Prince Not So Charming: A Royal Love Story

by Tawny Taylor

  Every few seconds she lifted her gaze. She’d never met a more handsome man. For some reason she just couldn’t stop looking at him. It was as if she had to keep checking, to see if he still looked so perfect.

  Of course, he did. Because the aristocratic nose, strong jaw, sharply angled cheekbones and supremely kissable mouth weren’t going anywhere.

  His gaze met hers again. Gold met brown. Her breath caught in her throat.

  He stood, and she tracked his every movement, the flex of his arm, the tensing of his chest, the smooth stride as he returned to her side. He stopped next to her, his gaze still drilling into hers.

  Her heart started doing gymnastics in her chest.

  He was about to do something. But what?

  Would he kiss her again?

  Would he coax her out of her chair and plunk her on the desk?

  Would he bury his hips between her thighs and torment her until she begged him to take her?

  God help her, she would gladly accept any of those things. Even if it made her something she’d sworn she would never be again—a man’s plaything.

  His plaything.

  Prince Raphael of Aragonia.

  11

  Jenna

  Rafe cupped Jenna’s cheek. His smoldering, liquid gold gaze locked on hers.

  The air between them electrified, little invisible arcs buzzing back and forth, over her skin, through her body. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

  She shook her head. Stop? No way. She craved his kisses and touches. She had never felt this kind of chemistry with a man before. It was…addicting.

  “Tell me now. Say it. Say you don’t want me,” he demanded.

  “I can’t,” she admitted. She stared into his eyes, seeing lust. Hunger. Passion. “Kiss me. Please.”

  His elbows bent slightly, and his upper body dipped closer. “Dammit.” His mouth claimed hers. It wasn’t a gentle exploration. No. It was a hard, thorough possession.

  When her lips parted so she could inhale deeper, his tongue swept inside. He tasted delicious. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Could not. She wouldn’t let him. She reached up, her fingers grasping fists full of satin, his hair, holding him in place, even as his hands cupped her face to do the same.

  This kiss was everything she craved in a kiss. It wasn’t meek or shy. It was as domineering and commanding as the man himself. And her body reacted instantly. Waves of heat pulsed out from her center, blazing through her veins. Her heart thumped in her ear.

  Oh yes, this was what she’d been waiting for. At last he’d abandoned the idea that she was off-limits.

  He slid one arm around her back and leaned deeper into her, coaxing her down until she was literally laying on his desk with his towering bulk looming over her. She left her legs dangling, rather than wrapping them around his waist like a total hussy. She didn’t want to ruin the moment by doing something too rash. He would call the shots, and she would follow. As it should be. As she liked it—at least when it came to the bedroom.

  Releasing her face, he caught her wrists in his hands and lifted them, pinning them above her head. “Dammit, Jenna…” he grumbled as he trailed little nips and kisses along her jaw.

  She shivered. It tickled. And burned. In a good way. In the most wonderful way. Goose bumps prickled her chest and shoulders. Her blood seared her insides. A moan bubbled up her throat.

  A deep pounding vibration spread through her body.

  Suddenly Rafe jerked backward, muttering a curse. He pulled on her hands, head turned to the door.

  Another round of thumping echoed through the room.

  “What?” he snapped, glaring at the door.

  The door.

  The door!

  The pounding hadn’t been her heartbeat.

  She sat upright too fast. Her head spun. Stars twinkled. She threw herself into the empty chair in front of her.

  Rafe swung his legs over the desk, catapulting himself in his chair in one smooth move.

  Impressive.

  The door swung open, and Bikini Girl sauntered in, gave Jenna a condescending glare then turned on a pout. “Oh, you’re not alone.”

  “Adri. I need to speak with you,” Rafe said, shooting a glance at Jenna.

  Ohmygod, he wanted her to leave! So he could… do who-knew-what with Adri. Talk? Righttttt! Surrrrre!

  Jenna didn’t wait for Rafe to say another word. She jumped out of her chair and made a beeline for the door, her face on fire.

  What an idiot she’d been! An absolute moron!

  To think those kisses had meant anything to him. To think she meant anything to him.

  She was nothing. Less than a plaything. She was a novelty, to be indulged in when it served him, but not to be shared with his brothers.

  What a joke! Earlier he’d implied he was trying to protect her from Vin. As if his brother’s intentions were less noble, less acceptable, than his.

  He was a liar.

  And a jerk!

  And she was a stupid fool for thinking otherwise, for even one minute.

  She stomped upstairs. Her eyes were burning but she would not let them leak. Not one freaking tear. Her throat was dry and clogged.

  A drink. That was what she needed.

  Not water, either.

  She needed something stronger. Something that would make her forget about stupid Rafe and his bimbo.

  She found that something, in the form of a bottle of wine, chilling in the wine cooler. She took the bottle and a glass and returned to her seat outside.

  It had been ages since she’d been drunk. And never had she gotten drunk while on the job. But this situation was unique. And totally worthy of doing something as stupid as guzzling a whole bottle of wine while on someone else’s time clock. For one thing, because she couldn’t leave—which was totally unfair. If she was going to be held captive in this ridiculous situation, then she was going to have to find a way to deal. Even if it was an unhealthy, irresponsible way of coping.

  She sloshed some into the glass and slurped it down.

  Smooth.

  Delicious.

  Yessirie, this was exactly what she needed to forget about that horrible jerk.

  How could he do this to her? Play hot and cold, tell her he can’t have her one minute and then throw her on his desk and kiss her to oblivion the next? And then, on top of it all, dump her the instant some taller, skinnier bimbo in a bikini saunters in the room and pouts her over-inflated lips?

  She refilled her glass and downed some more.

  Wow, was that wine yummy. A lot tastier than the stuff she bought at Meijer.

  Her stomach was already getting a little warm. And her angry thoughts were dimming. Slightly. Prince Raphael was still a first-class jerk. But she didn’t care so much anymore.

  She poured herself a third glass.

  Those fluffy clouds sure were pretty. Though that one, over there, kind of looked like Adri. She despised Adri. She drained her glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking for you!”

  The owner of the voice was a female. Surely it wasn’t that bitch who’d stolen Rafe away. Adri, what kind of name was that, anyway?

  Jenna didn’t have to turn. The speaker circled around her lounge chair.

  “Hiya Nichole!” Jenna waved the bottle. “Thirsty?”

  “You’re starting early,” Nichole said as she slid her skinny butt into the lounge chair next to hers.

  “It’s been a rough morning.” Abandoning the glass, Jenna took a slug from the bottle.

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, you know, it’s just Rafe. He’s such an asshole.”

  “He can be.”

  “Do you know, he kissed me this morning? On his desk. We made out like crazy, and then he kicked me out when little miss Bikini Babe made an appearance at his door? I hate him!”

  “Really? You hate him?” Nichole extended an arm, a silent plea for the wine.

  “Yes.” Jenna sh
ook her head as she handed it over to her friend. “No. I don’t hate him. But I want to. I should. Because he’s a jerk. What does he see in Bikini Girl anyway?” She reached for the bottle but Nichole didn’t have it anymore. “Hey! Where’d my wine go?”

  “What wine?”

  “The bottle I just handed you.” She squinted hard at Nichole. “I did just hand you that bottle, didn’t I?”

  Nichole blinked. “No. You didn’t give me a bottle. ”

  Jenna looked around her chair. No bottle there. Or back there, behind her chair. Did it roll under the chair? No. Not there either. “Where’d I put it?” She grabbed her empty glass and tried to slurp down the last drops left at the bottom.

  “I think you could use some water,” Nichole informed her.

  “No, actually I could use some more wine.”

  “Hmm. We’ll see about that.” Nichole stood.

  What a sweet heart. She was getting some more wine! She was the best!

  “Thanks!” Jenna gave her new bestie a smiley wave then went back to trying to get those last few drops out of the glass. She tapped the bottom, but that didn’t work.

  Several minutes later, she glanced over her shoulder, toward the house. What was taking Nichole so freaking long to find another bottle of wine? She had to know there were at least a dozen more chilling in the wine cooler in the kitchen.

  Slightly frustrated, Jenna leaned back and closed her eyes.

  The sun felt so good on her face. Really, really good.

  Like, so amazing she could fall… asleep…

  12

  Jenna

  Someone cleared his throat, and Jenna cracked open an eye.

  That someone was male, not female.

  That someone wasn’t Nichole.

  Just her luck, it was a certain individual she didn’t want to talk to right now.

  “Where’s Nichole?” she snapped.

  “Inside. Which is where you should be too. That burn is ripe enough.” The jerk, Rafe, had the audacity to lay his hand on her arm.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  Jerky Princey-Poo gave her the two-hands-up surrender sign. “As you wish. I was just trying to help.”

  “Help, my ass! I don’t need help. I’m perfectly fine. And I don’t need to go inside.”

  “You’re going to feel that burn later,” he warned.

  “I’ll be fine, thank you. And even if I’m not, that’s none of your business. I’m mad at you. Very, very mad.” She shook her finger at him and sent him some don’t-mess-with-me mean eyes.

  “Which is understandable,” he responded. “I’ve been a first class jerk.”

  “Yes you have,” Jenna agreed, surprised by his confession. “A first class, second class, and third class jerk. The lowest-class jerk of all.”

  “I have. And I apologize.”

  Wow, that was easy.

  She’d always respected men who were quick to apologize. Especially the kind who didn’t make the same mistake twice. Could she trust Rafe to be that kind? Maybe. Maybe not. But she wasn’t in the mood to hold grudges, thanks to that yummy wine.

  “Apology accepted. As long as you mean it.” She shook his finger at him again.

  “Absolutely. I’m sorry for treating you exactly as my brother would have.”

  “Yes, that was mean! Especially when, seconds after we were kissing, you kicked me out to do the same thing with that bikini bimbo.”

  “Bikini bimbo, eh? Actually, I didn’t…” He cleared his throat again. “That matter has been taken care of. Now that we’ve cleared the air, will you please come inside?” He offered a hand.

  Please? He’d said please?

  That was more like it!

  This time she accepted it, placing her hand in his and pulling. She wobbled and plopped back down on her butt. “Oh. I think I’m drunk.”

  “You think?” he asked, his voice slightly bouncy. His eyes sparkled.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Absolutely not.” A wave of hair flopped over his face as he shook his head. It was cute--the way he talked. The way he looked, too. Cute like a puppy dog.

  She loved puppies!

  They were soft. And they smelled good.

  Like the prince here.

  A puppy. Yes, that was what he was. An adorable puppy.

  She pinched his manly cheeks. “Has anyone told you how cute you are?”

  “Cute?”

  “Yes. You are so freaking cute!” After giving his cheeks another pinch, she ruffled his hair. “Your hair is cute. I like it. A lot. Especially when it’s messy. Like this.”

  “Thank you.” He reached for her glass, which was empty.

  Was he going to refill it? That would be good!

  “Oh, are you giving me more wine? I’d like that. A lot. That wine was delish. Best wine I’ve ever tasted. In my whole life. Nichole promised to bring me some more. But she disappeared. Where did she go?”

  “Actually, I was thinking you’ve had enough wine for now.”

  “What? No! I haven’t had enough.”

  “But you said you were drunk.”

  “When? I didn’t say that. I’m not drunk. I’m just…” She stood and the floor swooped. “Ohmygosh! Did you feel that?”

  “Feel what?”

  She grabbed his thick arm to try to steady herself. “I think this island is sinking.”

  “No, it isn’t sinking.”

  “Well if it isn’t sinking, then it’s doing something. ‘Cause the ground is moving. Wait.” She looked left. Right. “Are we on a boat?”

  “No we’re not. We’re outside my home. On the patio.”

  She turned around. Oh yes. There was his house. With all the fancy furniture, each piece probably costing more than she earned in a whole year.

  But if they weren’t on a boat, and the island wasn’t sinking, why did it feel like the ground was swaying? “The patio! It must be collapsing.” She tried to take a step and stumbled. She landed in a set of burly arms, her body plastered against a body so hard it felt as if it had been sculpted out of marble. “See? I can’t walk. The ground is shifting.”

  The owner of the rock-hard body laughed. “No, princess. You’re drunk.”

  Princess? He called me princess?

  “I’m not drunk. I never get drunk. Especially when I’m working. Because that would be totally unprofessional.”

  “Of course.”

  “I only had one or two glasses of that wine.” She flipped her hand in the general direction of her empty glass. Or where it had been. He took it away. “One or two glasses wouldn’t make me drunk.”

  “No, probably not.” He tightened his hold on her, which she appreciated.

  He was so sweet. And protective. He didn’t want her to fall.

  She looped her arms around his neck to hold on.

  Moving slowly, he helped her into the house and down the hall. A couple of times the wall got in his way and they bumped abruptly. She couldn’t help laughing when that happened because it was funny.

  Everything was funny.

  Life was funny!

  A door swung open.

  Oh, look!

  They were in a bedroom. It was a big bedroom. A fancy bedroom. It wasn’t her bedroom.

  Were they going to have sex?

  Her body decided it liked that idea.

  When her princely escort hesitated just inside the door, she pulled hard on his neck. “Kiss me,” she demanded.

  His eyes searched hers. “I’d like to. Very much.”

  She tried to rise up on tiptoes so she could reach his mouth, but she couldn’t stay on them. “So what are you waiting for?”

  “You know if I kiss you I’m not going to stop there.”

  “Yes, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Of course you aren’t. You’re intelligent. And beautiful.”

  Her face warmed. He gave me a compliment. A very nice compliment. “Thank you.”

  “You’r
e welcome.”

  Something hit her ass. She glanced back. Oh, it was the bed. She loosened her grip on Rafe’s neck and plopped down. He lurched forward anyway and nearly flopped on top of her. Propelled by the momentum of their combined weight falling forward, he toppled over, catching himself on outstretched arms before all two hundred-or-whatever pounds of princely manliness landed on top of her. But the bottom half or so was definitely on her. And at least one part of his anatomy was happy about it.

  She smiled. “Hello, handsome.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” She asked, wriggling so the hard lump that liked her would get harder.

  “This. With you.”

  “Why not? I want to.” Her eyes flicked down, to the growing lump. “You want to.”

  “Because it wouldn’t be right.”

  His logic was confusing. “Why? We’re both adults.”

  He rolled off her. “It just wouldn’t be.”

  “That isn’t an answer,” She informed him. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that stupid non-explanation. Heck no! He was going to have to lay it out for her. In plain English. “What’s your deal? Ever since I got here you’ve been hot and cold with me. It’s enough to drive a girl crazy, for your information.”

  “I imagine it is,” he acknowledged.

  “So?” she urged him by raising her brows in question.

  “So I should leave.” He started to sit up but she grabbed his arm, stopping him.

  “You aren’t leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

  He glanced at her hand, clenched around a handful of crisp white cotton. “I’m thinking of you, you realize?”

  “I don’t care. Out with it.”

  One side of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “You’re a feisty little thing when you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Says the girl who can’t walk because the ground is moving.”

  “It is moving! You’re in denial. Anyway, I see what you’re trying to do here and it won’t work.” She poked the tip of his nose. “Start talking. Why do you treat women so badly?”

  “I don’t treat women badly. At least not all women.”