The Princess Trap

by Talia Hibbert

  “No,” she said immediately.

  Fuck.

  But then she continued. “I’d have to get changed first. I don’t dress like this all the time, you know.” She smiled. “Maybe you could come back to my flat. While I get ready.”

  Ruben shifted, trying to lessen the sudden pressure of his cock against his zip. It didn’t help; not with the way she was looking at him, mischief and challenge and lust in her eyes. So he just said, “Yes. I will most definitely come with you.”

  “Good,” she said softly. And then she turned on those high heels and headed up the street.

  Chapter 5

  For Cherry, Ruben put up with Tabary for a whole day. He smiled and nodded and feigned interest, and a couple of times he caught Hans giving him approving looks.

  Of course, his friend’s approval was revoked soon enough.

  “Why are we hanging around in a school carpark?”

  “Does it matter?” Ruben shifted lower in his seat, even though the Hummer’s windows were tinted. Not as dark as he’d like, but there were national regulations to be followed.

  Of course, he could always travel with a royal congregation and be exempt from regulations. But that would amount to pissing all over his last bastion of privacy.

  Children had begun pouring out of the Academy half an hour ago, but Ruben had waited. Next came a trickling of staff, and still he held off—because she’d asked him to. He’d like to go up to the admin floor of that monstrous tower and carry her down the damn stairs, but she’d insisted that he wait out here.

  Which was fair enough, he thought grudgingly. But the animalistic side of him, the instinct that had caused him so much trouble throughout his life, wholeheartedly disagreed.

  Fetch her. Now. It doesn’t matter who sees.

  He ignored the voice inside his head and sank deeper into his seat.

  “Your Highness,” Hans said.

  Ruben sighed. Coming from anyone else, that title suggested respect. From Hans, who’d been calling him Ruben forever, it signified an impending lecture.

  “Don’t start,” Ruben said bluntly, slipping into their mother tongue. His eyes scanned the car park. He felt slightly unhinged. Was he really so eager to see this woman again?

  Yes. Embarrassingly eager. Hurry up.

  “Your Highness,” Hans repeated, firmly ignoring Ruben’s words. As usual. “You know as well as I do that the king—”

  “Really, Hans? You think I want to hear about my brother right now?”

  “Fine. I was going to remind that the king will not bear another scandal, but that doesn’t matter. You will not bear another scandal.”

  Ruben stiffened. “Who said anything about scandal?”

  “Don’t treat me like a fool. I know you’re waiting for that woman.”

  A spark of anger flared in Ruben’s gut at his friend’s derisive tone. But he controlled his temper, because he knew where Hans’s concern came from.

  His friend was worried about him.

  And so he kept his tone carefully even, almost teasing, when he said, “Why shouldn’t I wait for her? She’s quite brilliant. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes,” Hans spat. “I agree. Blindingly brilliant. A sentient fucking trap—”

  “Shut your mouth.”

  “You know she’s just like your sister.”

  “If she were just like my sister, I wouldn’t be waiting for her. So shut. Your fucking. Mouth.”

  Hans glared. “No. You didn’t listen to me with Kathryn—”

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” Ruben snapped. “First Sophronia, now Kathryn—who will you compare her to next? My mother?”

  “Of course not.” Hans frowned. “You misunderstand me. The problem is not so much the woman herself as it is your eagerness to… to make yourself vulnerable.”

  “It’s been eight months,” Ruben reminded him.

  “Yes, it’s been eight months. Barely any time at all. I remember exactly how bad it was, even if you don’t, and I am worried about the possibility of something similar happening.”

  Ruben snorted. “Something similar? I can’t be exposed twice, Hans. That’s the beauty of it. All of Helgmøre knows everything there is to know about me.” His voice was as steady as always, but Ruben’s heart thundered against his chest like a horse’s hooves. For the first time in the last eight months, he’d been attracted to someone without thinking immediately of Kathryn. Of the mess she’d brought to his door.

  And Hans had to fucking ruin it. The man had his safety in mind, of course. But Ruben’s desire to know Cherry—know her in every way—had been so pure. Free of suspicion and distrust and anxiety and bad memories. Now it was coloured again by past experiences. Now, when he thought of the power her beauty held, it felt less like something to admire and more like something to fear.

  Fucking Hans. Fucking Kathryn. Fucking life.

  “Ruben.” Hans’s voice was soft. “I don’t mean to suggest that you shouldn’t… return to normal. Pursue relationships. But you act without thinking.”

  Wrong. Ruben thought. He simply thought quickly, simply, and decisively. He followed his instincts.

  And look where that got you the last time.

  He ground his teeth, meeting his friend’s pale gaze for the first time. “I understand. But I cannot allow one bad experience to change who I am.” That would go against everything he’d ever fought for. Everything he’d ever fought to become.

  Hans nodded. “Fair enough, old friend. Just… be careful. I promised the king that there would be no more scandals.”

  Ruben’s jaw tightened. “She doesn’t even know who I am. This is England, for Christ’s sake. They have their own royals.”

  “She seems a capable woman. I’m sure she’d figure it out on her own. And then—”

  Ruben held up a hand in the universal sign for stop. Hans, of course, ignored that crystal-clear signal and continued his speech. But Ruben didn’t hear another word.

  She was here. She left the school gates with that familiar wiggling strut, her statuesque figure instantly recognisable. Ruben got out of the car and strode over to meet her.

  “Your Hi—Ruben!” Hans called. He sounded irritated, but then, he usually did. Ruben didn’t give a shit.

  As soon as she saw him, Cherry smiled. Not the charming, dimpled grin she unleashed like a weapon, but something softer, almost involuntary. Her round cheeks plumped and her red lips curved, and Ruben allowed himself to imagine that she was as pleased to see him as he was her.

  “You’re here,” she said. As if anything could’ve kept him away.

  “Of course I’m here. Come on.” He took her hand, trying to hide the way even that small touch affected him. Trying to act like it was normal, casual, when really he felt like cheering when she didn’t pull away. “How was your day?”

  She slid her eyes over to his. “Are you trying to be all thoughtful and charming and whatever?”

  “I don’t have to try. It just comes naturally.”

  “Really,” she snorted. But he saw the laughter dancing in her eyes, even if she wouldn’t let it pass her lips.

  “Yes, really. I hope you’re taking notes.”

  They came to a stop in front of his car. The door was now shut—Hans’s doing, clearly. Hopefully he’d let himself out while he was at it. Cherry might have figured out the bodyguard thing, but he didn’t know how she’d react to sharing the back seat with one.

  She stared at the car. Then she frowned, pursed her lips, cocked her head and her hips to one side. “Is that a Hummer?” She finally asked—with the same tone she might use to say, “Is that a cockroach?”

  Ruben raised his brows. “You don’t like it?” Most women liked the Hummer. Why the fuck wouldn’t she like the Hummer?

  “It’s very.... large,” she said finally. “Are you compensating for something?”

  He smiled. “I absolutely am not.”

  Cherry’s eyes slid down his body, bold enough to make his balls tighten.
“You would say that, though, wouldn’t you?” She murmured.

  “It’s true. Get in the car, and I’ll happily provide hard evidence.”

  Her dark eyes danced. But her voice was serious when she said, “What about my car?”

  “I can have someone handle that for you.”

  Her brows shot up, and too late, he realised his mistake: she didn’t know who he really was. And she certainly had no reason to trust any of his staff with her car.

  But all she said was, “No, I don’t think so.” And then her face lit up. “Oh! I know what we’ll do!”

  “What?” I’ll do anything as long as it gets me where I need to be. Alone. With you.

  “We’ll take my car,” she said. “Someone can handle yours. Right?” There was challenge in her wry smile, in the soft kiss of those dimples.

  And that was so fucking sexy to Ruben, he didn’t even think before saying, “Whatever you want.”

  It was only when she led him to her old, rickety Corsa that he realised: Hans was definitely going to kill him for this.

  Chapter 6

  The journey was fast and silent, a ten-minute drive thick with tension. The air between them swelled like ripe fruit: ready to burst, lush and gleaming—but beneath the sweet anticipation, the threat of something rotten. Something too far gone.

  The rotten thing was Cherry’s growing anxiety. As they pulled into the square of tarmac that served as her little flat’s carpark, her arousal deflated like a balloon.

  She parked up and dropped her keys into her lap, staring straight ahead. Right at the bare brick wall of her little building. She probably looked like a zombie. Didn’t matter. She was thinking.

  Ruben sat beside her in silence. Maybe he was waiting patiently, maybe he was freaked the fuck out, or maybe he’d been abducted by aliens while she was trapped in an internal battle. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.

  Was she really doing this?

  The first voice in her head was, unsurprisingly, Rose’s. Not an imagined response, but a memory of the words she’d said when Cherry casually mentioned that she’d be seeing Ruben again—that very night. Don’t do anything silly, darling.

  Bringing an almost-stranger to her flat meant that she was already doing something silly. That was a bad sign, and Cherry was self-aware enough to know it. Men who were delicious enough to make you lose your head should be imbibed sensibly. Like rosé or Lemsip. She was not imbibing sensibly.

  The next voice in her head, her mother’s, agreed. It screeched, Are you trying to kill me, child? Or are you trying to kill yourself? And then, because Dad was never far from Mum, she heard his voice too: Be sensible, Cherry Pie.

  But the last voice was her little sister’s. She knew exactly what Maggie would say right now.

  Get yours, sis.

  Her lips quirked. Maggie would already have him inside.

  Of course, she didn’t have to invite him in at all. He’d asked to take her out. She was the one who’d brought him here—all because something about the tone of his voice and the look in his eye and the way that he touched her made Cherry think he might…

  She pressed her lips together. Then she turned to face him.

  He hadn’t been abducted by aliens; he was right there, where she’d left him, waiting patiently. The way he dominated the little space put her in mind of a caged beast, but his eyes, for once, were soft.

  “You okay?” He asked.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to wait here?”

  “No.”

  “Can I kiss you?”

  Four words. His voice was as soft as his eyes. He was all folded up into the tiny car’s front seat, his long legs bent, his powerful thighs straining at his suit trousers, and… oh.

  Something else strained at his suit trousers, too, hard and thick. She let her eyes rest on his erection for a second before looking back up at him. He met her gaze easily, making no move to hide his arousal, and Cherry’s nerves disappeared. Anticipation was a red-hot weight in her chest, and desire thrummed through her pulse.

  He raised a hand and grasped the back of her neck, pushing her hair aside. The warm weight of his palm rested against her skin, and then he leant over the centre console towards her. His forehead bumped gently against hers.

  “You have to tell me,” he whispered. “Yes or no. Can I kiss you?”

  And she sounded embarrassingly breathless when she said, “Yes.”

  He barely let her finish the word. In a heartbeat, his lips were on hers, soft and gentle. So, so gentle. But that hand on her neck was was big and rough and demanding. His fingers sank into her hair, tightening slightly around the roots, and he pulled her head back, just a little. Just enough to make it clear that he was in charge. And still, his lips brushed against hers like a ghost’s. She shivered at the contrast. She wanted more. Much more.

  As if he’d read her mind, he gave it to her. His tongue slid out to trace its way across her lower lip, and then he groaned softly into her mouth, as if he liked the taste—oh, yes, he liked the taste, because now he was sucking her bottom lip into his mouth, each pull tugging at her tightening nipples, at her suddenly-sensitive clit. Cherry squeezed her thighs together, shifting in her seat, chasing the pressure she needed to relieve that delicious ache between her legs.

  He broke the kiss and pulled her head right back, exposing her throat. She wanted to whimper at the loss of his mouth, but his expression made her swallow the protest.

  He looked… hungry.

  “Tell me what you want,” he rasped. His breathing was loud in the quiet space, laboured. “You have to tell me.”

  “I… This,” she whispered. “I like this.” Understatement.

  The hand in her hair tightened. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her throat—then turned it, at the last minute, into a bite. Just firm enough to make her moan beneath, to make her breath catch in her chest.

  He pulled back. “Like that?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “That. Anything you want.”

  One side of his mouth kicked up into a smirk. “Careful, love. You have no idea what I want to do to you.”

  She met his eye. “I think I do, actually. I’m quite looking forward to it.”

  He muttered something under his breath. It sounded a lot like Fuck. Then he said, “Get out of the car.”

  She’d thought she was wet already. But at the command in his voice, desire pooled hot and sticky between her thighs.

  Oh, dear.

  Ruben had lost his head.

  The minute he noticed his security detail wasn’t following them out of the car park—and decided to do nothing about that fact—he knew he was losing it. They probably hadn’t noticed him leaving, since he’d gone firmly against protocol and disappeared in someone else’s car, but he should’ve stopped then. Only he hadn’t, because touching Cherry felt more urgent than fucking protocol.

  It felt more urgent than anything he’d ever done.

  She led him across the car park through a little alleyway, their hands intertwined. “Shortcut,” she said, tugging him along. Her heels clicked sharply against the concrete. She was rushing. She was precisely as desperate as he was, and the knowledge made him harder than ever.

  The winter sun was low over the horizon, the sky was a clouded bruise, and the streetlights snapped on around them. In the walkway between two apartment blocks, light faded and shadows grew tall. Cherry’s hips swayed in front of him, her hand tight around his, and the memories of her gasping little cries teased at his mind.

  Ruben stopped walking.

  She turned to face him, a furrow appearing between her brows. “What?”

  Without a word, he pulled her closer. When she came towards him with a smile curving her lips, he wanted to roar in triumph. Even the slightest acquiescence from this woman felt like a prize. He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her into him, against him, her softness a balm to the ragged edge of his lust. But it wasn’t enough.


  Ruben backed her into the wall beside them, covering her body with his own. He captured both her wrists in one hand, bringing them up over her head, his grip firm. His eyes on hers. Searching for something indefinable.

  He found it.

  She arched into him and said, “Hurry up.” So he kissed her, because he fucking had to.

  He felt like he was on the edge of control, like something savage, but when their lips met his desperation calmed. He licked his way into her mouth, revelling in her taste. He must be covered in her damned lipstick by now. He liked that idea. Let her mark him.

  He traced a thumb along the line of her jaw, her skin velvety.

  “Makeup,” she muttered against his lips, pulling away—but he tightened his grip.

  “If you don’t want to mess up your makeup,” he said softly, “you’ve brought the wrong guy home.”

  “I don’t want you to get it on your clothes.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “They’ll be gone soon, anyway.”

  “God, you’re so fucking…” Apparently, she had no idea what he was, because with an adorable little growl she reached up and kissed him. Her tongue met his and she sighed, arching into him, pressing her hips against his erection.

  Fuck. He sucked on her plump bottom lip, imagined doing the same to the tits currently pressed against his chest—and then she released a whimper and wrapped a leg around his waist.

  Ruben felt like he was drowning. Like every movement was slower and harder than it should be, than it needed to be, and he was desperate for things to speed up. He grabbed her thigh with his spare hand, pulled her leg higher, then shoved up the thick fabric of her coat because it was only getting in the fucking way. Next he shoved up her skirt, and then his fingers came into contact with the softness of her stockings. But even that wasn’t enough.

  He plundered her mouth even as his hands crept higher, searching out heaven. Searching out her skin. Finally, he found it, soft and almost vulnerable. He snapped the elastic of her suspenders and dragged himself away from her lips.“You weren’t kidding about the stockings.”