“But… she doesn’t seem like the type of grandmother who bakes cookies and puts together puzzles with the grandkids.”
“She’s a queen. She’s got other things she has to do. That doesn’t mean she’s not good with Elyse. And by the way, may I just say how utterly amazing it is that we’re having a conversation about an actual monarch?”
“It’s definitely surreal. But… what if… what if visiting with the queen somehow makes Elyse feel worse?”
Autumn frowned. “How could it?”
“I don’t know.” I couldn’t even really articulate my fear, but the thought of Elyse spending her afternoons in that closed-off chamber with that closed-off woman left me uneasy. Of course, the queen was likely less uptight with her granddaughter than she was with strangers bearing foreign wine, but still.
“She raised Nico, and he turned out okay, right?”
Hmm. That was true—in spite of some recent revelations about the prince’s nature when his old buddies were present. “I guess you’re right.”
“Well, I don’t know that I am. If I were you, I’d definitely keep an eye on the situation—at least as best you’re able.” She laughed abruptly.
“What?”
“I have to apologize. You told me those children were hard to reach, but I thought you just meant figuratively. But one escapes to the rooftops and the other hides behind a guarded door. That definitely qualifies as being hard to reach.”
I couldn’t help but laughing, too.
Nothing about this job was easy, but I supposed it was good that I knew little more about Elyse now than I did yesterday at this time.
We chatted for a few more minutes, but then Autumn had to get back to work. “Oh, but one more thing,” she said. “The university sent a welcome packet for you. Not sure what all’s in there, but it’s really thick. Would you like me to mail it to you?”
I sighed, a bit frustrated. Why couldn’t my new graduate school only send stuff electronically like everyone else? “No, that’s okay. I don’t need it right now.”
“All right,” Autumn said. There was a note of concern in her voice, and suddenly I remembered how excited we’d been when I’d been accepted to the teaching program at my old university. Or how we’d hugged and jumped up and down when she’d belatedly gotten her degree a few years later. Maybe it didn’t feel as exciting now because I’d already been through it once?
After we said goodnight, I couldn’t settle on any one task. I sent a few e-mails, caught up on the news back in the States, and played a few games online. Then it was official—I’d exhausted the things I could do in my room—yet I still felt restless.
Making a decision, I grabbed a sweater, pulling it on over the T-shirt and yoga pants I was wearing. I rolled up the sleeves and I pushed my feet into my slippers.
Navigating the castle was hard enough during the day. At night, it seemed even more daunting. And more than a little creepy.
Derrick liked to joke about the castle dungeons—at least I thought it was a joke, but right now, creeping down the ancient, dimly lit hallway, I wouldn’t have been too surprised to round a corner and encounter an inquisition or two.
I was pretty sure I was heading down the right hallway. It was older than the ones by the children’s rooms. And darker. Only every fourth or fifth overhead light was on, and for some reason, it looked like there should be lit torches along the wall every ten feet or so. And it felt far too quiet… except for the occasional creaks and groans older buildings always seemed to make.
At last, I came to what I thought was the right door and gave a soft knock. Almost immediately, I regretted it. This was dumb. It was late. I should be in bed.
I’d just turned away when I heard a sound.
“Cara?” The prince’s deep, rumbly voice sounded surprised.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know why I was here, so how could I explain it to him?
But it turns out I didn’t have to. After staring at me for a long moment, he held the door to his study open and stepped aside.
Avoiding his questioning eyes, I went in.
17
Nico
“Let me guess… back for more whiskey?”
Cara shook her head, moving toward the fire. “I think I’ll leave the whiskey drinking to the pros.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it didn’t really matter—not when my focus was on the slender figure warming up by the fire. She had some kind of leggings on, a pale blue color, and it was mesmerizing the way they hugged her. You’d think someone so tiny would have legs like matchsticks, but hers weren’t. They were gorgeous with pleasing curves. Her calves were slim but shapely, and I could see her small, rounded ankles above narrow feet that disappeared into fuzzy slippers.
The sweater she wore was huge, rolled up at the sleeves, and ending high on her thighs. For some reason, I’d always found it sexy when an oversized shirt just barely covered a woman’s ass.
She probably shouldn’t have looked beautiful in that outfit, but she did. And her wearing it meant she didn’t mind being relaxed around me. I spent my days surrounded by people in uniforms, ceremonial garb, and in some cases, crowns. That Cara would appear here in what seemed to be her pajamas pleased me.
I poured two drinks and handed her one.
She took it automatically, but then held it uncertainly. “I said I didn’t want any whiskey.”
“It’s Scotch,” I said. “Blake brought it.”
“Oh. Well… thank you.”
We clinked our glasses together and this time said cheers in English instead of German. I sat down on the leather couch and she joined me, taking a sip. “It doesn’t taste all that different.”
“Yeah, but you coughed less,” I observed.
“True.”
She curled her legs up underneath her like she’d done the first night she’d come here. Yet somehow it looked different this time.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I knew why. It was because things had changed. Her joining us for dinner last night had been eye-opening for me. It was like I’d truly seen her for the first time. Not just the way she looked, which had been spectacular. My heart had thudded irregularly when I saw her in that little black dress with those sexy legs ensconced in stockings and high heels.
But that wasn’t what had changed. It was my impression of her.
Somehow, last night Cara hadn’t been the young, naïve, immature girl I’d once thought she was. At dinner last night, it hit me that she was a woman. A young one, yes, but a fully mature, real woman.
Dinner had been enjoyable, but disconcerting, too. Because it’d felt like I was introducing my new girlfriend to my old friends. I knew that wasn’t the case, but that’s how it seemed. It had felt like we were a couple.
We couldn’t be.
We weren’t.
But it sure as hell had felt that way. Consequently, she looked different to me today. Still as beautiful as always, but more… real. Now I saw her as a real woman with real passions of her own.
And that was a problem. Because the beautiful, lovely, real young woman at my side could never be mine. She had a family to return to and graduate school to start. Her entire life was free and open before her whereas mine was set in stone.
Therefore, it would be better if neither of us had any pretenses about that. I knew what my life was like, and there was no place for a woman in it. Did she know that? Or maybe she hadn’t been thinking along those lines at all?
I shook my head. Maybe it was imagination—or maybe just simple vanity—but it seemed like she’d been looking at me differently last night, too.
For a while we sipped our drinks without speaking. The crackling fire helped to keep the silence from being awkward. It was hard not to feel relaxed in a room with a fireplace.
Finally, Cara broke her silence. “I really liked meeting your friends.”
“I was glad you could join us.”
“Me too.” She swirled her dr
ink around, seeming lost in thought. “You were different with them.”
I nodded, a half smile on my face. While Cara had changed in some kind of unclassifiable way yesterday, my change had been more straightforward: regression. “I bet it felt like you were meeting an entirely new person.”
“A little, yes.”
“But he wasn’t new. He’s old, in fact.”
“You’re only thirty,” she protested.
I chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant. That man you met at dinner, that’s who I used to be—not who I am now.”
“Oh.” She flushed slightly.
“It’s okay. Glad to hear that you don’t think thirty is ancient.”
“My sister would kill me if I did. She’ll be thirty next year.”
For some reason, I liked hearing that. Cara seemed quite close to her sister. Clearly that age gap didn’t affect their bond.
Cara shifted in her seat, scooting around until she was facing me. “The way you were last night… it didn’t really feel like a new person. It felt like something that had always been there inside of you, just kind of… buried.”
My eyes focused on the fire as I thought about that. “Possibly. Maybe buried very deep. So deep that I didn’t know he was still in there. But now he has to go back again.”
“Why?” Her question was innocent and curious, but it irritated me.
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s got no place here. He’s dangerous. He’s bad for the people around him.”
“He wasn’t bad for Blake and Penny.”
He was bad for Lisette.
The words were almost out of my mouth before I stopped them. Cara didn’t need to be burdened with that knowledge.
Cara seemed to know I was holding something back. “He wasn’t bad for me.”
Easy for her to think that. Women had always preferred the fun, easygoing guy, rather than the one who had to run a business and a country. And raise two increasingly distant children.
How typical that she liked the joking, arrogant asshole from last night.
Shit.
What was I thinking? Was I actually jealous of myself? Of course she liked the fun-loving version of me from last night. He didn’t constantly scowl at her.
“Maybe that can be part of who you are again,” Cara ventured.
“It can’t.”
“But why?”
“Because bad things happen when he takes charge.”
“All right,” Cara said. I could tell she didn’t entirely believe me, but she didn’t push. That was one of the things I liked about her. That and her lips. For some reason, I couldn’t stop staring at them. They looked so soft and pink with a slight shimmer from the Scotch.
Aware I was staring, I tried to look away, but my eyes returned to hers as if drawn by magnets. Even in the firelight, those blue eyes glistened. Her voice was lower, somehow huskier when she spoke. “Even if you don’t let him out to play much, he’s still a part of you”
Play.
That was a dangerous word in this situation.
“Nico, it’s okay to let your hair down sometimes.”
Suddenly my hand was moving my finger stretching to touch her hair. She stilled at my touch, staring up at me.
I plunged my hand into her blonde mane, letting the silky strands flow through my fingers.
And then it wasn’t enough for either of us. She moved toward me at the same time I wrapped my palm around the back of her head and pulled her close.
My eyes zeroed in on those soft pink lips as I moved in, leaving the barest gap between us. But she closed that distance in an instant, pressing her lips against mine.
God. How had I not realized that every fiber in my being had wanted this—probably from the first moment I saw her? From the first moment I caught her in my arms at the station?
That’s where I wanted her right now, engulfed in my embrace. Without breaking the kiss, I scooped her up, pulling her onto my lap. She went willingly, her thighs spreading as she straddled me. Her hands rose to my face as our lips sealed our connection.
Despite her firm grip on me, her mouth was soft. I tasted the faint flavor of Scotch along with a rich, heady note that was all woman. My tongue darted out, tracing the seam of her lips, flickering back and forth until they opened.
I groaned at the increased contact, my hands surrounding her, moving up and down her back and cupping that plush but firm ass underneath her sweater. I couldn’t get enough of her. And from the way she had her arms wrapped around my neck, from the way she was eagerly returning my kiss, it seemed like she couldn’t get enough, either.
It was one thing for me to want something I couldn’t have. It was entirely different for her to want that.
This was bad. A really bad idea.
But it didn’t feel bad. It felt fucking amazing. To have her in my arms after all this time. To feel her energy and excitement as I held her, smashing her against my chest. It was like holding a live wire.
Cara tilted her head to the side and peppered my jawline with little kisses. Taking advantage of her position, I attacked her neck, kissing, nuzzling, and caressing it with my mouth. She moaned, deep in her throat, and I could feel the vibrations tickle my lips. That was so fucking hot. My cock agreed, growing even harder and straining for contact.
I inhaled Cara’s sweet scent as I dragged my nose up to her ear, nibbling on the lobe. Her hands were a vice grip on my neck, pulling me closer. Her hips—they were going to be the death of me. She was grinding against me like she was riding my cock. I would’ve given my kingdom for the power to make the layers of clothes between us vanish in an instant.
Her head fell back and her eyes closed as I ran my hands up her sides, moving deftly under her sweater. She arched her back, pushing her chest against mine, and that was all the invitation I needed to slide a hand under her shirt as well. The high-pitched, shuddery moan she let out when I cupped my hand around her soft breast was music to my ears. I could’ve listened to that sound all day.
My other hand wrapped around her sweet ass, squeezing as I held her. She spread her thighs even wider to nestle against me, and finally I could feel her core pressed against the straining bulge in my pants. “Oh, yessss,” she moaned.
God, I wanted to strip her and free my cock but I knew it was too soon. None of this was right, but that would really be wrong. I wasn’t sure Cara was on the same page, though. Not with the way she was grinding her warm core up and down my hard length.
After one last squeeze of her ass, I fisted my free hand in her hair, pulling her in to resume our kiss. As her open lips met mine, my fingers connected with her firm nipple. She gasped and I swallowed her moan as I worked her sensitive bud between my fingers. Cara pushed her tongue into my mouth, exploring eagerly as she rode up and down on my lap. Her moans and gasps as I teased her nipple between my finger and thumb made me thrust my hips more, positioning my cock to press against her core, even through the layers of fabric.
Evidently Cara was as frustrated with the excess clothing as I was because her fingers kept fumbling with the buttons of my shirt. Every time she’d almost get one unfastened, I’d pinch her nipple or bite her lip and she’d lose focus, holding onto my collar as she writhed up and down.
It drove me crazy that she was too distracted even to unbutton a shirt. She was helpless under the onslaught of my hands, my mouth, my tongue. She was as overwhelmed with sensations as I was.
Switching my hold on her, I slid my other hand up her shirt to caress her other nipple. This time, Cara arched her back so much that I wrapped my free hand behind the small of her back, afraid she’d overbalance and fall. Her head was tilted toward the ceiling, moans coming from her open mouth.
I wanted my mouth on her nipple instead of my hand. I wanted my cock inside her instead of separated by our clothes. I knew I could double the amount of pleasure she was feeling now. Triple it, even.
Cara grasped onto my shoulder as I squeezed and kneaded her breast under her shirt, th
rusting my hips up to meet hers. With her eyes closed, she ran her fingers down my shirt, finding my belt. She was breathing hard, warm air coming out of her mouth in shuddery gasps.
With a shaky hand, she pushed at the leather, trying to get the buckle open without much success. Evidently she didn’t have much experience with undressing a man while writing on top of him.
Shit.
My mind cleared enough to wonder exactly how much experience she had. She was amazingly responsive to my touch, but a nagging voice in the back of my head wondered if she’d done this before. She must have—she was a beautiful woman and it was clear she was enjoying this a lot. But what if she hadn’t? That would make this even more wrong.
Giving up on my belt buckle, Cara focused instead on her own clothes, her hands grasping the base of her sweater. To distract her, I pinched her nipple and she yipped in response. God, what a sound. I wanted to make her make that sound all night.
But I shouldn't.
Sliding my fingers out from under her shirt, I captured her hands, stopping her from taking off her sweater. Frowning, she opened her impossibly blue eyes. “Why… why are you stopping?”
I didn’t want to say what I had to say next. I didn’t want to see this gorgeous, passionate woman turn back into an acquaintance. An employee. I wanted the real woman—every inch of her.
But I couldn’t.
Gently, I lifted her, swinging her legs around so that she was sitting crossways on my lap, careful not to let her brush against my throbbing cock. With one arm around her back, I just watched her flushed skin in the soft light from the fire while I tried to get my breathing under control.
The look of hurt in her eyes when she realized that this was where the night ended was devastating. Instead of pulling away, though, she just looked up at me and asked again, “Why?”
“We can’t, Cara.”
“But I want to.”
“Me too,” I said with a sigh. “You have no idea how much.”
“I have some idea.” She shifted her hips, making her sweet ass rub lightly against my legs. But when she emphasized her point by placing her hand on top of the still-hard bulge in my pants, I stopped her.
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