticut. It was part of the reason I was so mad—she’d managed to make me love her despite all the odds, and despite my every effort not to.

  She narrowed her eyes as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.

  “You know,” I said, wanting to say the actual words but finding it a struggle to push them out. She squeezed my hand. She wasn’t going to make me say it but she deserved to hear it.

  “I love you,” I said.

  Her eyes became watery and I reached to cup her face. I didn’t want her to be sad.

  “I love you, Sam Shaw.”

  I nodded and tried to bite back a grin.

  The cab driver cleared his throat. “I better go,” she said.

  “I don’t want you to.” I wished I’d told her last night and I could have spent hours just holding her close.

  “I’ll see you tonight. Maybe try to leave early and we can have dinner.”

  I turned to the driver. “I’m just going to say goodbye. Hang on.” I wanted to wrap my arms around her before she left for the day, even it was just for a second. Grace opened the cab door as I set foot on the street.

  There was a squeal of brakes, a yell from our driver and then I got thrown back into my seat.

  What the hell? The cab stilled and I turned my head.

  “Grace?” Her passenger door was closed and deformed, and the shattered windshield of another car faced me. Broken glass covered everything.

  We’d been hit.

  “Fuck,” I said, scrambling out of the cab. “Grace!” I shouted, but didn’t see her. As I rounded the trun
k, I expected to find her arms outstretched toward me. But she’d disappeared. “Grace,” I screamed when I found her, lying on the asphalt, her hair sprayed out against the road. It felt like it took hours to get to her. I sank to my knees. Her eyes were shut and her legs twisted awkwardly.

  My heart pounded. Panicked, I stroked her cheek. “Grace,” I said, looking up to find someone standing over me, staring. “Call 9-1-1,” I bellowed then turned back to put my hand on Grace’s chest. An inch of me relaxed as my hand rose and fell with her ribcage.

  What was I supposed to do? I wanted to scoop her up and run to the nearest hospital, but something stopped me from moving her. I shrugged off my coat, pulled my phone from the pocket then draped the coat over her. I called 9-1-1 myself, unsure if the bystander had done as I’d asked. Grace needed help as fast as possible.

  I kept my hand on her cheek as I spoke to the operator, telling her the address over and over again. Why did she keep asking me the same questions? I hung up at the same time the sirens started to wail. It was going to be okay. It had to be. I couldn’t lose her.

  I lifted Grace’s hand just slightly off the road and slid mine underneath it. That’s when the scent of metal hit me. It wasn’t the engine. It was more subtle than that. I kept seeing images of my old family car.

  Blood coated my fingers. Jesus. Where was she bleeding? How could I stop it? I scanned down her body, unable to see an obvious cause.

  I closed my eyes, willing time to rewind, wanting to see how in an alternate universe, I had forced her to get out of my side of the cab.

  “Sir, you have to move out of the way.” The words were so slow I didn’t understand until I’d been moved.

  “Grace,” I said when someone asked her name.

  They spoke to her, telling her what they were doing as they wrapped her neck in a support and three of them put her on a stretcher. But all their voices overlapped. I tried to separate them, wanting to hear what each one of them said, desperate to know if she’d be okay. Because that’s what I had to hear.

  But I knew what faces looked like when the news was bad.

  I didn’t love people. I couldn’t love people.

  Bile steamed up from my stomach and I vomited over the car parked next to the cab. Acid continued to rise, coating my throat and my mouth. It felt selfish, getting sick while the best person I knew was dying on a stretcher.

  I wretched again, until finally nothing came out. I wiped my mouth and straightened, trying to see what was happening with Grace. A man in a uniform led me over to the ambulance. I couldn’t hear what he said. I saw his lips move, but I couldn’t focus. I just kept looking back and forth between him and the ambulance.

  I stumbled toward the back and took a seat next to Grace.

  I wanted to do something, anything to save her. I should have taken a first aid course or something. I looked around, but no one was doing anything.

  I should call someone. I didn’t have her parents’ number but I did have Harper’s. She’d know what to do. I dialed.

  “Harper. There’s been an accident. Get Grace’s parents.”

  “What? Is she okay?”

  I couldn’t answer that question. “Call her parents. Tell them to come to the hospital.”

  “Where are you?”

  I glanced out of the window. “In an ambulance.”

  “Fuck, Sam, which hospital?”

  I had no idea. “Which hospital are we going to?” I asked the woman next to me.

  “Mount Sinai West,” she replied.

  “I heard. I’m on my way,” Harper said.

  “Grace . . .” I wanted to hold her so badly. I’d swap places with her in an instant if God would let me. An oxygen mask obscured her face, and her arms lay straight at her sides. I slid my fingers over the smooth skin of her arm. Where was her coat? I glanced down her body. Her legs. They’d been twisted and covered in blood when I’d seen them.

  “Where is she bleeding?” I asked, but didn’t catch the response through the fog in my head.

  I fixed my stare on Grace, willing her to wake up, willing her to be okay, willing my life force into her.

  The ambulance stopped and the doors swung open. I followed the paramedics, who slid Grace’s stretcher out onto the street. As my foot hit the asphalt, my legs weakened and I fell to one knee. Someone lifted me under my arms and I found my footing, chasing after Grace’s gurney.

  As I got through the doors, someone’s hand pushed at my chest, trying to stop me. “Sir, you can’t go through there. They need to perform an exam. Take a seat and someone will come to check you over.” She handed me a clipboard.

  “I’m fine,” I said as I strained to see where they were taking Grace.

  I dared not blink in case I missed news of her.

  Finally, I sat, ignoring the clipboard. I waited. And waited.

  “Sam.”

  I looked up to find Harper standing over me.

  “Is she okay?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Sam,” she yelled, pushing at my shoulders. “Where is she?”

  Thankfully, one of the nurses came over and answered Harper’s questions.

  Helplessness, a feeling I’d spent so long trying to avoid, consumed me. I didn’t want to listen to Harper—I wanted to see Grace. I slumped forward, my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees. Why had I insisted we take a cab? If we’d taken the subway, we wouldn’t have been on the road. Or if I’d hired a driver, or just been sitting on the other side of the taxi . . .

  “Sir, can you follow me? I need to do an exam,” said a nurse in pink scrubs as Harper took the seat next to me. I didn’t want to; I wanted to sit here and wait for Grace. I needed her to be okay. Even if I were fighting impossible odds, if I sat here, maybe there was a chance.

  When my parents died, no one had told me anything. I never saw them in the hospital, never saw them stretchered off into the ambulance. I remember being at the hospital, on a bed behind a curtain, and then being taken overnight to a stranger’s home. I wouldn’t let that happen this time, this time I’d get to say goodbye.

  “No. I’m staying here,” I said.

  “We’ll have to perform the exam here. You’ve been sick and you’re likely in shock. I have to insist—”

  “Okay, fine. But I’m not going anywhere.”

  As the nurse poked a thermometer into my ear, I spotted Grace’s parents at the reception desk.

  “Harper,” I said, nodding at them.

  She went over to Grace’s mother, then gave her the clipboard, as if the responsibility for Grace’s welfare had been passed from me to them.

  That was how it should be.

  I had no business in Grace’s life. I’d taken things too far.

  The electric doors opened for the first time since Grace had gone through them. I stood to speak to the person who walked through, but it was only a courier and of no use to me.

  “Sit down, sir,” my nurse said, pushing me toward my seat and handing me a white plastic cup of water. “Take small sips.”

  She shouldn’t be here, wasting her time on me when there was Grace to look after. “Can you see about Grace?”

  “They’re still doing tests,” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder.

  As she left, her parents approached me. What could I say to them? I’d failed to keep their daughter safe. “Are you okay?” her mother asked me.

  “I’m sorry,” I stuttered.

  Harper moved down a chair and Grace’s mother sat beside me and patted me on the knee. Her father paced in front of us.

  “I should have stopped her.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Harper said a car ran into the side of the cab,” Grace’s mother said.

  How did Harper know that? Had I told her?

  I nodded. “She was getting out. I should have made her get out of my side.”

  “Hush,” she said. “There’s nothing you could have done. Have they given you an exam?
You should insist on a CT.”

  “I’m fine. It’s Grace—”

  “Shhh,” she said, “everything’s going to be okay.”

  She spoke with authority and if I hadn’t understood what came with death, I would have believed her. Nothing was going to be okay if Grace didn’t make it.

  Seconds, minutes, hours passed. I resisted every urge I had to burst through the doors and find Grace. What were they doing?

  Finally, the doors slid open again and this time a nurse came out, clutching a clipboard. “Grace Astor,” she called out.

  The four of us surrounded her, desperate for information. “Grace is doing well. She’s lost some blood but she’s conscious and asking for Sam.”

  It was as if I hit the drop of a roller-coaster ride—fear and excitement tumbled about in my belly. “She’s alive?” I asked.

  “She’s a little banged up, but fine,” the nurse said. “Her CT was clear.”

  She was going to be okay.

  “She’s bruised, and has a mild concussion. She’s broken her leg in two places.” I heard Grace’s mother cry out but I smiled. A broken leg? That was it? “They’ll reset the break this afternoon, then do the cast. We’ve given her something for the pain. She’s conscious and you can see her, but no more than two of you at a time. Sam, shall I take you through?” I should have been magnanimous and offered to let her parents go first, but I had to see Grace, to know for sure she was okay. I followed the nurse without looking back.

  We passed down the first corridor and then turned into a bay of beds. I scanned the room, looking for Grace. The nurse led me to a curtained-off bed and for a split second, before she pulled back the partition, I imagined I’d find someone other than Grace in the bed. I couldn’t quite believe she was okay. They must have mistaken her for someone else.

  I steeled myself as the curtain went back, but almost threw up again when I saw that it was her. Her eyelids fluttered and, finally, Grace opened her eyes and looked at me. “Sam,” she said, her voice croaky.

  I rushed forward, then stopped. I wanted to pull her toward me, but I was almost too scared to touch her. I stepped forward and she lifted her hand. I glanced back at the nurse.