Royal Cocktail

by J. Kenner

  “I can think of a lot of things I’d like you to do that are oral.”

  Skye had just drawn a sip of daiquiri through the straw, immediately started to laugh, then almost ended up choking. She put her hand up to stop Leo from coming to her side of the table, then shot him a narrow-eyed glance. “Are you flirting, Your Highness?”

  “I might be. Now that we’ve cleared the air about girlfriends and fiancés.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t flirt.”

  She bit her lower lip, knowing she should stay silent. But instead she said, “It’s okay. I kind of like it.”

  “Kind of?”

  “I like it,” she said definitively. “And I know—I know it’s not going … anywhere. I … see the whole big picture. I may not sound like it, but I’m … actually pretty smart.”

  “Don’t do that.” His voice had gone hard, and she didn’t have to ask what he meant. But he was wrong. She’d been judged her entire life on how she sounded to people. Most of the time she minded, but in her more lucid moments, she told herself that it gave her an advantage. After all, opposing counsel usually didn’t see her coming.

  Not that she had that many judgey encounters in the first place. For the most part, she’d locked herself in an ivory tower, one her father was now trying to drag her from.

  For the first time in a long time, she felt a niggle of regret for the choices she’d made. Because every once in a while, she did want to be out there, talking and educating. And while she knew that the kids at the zoo weren’t a good representation of what other attorneys and clients could be like, the experience had been a positive one.

  Both the parents and the kids had appreciated what she’d done, and seeing the fascination on the children’s faces as she told them the fun facts reflected on the various plaques around the zoo had been worth whatever discomfort she’d felt talking aloud.

  She looked at Leo, only to find him studying her as well. Their eyes met and held, and she felt a familiar shiver cut through her. He’d always affected her that way, from the first moment she’d seen him in this very bar two years ago. It was like they were the quantum particles he studied, with an undeniable attraction between them.

  Without breaking his gaze, she wrapped her lips around the straw and drew in a long sip of the daiquiri. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and he pressed his lips together, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the edge of the table.

  She sucked harder, feeling flirty and powerful, then pulled her mouth away and slowly licked her lips.

  “You’re trying to kill me.”

  She laughed. “Should I take another sip?”

  He shook his head. “You better not. I don’t want Jürgen to have to take you down for attempted regicide.”

  She waved the words away. “Oh, please. You’re not the king yet.”

  “Thank God for that.” He shook his head. “Even so, best we don’t get too worked up.” He met her eyes. “Yet.”

  “Yet?” Her skin prickled with both anticipation and trepidation. “What do you mean?”

  “We came here for a reason, Skye. And more than just sipping frozen drinks through a straw.”

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll survive. And I promise I reward good effort.”

  Those butterflies were back in her stomach, but she nodded. “I’m up for … anything.”

  He flashed a panty-dropping grin. “I’m very glad to hear that.” Then he lifted his hand, and Tyree, the bar’s founder, came striding toward them holding a clipboard. “You’re about to go announce the drink and appetizer specials,” Leo told her.

  “Well, that just killed the mood.” She scowled at him, but he only laughed.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She rolled her eyes, then laughed, but couldn’t deny that she actually was a little bit sad. The mood had been going exactly where she wanted it to … even though she knew that she shouldn’t want it to go that direction at all.

  Tyree had paused at the table next to theirs, but came over now. He wore jeans and a white T-shirt that both contrasted his dark skin and highlighted the military and other tattoos that covered his arms. “You ready, sugar?” he asked, his Cajun accent thick. With his broad shoulders and well-muscled body, he looked like he could be the bar’s bouncer, and a damn good one at that, but he was one of the most gentle men she’d ever meet.

  “You sure you want me to do this? This is going to reflect on your place.”

  Tyree only laughed and shook his head. “Nice try, sugar. This bar has been through a lot. I don’t think you’re going to be the one who makes it crash and burn around our ears.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, and although she was perfectly serious, Tyree and Leo just chuckled.

  She looked around the customers who would be her audience, searching out familiar faces. Unfortunately, most of her friends weren’t there tonight. Griffin and his fiancé, Beverly, had been in earlier, but they seemed to have disappeared. And Jenna and Reese, both co-owners of The Fix, were nowhere to be seen. Hannah wasn’t there either, which meant that the only moral support she had lay with these two men.

  Skye grimaced. At least she’d only be making a fool of herself in front of strangers. She took the clipboard from Tyree, drew a deep breath, and climbed up onto the stage. The mic was already set up on a stand, and when she got there, she smiled nervously. Usually, one of the waiters did this on a daily basis, so she knew the drill. She just never expected that she’d be the one doing the announcing.

  She cleared her throat, then leaned toward the microphone. “Um ... hi. It’s ... time for you to hear ... the specials.” She looked for and found Leo’s eyes. He was looking back at her, nodding encouragement, but she knew that she sounded like a train wreck.

  Her nerves were getting the better of her, and she was having a hell of a time regulating her breathing. She wanted to hate him for doing this to her, but she also knew that she needed it. There was no way she was going to survive presenting at the symposium if she couldn’t even talk about a drink and an appetizer in a bar where nobody was listening that closely and half the folks were buzzed. Some were probably even so drunk that they sounded more slurry than she did.

  So, yeah. She could do this thing. And she wanted to, if only to make Leo proud.

  Once again, she cleared her throat, then concentrated on breathing and slowing her speech. “Right. So, today’s drink … special is the Jalapeño … Margarita. And if … you want a truly … hot time … try … pairing it with … our Pimento Cheese … Poppers. You’ll love … the kick.”

  She was starting to sweat, and she knew that the words had become so slurred that anyone interested was having to concentrate to understand. She met Leo’s eyes, feeling trapped, but he only smiled and nodded encouragement.

  Right. She was almost done. She could finish this. Even if she’d have to throw her blouse away after since no way were the sweat stains coming out. “Both are … fifty … percent off. So enjoy.”

  “Great pitch, cutie,” someone called from the back. “You already drunk on the things?”

  Tears pricked her eyes, and she hurried off the stage, only then realizing that Leo wasn’t at their table anymore. Instead, he had his hand wrapped around the heckler’s collar and had hauled him up out of his chair.

  “I’ve got this,” Tyree said, putting a calming hand on Leo’s shoulder. “That’s no way to talk to a lady,” he said to the drunken creep, his voice soft but firm. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  The man protested, but Skye didn’t catch all of his words. She was already hurrying to the restroom at the back of the bar. And about the time she heard the applause—presumably for Tyree kicking the guy out—she closed the door and locked herself inside.

  There was a sharp knock on the door a moment later. “Hey,” Leo said. “It’s me. Can you let me in?”

  She almost didn’t, but right then what she craved more than anything was to be
in his arms. She pushed away from the sink where she’d been bent over, willing the tears to stop, then unlocked the door. The moment he opened it, she fell into his embrace.

  “I’m sorry,” she said when she’d stopped crying. “I got … your shirt all wet.”

  “No. I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have put you up to that. I didn’t think there would be anyone in the audience who was that much of a prick.”

  “It’s not your … fault. I shouldn’t care so much. And you’re … right. He’s the one who’s the … asshole.”

  “Of course you should care. I care, too.”

  It was such an honest and unexpected response. Most people tried to tell her that she shouldn’t care. That she should learn to just blow it off and push through it. They didn’t understand that would never happen. She would always care. It would always hurt. The trick was learning how to handle the hurt.

  Leo got that. Maybe it was because he lived his life in public, but somehow he truly understood. And before she could think about what she was doing, she lifted herself up on her toes, hooked her arms around his neck, and kissed him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Oh, dear God, how he’d missed this.

  The power of her kiss exploded through him, firing his senses, making him crave what he knew he shouldn’t take.

  “Please.”

  Skye’s whisper filled his head, the need in her voice acting like a drug, stealing thought and reason.

  “Skye—”

  She drew back, then pressed a finger to his lips. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but they no longer looked wounded. Now, they were filled with a passion and need so palpable that it made his skin tingle.

  “Please,” she whispered. “Take me back to your room.”

  He swallowed, his mouth going dry. He was as hard as steel, and all he could think about was touching her, taking her. But they shouldn’t, not when there was no future for them.

  “We can’t,” he said. “You know we can’t.”

  She slid her hand down, cupping his cock and making him groan from the force of the pure, feral need that cut through him. “Can’t? I don’t think so.”

  “Shouldn’t.” He could barely croak out the word.

  “Why not?” She bit her lower lip, her expression a delightful mix of shyness and certainty. “We both want it.”

  “And we both know it will end. That it will have to end.”

  “Isn’t that all the more … reason to take what we can? If I … can’t have you … I at least want … this.”

  He stroked her hair, his eyes not leaving hers. “You’re amazing.”

  “We deserve … the memory.”

  His grin was ironic. “I supposed we do. A better one than last time.”

  There was no pain or judgment when she shook her head, but a single tear snaked down her cheek. “Last time … was amazing.”

  “I was your first.” He heard the harshness in his voice, the recrimination. “And I left.”

  “You were my only … and it was wonderful.”

  It took a moment, but once the meaning of her words hit him, he stiffened. “Only?”

  Her shoulders rose and fell in a casual shrug. “Who could compare to you?”

  “Skye. I—”

  Once again, she shushed him with her fingertip. “No … I wasn’t … pining. I was studying and working. And dating … is hard, what with … this,” she said, pointing to her mouth. “But … I know it … was different … for you. I … became a … royal watcher.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Quite the player.”

  Her tone was teasing, but he rushed to explain. She deserved the truth. Hell, she was the only one who did.

  “I never slept with any of them.”

  Her brow furrowed, and then she laughed.

  “I’m serious.” Eventually, he probably would have taken one of them to bed, but how could he when Skye was so fresh in his mind and still alive in his heart? Two years wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, and he’d been mourning the inevitable certainty that one day he would sit on the throne alone, because even if he did find a woman to be his queen, it wouldn’t be the woman he craved.

  She was staring at him as if he’d gone crazy. “But I read—”

  “I drank and I partied. I acted like an ass. My father survived, for which I was terribly grateful, but his heart attack was a wake-up call.”

  “That’s why you left that night. You never told me. Never called or anything.”

  “I was angry at the world, furious about the golden chains that shackled me, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I can’t ever make it right, but I am truly sorry.”

  She brushed a light kiss over his lips. “I forgive you. And,” she added with a mischievous grin, “if you take me back to your hotel you can at least try to make it better.”

  He burst out laughing. “God, I love you.”

  The reality of his words hit them both at the same time. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. He could see the way her T-shirt moved with the pounding of her heart.

  “It’s true,” he whispered. “I wish it wasn’t, because one day I will be king, and my choices for who can be my queen are limited. And even if it could be you…” He trailed off, blinking back the tears that had gathered in his eyes, “how could I ask you to live such a public life?”

  She swallowed, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.

  “And so I rebelled. I partied. I acted like an ass. But I never slept with any of them. They never got into my heart. There’s only ever been you, Skye.”

  Tears streaked her face now, and she shook her head. “There can’t just … be me. Leo, you’re … breaking my heart. I don’t … want that for … you.”

  “Being royal has its perks, I won’t deny that. But fate balances the scales. I accepted that a long time ago.”

  She moved closer, her arms going around his waist, her body pressed against his. “That’s why we … deserve tonight. These … weeks. To fit in a … lifetime before you … have to leave.”

  “Skye, we—”

  But she didn’t let him finish. Just silenced him with a kiss before pulling back and meeting his eyes. She held his gaze, hers unreadable. Then she slid down his body, her fingers making quick work of the button on his jeans.

  “Christ, Skye, what are you doing?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She was on her knees, her head tilted back, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You had me sucking a straw earlier … and you said being … royal sucks. Might as well add a little … more truth to that statement.”

  He would have protested, but when she took him in her mouth, he knew that he was both the luckiest and the unluckiest man in the entire world.

  Because how was he supposed to go back home without her?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Skye practically danced out of the ladies’ room on Leo’s arm. She felt giddy. Powerful. And Leo seemed pretty happy himself.

  “You’re looking quite smug,” Leo said, his voice teasing.

  “I feel … smug. I’ve never done that before.”

  Leo’s brows rose. “I believe you have.”

  She bit back a laugh, remembering their night together two years ago.

  “Fine. Never in a bathroom at a bar, I mean.”

  “Well, that’s two of us.”

  She glanced around as they walked hand in hand back to their table, noticing the girls sitting nearby, watching and giggling.

  “Do you think they know what we were doing?” Skye whispered the question, feeling partly embarrassed and at the same time weirdly proud and powerful.

  “Possibly,” Leo admitted. “But they might also be watching because I almost punched that guy. A bar fight tends to draw attention.”

  Her stomach twisted as she realized the implications. “Leo—you…” She trailed off. He’d put himself out there for her, and that had been a mistake. Those girls probably were taking his picture, and if they
were posting about the hot guy doing macho stuff in a bar, then the odds were good that someone would recognize him.

  She drew a breath, saying a silent prayer despite knowing it would do no good whatsoever.

  At the door, Jürgen fell in step beside them. Skye glanced at him and knew that her fears weren’t stupid. His brow was furrowed, and he was frowning at his phone. And considering his sole purpose was to keep Leo safe, she had a feeling she knew what he was frowning about.

  “We should go back to the hotel, Sire.”

  “We are,” Leo said, squeezing Skye’s hand. If he was thinking about the possible public relations nightmare or the blowing of his cover in Austin, he wasn’t showing it.

  They walked to the corner in silence, Jürgen settling in several paces behind them.

  “Maybe you should just walk me home,” she whispered, because he needed a way out. Surely he realized the risk. She didn’t want him to feel obligated to continue their evening when it could blow up his whole life. If they hadn’t already blown it up.

  God, what had she started?

  “Back to your condo?”

  She nodded. “It’s late.” It wasn’t even ten. She sounded like an idiot.

  “I could walk you home,” he said easily. “You could spend the rest of the evening watching TV with Bart.” He squeezed her hand, then tugged her to a stop as he leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “Or I could invite you to my room, strip you bare, and make love to you. Personally, I’m leaning toward the latter.”

  “Leo—those girls.”

  “Aren’t welcome in my room.”

  She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled up. “Glad to … hear that.”

  “Are you with me?”

  She nodded, her throat thick. “Always.”

  They’d reached the hotel, and he led her inside, then to the small elevator bank. They rode up with Jürgen, fingers twined, and as soon as the car stopped, she took a step forward, eager to be alone with him in the room.

  But then the doors slid open, and she was blinking as those same girls from the bar giggled and snapped photos. She had no idea how they’d discovered what floor he was on—they’d probably just guessed the penthouse—and they were breathless from what was undoubtedly a race up the stairs.