Royal Cocktail

by J. Kenner

  She froze, Leo’s hand tightening on hers as he stepped protectively in front of her.

  Skye had no idea how he managed to get out so quickly, but Jürgen was not only already in the hallway, but he’d wrested the phones away from both the girls.

  “Hey! You can’t do that!”

  “This floor is for guests only.” He tapped on both screens, scowled, tapped some more, then handed the phones back. “Go,” he said. “Go now.”

  One girl looked ready to protest, but the other took her arm and they raced toward the stairs.

  “I deleted all photos from the bar until now,” Jürgen said. “But they’d already posted several. I can’t do anything about what’s already out there. This isn’t good, Sire.”

  “I’ve been labeled as a bad boy prince at home for years. I’m just expanding my territory.”

  “It’s not good for Skye,” Jürgen said.

  Beside her, Leo sighed. “No. It’s not.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, looking defeated. As far as Skye was concerned, the look didn’t suit him at all.

  “You should go,” he said. “Jürgen can walk you to your condo.”

  “Leo, no.”

  He shook his head, his expression miserable. “I can’t drag you into the spotlight on this. That would be like forcing you to live your worst nightmare.”

  She shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. You’re my sweetest dream, Leo. That erases all the nightmares.”

  He took her hand and gently kissed her fingertips. “I am so glad that we found each other again, but we both know it can’t last. It ends now, because I can’t stand the thought that you’ll be sacrificed on the altar of social media. I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you know I’m right.”

  He turned to Jürgen. “Get her home safely.”

  And then, his face colored with misery, the man she loved turned his back on her and disappeared into his suite.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Come on,” Jürgen said, cocking his head toward the elevator.

  Skye crossed her arms across her chest. “I don’t think so.”

  “Skye. You heard His Highness. I’m to see you home.”

  “You can’t … make me leave.”

  His brows rose. The man was seriously good-looking, but also imposing as hell. Skye congratulated herself on not caving.

  “I’m staying.”

  “Don’t make me use force.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He took a step toward her, and she realized that, yeah, he’d totally dare. Whatever the prince wanted, Jürgen would do.

  She sucked in a breath and decided to change her approach. “You … love him, too. Do you really want him to … be miserable?”

  He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared her down, as if he was just waiting for her to finish so he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her down to the street.

  “You know he wants me there. And … we deserve it. He can’t just … unilaterally stop it.”

  “He’s my prince who will soon be my king. I think he can unilaterally do pretty much anything he wants.”

  “Including being an ass?”

  Jürgen didn’t smile, but his eyes flickered with amusement. Skye considered that a win.

  “This thing can’t … go anywhere. We’re not … stupid. But I’m helping him with the constitution. And he’s helping me … with my speech. So we’re going … to be together anyway.”

  Jürgen said nothing. Another victory, as far as she was concerned.

  “Tell me this—does he really love me? You’re … one of his closest friends. If you tell me he doesn’t, then I’ll go away. But if he loves me, then don’t we deserve to have whatever time we can grab?”

  For a moment, Jürgen said nothing, just looked at her with those hooded eyes, his expression unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. He took a step toward her, and Skye held her breath, but managed to hold her ground.

  “Do you love him?”

  Skye drew in a breath, then managed a watery smile. “Is that really a question you have to ask?”

  She watched as the decision played out over Jürgen’s face. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a key card. “If I get fired, I expect a job working security at your firm.”

  “You got it,” she said, her knees weak with relief.

  “And Skye…”

  She was already at the door. Now, she looked back over her shoulder.

  “You’re good for him.”

  “He’s good for me. Wish me luck?”

  He tilted his head, and she turned back toward the penthouse. She drew a breath, inserted the card, then quietly stepped inside. There was no sign of Leo in the living area. She paused, her head tilting as she picked up the muffled sound of running water.

  The shower.

  Right. Well, that was a forward approach, wasn’t it? Then again, he wouldn’t kick her out if she was naked. Would he?

  She stripped off her clothes, tossing them on the ground on the far side of the sofa, just to make it more difficult for him to get rid of her.

  Then she took a deep breath, stepped through the open door into the bedroom, and walked the short distance to the bathroom. The door was closed, but not locked. Why would it be? He was alone, after all.

  She gently pushed the door open and was immediately lost in the thick, hot steam. She stood for a moment to get her bearings, then saw the glass shower stall. His back was to her, his face in the spray. She squared her shoulders, walked to the stall, and slowly pulled open the door.

  She stepped in behind him, her hands settling on his hips. “Leo,” she whispered even as he stiffened, one quick jolt of fear eclipsed by relief. And, she hoped, by longing.

  She moved closer until her breasts were pressed against his back, and she slid her hands around to stroke his cock. His body tensed, and though she wanted to take him all the way, she wasn’t disappointed when he spun around, one hand cupping her head as his mouth closed violently over hers. He pushed her back, his lips hard on hers, his tongue warring with her own. She felt the cool glass against her back in contrast to the wet heat of the shower—and to Leo’s body, hot and hard and slick against hers.

  “How are you here?”

  His words were muffled by the press of his lips against her neck, then down lower until his teeth grazed her nipple. She made a squeaking noise, but couldn’t manage a response.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his hands belying his words as his palms stroked and teased, his fingers slipping between her thighs, the intimate touch making her body shake as she moaned.

  “Do you mind?” She could barely force the words out past her gasps and the wild jolts of electricity that were firing through her body.

  “Terribly,” he said, as his hands slid to her hips and he lowered himself to his knees as he kissed his way down her belly. The tip of his tongue teased her clit, and her knees turned to rubber. She would have fallen except that he was holding her up, his entire mouth on her now, sucking and licking, and it felt so beyond incredible that it was a wonder she didn’t pass out.

  She twined her fingers in his hair and bucked against him, her body desperate for release even while her mind wanted this wild and delicious sensation to never, ever end.

  “Please,” she murmured, her mind so lost in a sensual haze that she wasn’t even sure what she was asking for. He rose, and she whimpered, then melted again when he silenced her with a kiss.

  “With me,” he murmured, then led her out of the shower, through the steamy bathroom, and to the pristinely made bed.

  “We’re soaking … wet.”

  “I don’t care,” he said, then pulled him down with her. He straddled her, his body so warm it was like he burned from within, erasing any fears that she’d be cold. On the contrary, she felt on fire, every cell in her body like a small generator, making her burn for him.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, Leo, I don’t want to wait.”
/>   He fumbled beside the bed, then pulled out a condom.

  “I thought you said you … didn’t.” She meant it to be a tease, but maybe she was a tiny bit hurt that he’d told her he wasn’t sleeping around, and yet he kept condoms in his drawer.

  “I haven’t,” he said. He pushed himself up, then gently brushed her hair from her eyes. “But when I saw you again—I knew we shouldn’t. I thought you wouldn’t want me, anyway. And yet, I hoped.”

  She felt the tears prick her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I …hoped, too.”

  “Skye.”

  That was all he said, and their eyes locked and held. “Leo.” His name was a whisper, but it held so much meaning. And so much hope.

  His mouth closed over hers again, and she arched back as he claimed her with his kisses, his hand stroking her body, readying her until she was begging him, whimpering for him to please, please take her right then.

  “As you wish,” he whispered, then sank deep inside her as she arched up, meeting him thrust for thrust until they both exploded in a sizzle of stars and lightning and atoms and ecstasy. Until the world fell away, and it was just the two of them left, alone in each other’s arms.

  She clung to him, breathing hard and never wanting to let go.

  “You’re amazing,” he whispered.

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” she said. “That, and that you’ll probably have to call the front desk for a new duvet. This one got soaked.”

  He laughed, pulling her over until she was straddling him. “I’m sure they’ll accommodate. I’m a prince, after all. Or hadn’t you heard?”

  “I think you mentioned something along those lines. And, Your Highness, I have to say that was incredible.”

  He brushed his fingertip over her lips. “Thank you,” he said, the teasing gone from his voice. “For not listening to me. And for doing whatever you did that convinced Jürgen to let you in.”

  “Ah, yeah. Well, I … had to kill him. Sorry about that.”

  He stifled a laugh. “Well worth the sacrifice.”

  “Actually, I … owe him.”

  “We both do.” He moved closer and kissed her again, and she never wanted the moment to end.

  “It might get bad,” he said, shattering the illusion.

  “Or… it might not.”

  But, of course, it did.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “This is unacceptable,” Tarlton Porter said, pacing behind his desk. “What the hell were you thinking? You, prancing around like some air-headed female?”

  Skye forced herself not to cower as she looked at her father. “I’m not … air-headed, and I don’t … prance. I love him.”

  Her father waved the words away as if they were gnats at a picnic. “I thought you knew better, Skye. This kind of behavior? And one week before the symposium? Did you even stop to think how this would reflect on the firm?”

  “This is … my fault? I didn’t ask to be … photographed. Followed. You’re punishing me for … living my life.”

  For the last four days, she and Leo had been inseparable. They’d worked on the constitutional issues at the firm’s library or the sitting area in his suite. They’d practiced her speaking with an audience from both the firm and Jürgen’s security staff. They’d gone out for meals at both divey restaurants and high-end steak houses, with Skye always ordering to get in more practice. They’d had drinks at The Fix and mingled with her friends, all of whom accepted Leo as just one of the gang.

  They hadn’t gone out of their way to draw attention, but they hadn’t tried to hide, either. True, they’d toned down the PDA, but there’d been hand-holding and a few kisses when they weren’t behind closed door. They hadn’t seen anyone taking snaps, but that didn’t mean folks weren’t watching. And considering the number of posts that had hit Twitter and other platforms, most royal watchers were very skilled at being sneaky. All the more impressive since Jürgen had stepped up security once the spotlight had landed on them.

  “The man is a prince,” her father said, both stating the obvious and drawing Skye from her thoughts. “He’s used to a life of privilege. Of getting who he wants and what he wants.”

  “Is he? Well, so are you.” She snapped the words out, fury making her react before thinking. But apparently her words hit the mark, because her father took a step backward.

  “You’re lashing out, Skye.”

  “You want … me to be someone … I’m not. And so you … insist I speak … at the symposium.”

  His shoulders sagged, and he settled into the chair behind his desk. She stood a bit longer, then took a seat, too. “I love him, Daddy. And he … loves me.”

  Her father sighed. “Let’s say that’s true.”

  “It is.”

  He didn’t even pause for her comment. “It doesn’t matter because nothing can come of it. The man is going to be a king. And soon if the reports about his father’s health are accurate.” He leaned forward. “Sweetheart, no matter how you feel about this man, you should end it.”

  She said nothing. He was right, of course. But she wasn’t going to admit that aloud.

  “What are you prepared to do if he wants you to go back with him? You’re not royal. You’re not a citizen. You can’t marry him.”

  “You researched that?”

  “You’re my daughter. Of course, I did.”

  She blinked, fighting tears. “We know, Daddy.”

  “Tell me you aren’t contemplating being his mistress.”

  She swallowed. The temptation was there, yes, if for no other reason than to stay with Leo. But she shook her head. “I couldn’t be that girl.” She managed a rueful smile, then shrugged. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’d be in his circle no matter what, and I’d wither in the spotlight.”

  Her father stood then circled his desk. He stopped in front of her and held out his hand. She took it and rose, confused as to his purpose. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I tossed you into the symposium line-up thinking only of myself.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick with tears. “I don’t know what you want from me, Daddy.”

  His shoulders sagged. “Oh, baby. All I want is your forgiveness.”

  A single tear escaped. “Then we’ve been at … cross purposes. Because all I’ve wanted is for you to … forgive yourself.”

  “One more week,” Leo said as she snuggled close. They were in her bed, having gotten distracted when Skye was changing for the evening’s celebration honoring Professor Malkin and his impressive body of work. “I have to leave right after the symposium. The royal physician has asked that Gisele and I both meet with him in person.”

  “I know. I don’t want … you to go.”

  He looked at her, and she shook her head, certain she knew what he was going to say. She pressed her finger to his lips, then bent forward and kissed him. “We’re going to enjoy the week … we have left.”

  “Yes,” he said. “We are.”

  Her phone chimed, and she rolled over to find a text from Hannah about a possible client referral. As Skye started to type an answer, Leo slid out of bed, motioning that he was going to the kitchen.

  She sent the reply and started to follow, only to stop when she heard the voices just beyond the door.

  “Sleeping with my fiancée?” The humor in Bart’s voice was clear.

  “Hey, if you couldn’t keep her satisfied…”

  Skye clapped her hand over her mouth so as not to laugh aloud at Leo’s response.

  “A fair point,” Bart said. “But, listen, I’ve got to say this, because I love her, too, you know? Not the way you do, but…”

  “I get it.”

  “Yeah, well, for the record, you hurt her, and we’re going to have issues.”

  “That’s why I like you, man.”

  From behind the door, Skye grinned.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Bart said.

  “But I have to be honest,” Leo continued. “In the end, Skye and I both know tha
t hurt is inevitable.”

  “Yeah,” Bart said. “The royal thing is cool, but I gotta say, I don’t envy you.”

  “Understood. There are times I don’t envy me, either.”

  She sighed, then headed into the living room to join them. And, hopefully, to lighten the mood. “You two talking about me?”

  “No,” said Bart.

  “Of course,” said Leo.

  Bart shot him a glance. “Tattletale.”

  “Don’t worry,” Skye said, holding up her phone. “It’s what all the … cool kids are doing. Here’s the latest. It flashed on my notifications as I was answering Hannah’s text.”

  She pulled it up again, then passed her phone to Bart with the headline filling the screen.

  “It’s L-L-Love for the P-p-pr-ince,” he read. “Good grief, that’s horrible. And you don’t stutter.”

  “Right?” She held out her hands as if in exasperation. “If they’re going to … make fun of me … at least get … it right.”

  She turned to Leo, expecting him to join in the banter. Instead, he just looked sad.

  “It’s … okay.”

  “No. It’s not. I’m so sorry.”

  “For what? You … didn’t encourage them.”

  “She’s right,” Bart said. “You’re not the asshole here.”

  Leo’s mouth twitched. “Fair enough.” He reached out and ran a lock of Skye’s hair through his fingers. “We should get dressed. The limo will be here within the hour.”

  The professor had invited them over for cocktails, and Leo had offered to rent a limo to take all three of them from the professor’s home to the auditorium where he’d be receiving his award, something to which the professor had eagerly agreed.

  Skye was looking forward to it, too. A limo might not be a treat for Leo, but she’d only been in one once before, after her father had rewarded her for graduating first in her law school class.

  That night, she’d been crammed in with a dozen other students. Not friends so much as hangers-on. She’d kept to herself too much in law school to have made many close friends.