She kissed her way back up my stomach, and I tilted her chin so I could look in her eyes. It didn’t matter if she was naked, dressed in thousand-dollar lingerie or in a ballgown. Charlotte’s eyes were the sexiest part of her. They told you exactly what she was thinking if you knew where to look.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You. I want you.”
She took a step around me and kneeled on the bench. Then she spread her thighs, and looked back at me with a smile that almost made me come.
“Damn it, Charlie. I don’t want to hurt you.” I’d been planning on giving her a day to recover, for her flesh to lose a little of the sting. My actions didn’t match my words, and I found myself snug against her back, my cock hitting her entrance so perfectly it was almost like the shower had been designed with us in mind.
“You won’t.” She looked over her shoulder, and I captured her mouth in a kiss. I tried to be gentle, but she sucked my tongue into her mouth, and all bets were off.
My hand swept down her hips, and my fingers slipped along her entrance.
“Fuck. You’re wet.” And it had nothing to do with the shower.
“I told you. You won’t hurt me. Now. Jameson.”
I adjusted my stance and thrust slowly, penetrating her in one smooth motion until I was seated to the hilt. God, the woman was silk and fire. Cupping her breast with one hand and securing her hip with the other, I started a slow, easy pace.
“Jaime,” she whimpered, squirming against me.
“What, Charlie? Don’t you like that?”
“Yes,” she moaned, her head landing along my shoulder as I pushed in and out of her tight heat. Fuck, I was never going to get used this, never get enough of it.
“What do you need, baby?”
“I...need…” She arched against me, pushing her ass harder into me, and I backed off.
“What?” Another slow stroke.
“Fuck me, Jameson.”
I thrust into her, hard, and then paused, resting my head against hers to gain some control. Those words out of her mouth were explosive. She wiggled against me, and I thrust slowly.
“I’m not kidding. You’ve made love to me countless times, Jaime. But I want all of you. Every side of you. I’m your wife, and I deserve it.”
I groaned, nipping at the wet skin of her shoulder.
“Now,” she ordered. “I promise, it doesn’t hurt.”
Damn it. My wife was sore, her beautiful body used repeatedly over the last three days in the most delicious ways, and she wanted it hard. I almost laughed. I could command my entire nation, but only this woman was capable of commanding me.
“Put your hands on the wall,” I ordered.
She splayed her fingers on the rock, bracing herself.
I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into the smooth skin.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes,” she keened, pushing back against me.
“Your wish is my command, wife.”
I slammed home, and we both groaned. Fuck that was good. Everything with her was good. Better than good. Fucking epic.
My pace quickened until I was fucking her hard, driving into her deep, her moans coming with the rhythm of my thrusts. My name had never sounded so good echoing off a shower wall.
I pulled her against me but didn’t relent on the pace, swirling my fingers over her clit until her keening cries were constant. Only when I felt her muscles tighten, her pussy clamp down on me in the flutters of her orgasm, did I let myself go. My orgasm ripped through me, nearly violent in its intensity, but I managed to stay on my feet.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you,” I answered.
Then we washed, our touches slow and easy. Once we were clean, I killed the water and wrapped her in a fluffy towel.
“Now what?” she asked with a grin.
“Now we get to work.”
“No more sex?” she pouted.
I laughed and kissed her forehead. “Tell you what. You ever get the urge in the middle of the day, just lock my office door and cry Switzerland.”
“Deal.”
She smacked my ass as I walked toward the closet.
God Damn, I was a lucky man.
Holy shit, I was fucked.
The daily report was a pile of fresh hell on my father’s massive, antique desk.
It was mine now, and so was that damn report.
“So if you get through this by nine, we’ll have a good idea of where each day is headed. You’re briefed on the state of affairs and can go about other business,” Anthony said from the chair across from my desk.
“Right.” I removed my suit coat and hung it over the chair.
“I can take that,” he offered.
“In here, my office, my rules. Coat stays on the back of my seat.”
He nodded. “Got it.”
Two hours later, it was nearly lunch, I was starving, and I was finally at the end of the damn pile. Apparently we were in trade negotiations with Japan, health care was undergoing a mini face-lift when it needed a massive overhaul, and there was still a wage gap between the sexes. All before lunch.
“Okay, so basically, I need to get in here by eight every morning.”
“If not seven,” Anthony agreed, managing my schedule on his iPad.
“See what we can do about getting this information digitally. I know it’s classified, or at least some of it is, but let’s get a system going where we can cut out this giant stack of shit on the desk, shall we? Modernize a little?”
“Sounds good, Sir. Now, about the coronation details…”
“What’s not done?”
“There’s a matter of flowers, timing—”
“Get ahold of Sophie. She’s always good at that stuff, and she won’t mind.”
“We’ve had a request from the Foundation of Women’s Progression to open an office in the administration wing of the palace. Of course, they’re out of their minds—”
“Allow it.”
“Sir?” His eyes flew wide.
I moved the papers back to the giant box they’d been sent in. It looked like a coffin. For my soul.
“My wife took a job chairing that foundation, so unless we want security running around with her to their offices, it seems safer to open a branch in the administration wing. Plus, it lessens her commute time.”
“Her Highness has a job?” His jaw just about hit the floor.
“Yep. New era, Anthony. Over the next couple of weeks, we’ll see what Queenly duties she’d like to take on, and which she’d rather delegate. But make no mistakes about it, Charlotte has the choice.”
“Yes, Sir.” A slow smile spread across his face as he typed onto his iPad.
“Now, if you could contact Sir Naughton and Lady Livingstone, set up two separate meetings so I can figure out why the hell they can’t agree on this healthcare bill. Also, contact Tessa Amers at the Women’s League and get her here, too. We’ll see what’s on their agenda for this pay gap issue. Also, I know we have a mid-term election coming up for the House of Commons. I won’t sway the public, but I’d like details on who is running and what their platforms are.”
“Right away.” He grinned.
“You’re smiling. A lot. Not going to lie, it’s a little creepy.”
He pressed his lips flat, but the smile was still there.
“It’s nothing, Your Highness. I’m just excited. You are exactly what our country needs.”
Well, shit.
“Thank you.” I cleared my throat. “Now, if we could—”
The door flew open, startling me. Sophie raced through, Oliver hot on her heels.
“I need him first!” She snapped.
“Whoa, Sophie…” I put my hands up, like that would calm her. She never took that tone, let alone with Oliver.
“I assure you, my matter is more important,” Oliver answered, his voice quiet and deadly calm.
Blatantly ignoring him, she sla
mmed a newspaper on my desk.
“The Globe? Seriously? You read this shit?” I raised an eyebrow at her.
She gave that look right back to me and flipped it over to reveal what was beneath the fold.
“Fuck,” I hissed.
Brie was splattered all over the front page. She was in a white gown cut straight to her belly button, with some asshole’s tongue down her throat and a bottle of champagne in her hand. And was that his hand in her dress? Damn it.
The headline read, “Princess Brie grants a stage hand an All-Acess Pass.”
“Where the fuck is she?” I seethed.
“Paris. The new Dior show. I guess this was backstage, and the curtain...well, it didn’t stay closed.”
“Neither did her fucking dress.”
“I really need to speak with you, Jameson.” Oliver barked.
My eyes flew to his, my stomach sinking at the tense set of his face.
“Go ahead.”
He glanced at Sophie.
“What? I’m not the weeping, simpering little girl you seem to think I am, Oliver. Go ahead.” She folded her arms and glared.
Huh. Well, this dynamic just got more interesting.
He gave her the classic WTF look and sighed.
“Go ahead, Oliver.”
He removed an envelope from inside his suit coat, opened it, and placed the contents on my desk. They were pictures of Brie with the same french breast-grabber, but they were from above.
Directly above.
“How the hell did he get this angle?”
Oliver shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve already demanded answers from her security, but you know she likes to give them the slip. That’s not the worst part.” Using a pen, he flipped the picture over.
Typed in neat letters, on the center of the photograph, it said:
It was so easy to get close.
Want to know how much closer we can get?
Lower yourself and beg.
Abdicate, or there will be one less Wyndham to rule.
Abolish the Monarchy.
My breath abandoned me in a rush as if I’d been punched in the stomach.
Sophie craned her neck, turning to read the message.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
She shook it off. “God, people are sick. I’ll get Georgia and see what PR wants to do about this latest little Brie scandal. A kiss is one thing, but he’s practically at third base.”
All the male heads swung in Sophie’s direction.
“What?” she asked.
“Do you know what third base is?” I asked.
My little sister flushed, the color of her skin turning as pink as her dress. “Of course I do. Look where his hand is.”
We remained silent.
“What? That’s not…” She glanced at us in turn.
Anthony dropped his gaze to the floor.
She looked at me, and I shook my head. “Not going there with my little sister.”
She scoffed. “I’m twenty-five years old.”
“Yeah, still not going there.”
“That’s…” She looked at Oliver and pointed to the picture.
“Not third.” He didn’t look away, simply stared at her like he’d never seen her before.
She looked back at the picture. “Well, whatever it is, it needs to be handled. It as in the situation, not her breast. Or...him. Oh my God, I’m leaving.” She made her way to the door, turning at the last second. “Oh, and Jameson. Don’t stress. We get sick crap like that all the time. Don’t let it upset you. Dad just used to burn them.”
The door shut softly behind her as she exited.
With Sophie gone, the atmosphere in the office turned tense.
“You know why I brought this to you,” Oliver said, taking the pictures and putting them back in the envelope. “And before you ask, there are no fingerprints or other ways to identify the sender.”
I nodded.
“What is it?” Anthony asked.
“The words in the threat. They’re twisted versions of what I said to Parliament to get them to change the Coronation Laws.”
“Oh. That’s weird. What am I missing?”
“It was a closed session,” Oliver said quietly, his jaw locking.
“Whoever set this up was there. This threat is coming from someone in Parliament. Bring Brie home right-fucking-now.”
Charlotte
“It’s clear, Your Highness,” Ian said, holding the door to the conference room and ushering me inside.
I smiled and nodded as I passed him, and though I’d been a Duchess all my life, I was still getting used to the Your Highness title. Every time someone greeted me or addressed me as such, I had the uncontrollable instinct to look over my shoulder for the queen, or Jaime, or any other Wyndham. Never me. Not until I’d had the dream wedding of my life and got to keep the love of my life as a bonus, too.
As soon as we were coronated, it would change to Your Majesty. Unbelievable.
“I thought you were planning on flying back with Xander?” I asked the queen as she grinned at me from the end of the table. Georgia sat to her left, armed with an iPad and a planner six inches thick.
“I leave today,” the queen answered. “I wanted to make sure you are transitioning into your role well before the coronation.”
I took a seat on her right, the chair she’d left open at the head of the table. “I truly appreciate that,” I said and meant every word. I’d been raised for this position, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified I’d slip up and ruin us all. I took a steadying breath. I had Jaime. He was my king, and we could face any obstacle thrown our direction.
“You’re more than qualified to rule this country alongside my son, Charlotte,” the queen said, beaming. She looked a few years younger, and I wondered if the love her sons had found helped ease some of her stress. “Though, some of the day to day tasks of being Queen of Elleston can be exhausting, and quite tricky if left unattended.” She gave a fast nod to Georgia, who perked up and slid the leather-bound planner before me.
“Don’t let it overwhelm you,” Georgia said as I ran my fingers over the binding.
It was a rich hunter-green dyed leather and engraved in the center was a single, stunning gardenia. My lips turned upward, my cheeks warmed, and my heart raced.
“Jaime,” I said, touching the center of the planner. How was it possible that I’d kissed him this morning and already missed him? After Brie’s scandal, and yet another death threat, he’d had to rush off to a meeting with the security director. And I was needed here.
“He had a hand in it,” Georgia said.
“He may have always been a wild thing, but that boy always paid attention to details,” the queen gazed at the planner.
I couldn’t contain the smile-turned-smirk as I thought about just how wild Jaime truly was, especially when it came to driving me mad in the bedroom. Or in the shower. Or the cold surface of his desk.
A warm shiver teased up my spine, and I shifted in the chair, tugging my pencil skirt down in an attempt to focus. “All right,” I said, clearing my throat and opening the planner. “Where do we start?”
The queen sat up straighter in her chair, leaning closer to me to flip a few pages into the book. She tapped a perfectly polished finger on the top of it. “You are already more than aware of this list—the daily duties that need addressing. Letters from government ministers with specific request for the queen’s attention, Commonwealth officials, select charities you champion boards of directors, and treasury updates…”
I read the list and followed along as she continued. She was right, I’d been aware of the queen’s expected daily duties for years, but hearing it all in one sitting and from the queen’s own mouth….it was a bit overwhelming.
“Don’t worry, Charlotte,” she said after finishing the list. “In a few months, this will all be second nature. The true challenge to being Queen?”
I swallowed hard. “What’s that?
”
“Supporting the King, even when he’s wrong.” She eyed me knowingly, and I pressed my lips together.
Jaime was wild and impulsive and reacted on instinct, but that didn’t mean he would make poor choices for Elleston.
“Luckily for you,” she continued. “Jameson will listen to reason from the right person.” She smiled. “You’ve always been that person.” She sighed, a wistful look filling her eyes. “You and Xander have always been his world, even when he was doing everything he could to live outside of it.”
“And he’s been mine.” I blinked away the emotion threatening to drown our business meeting with tears. “They both have. All of you, actually.” I’d always been grateful for the closeness of our families, and now we’d finally merged as one, and would someday start a new one…together. Suddenly it hit me just how incredibly lucky I was.
And when I saw the role set before me through the eyes of a woman with the love and support of her best friend, the man of her dreams, with an entire family behind us, it didn’t seem as impossible.
The queen squeezed my hand before quickly settling back in her chair. “Right. Now, back to business.”
I nodded, glancing at Georgia who had locked into her cell, typing furiously while I had a moment with my now mother-in-law. Georgia’s eyes flickered up to mine, and she set her phone down.
“Daily duties aside,” Georgia said and flipped through a chunk of pages until she’d landed on the calendar for the week of the Coronation. “This will be the beginning of your public appearances, and it will be explosive after that.” She gauged my reaction as she flipped to the next week. And then the one after that. And again.
“So many appearances,” I said, my eyes widening as I skimmed over the what seemed endless penned meetings. Each was color-coded and had notes in the margin regarding what was expected I do at these appearances and what I most certainly shouldn’t do, too.
“These are only the ones Elleston’s traditions have decided for you,” she said. “Tradition dictates a great deal of your schedule—gatherings and functions the queen has always appeared at—but you do have some wiggle room. We can add any you like, as long as there is no major conflict, and some can be canceled.” She laid her palm flat over the pages, her eyes so serious as they bored into mine. “That’s why I need you to study this for the next two weeks as you await coronation. The sooner you bring something to me that you don’t want to do, the sooner I can swing it. If you wait until last minute, it will be chaos.”
The Throne Page 15
