Suspended: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  My phone dings, and a laugh bursts from my chest with hysterical relief as I see Pierre’s reply — a big, yellow hand with the thumbs up gesture. The hardass Chief Royal Guard of Pridemore has texted me back in emoji. Who the hell would have thought?

  The stewardess reaches my seat and gives me a concerned frown. “Are you okay, Lady Strathmore?”

  I hold out a hand. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m great, actually! But I’m so sorry — I need to get off the plane.”

  “I’m so sorry, but that’s not possible.”

  The curtain at the front of the plane whips open, and the first stewardess glares into the cabin. She gives me a disapproving frown, then nods at her co-worker and jerks her head toward the exit.

  Laughter bubbles up again before I clap my hand over my mouth. She waves me forward and works to open the cabin door.

  As I make my way up the aisle, I dip my head, bowing to the other passengers with apology. “I am so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  I reach the exit and turn back to them with a wave, my lips breaking into a wide grin, joy bubbling up from my chest for the first time in ages. “Have a great flight!”

  Is this what it feels like to be in love? Giddy and scared and ready to jump off a plane if they don’t hurry up with those damned stairs.

  The first stewardess glares at me as the doorway unseals and the steps begin to lower. “You must be something special, darlin’. They’ve halted all ground traffic just for you.” There’s a snarl in her voice and she continues muttering to herself as we wait for the stairs to lower, but no amount of grumbling is going to wipe this grin off my face.

  I bounce on my feet impatiently and as soon as the stairs are lowered enough to create an open wedge, I poke my head out and scan the tarmac. A company of black suited men burst from the airport, Pierre at the head, pointing toward the plane and speaking over his shoulder.

  A hand appears on Pierre’s shoulder, and he’s pulled to the side, exposing Henry. The plane’s steps finally touch the pavement, and I skip every other one as I stumble down them.

  When he catches sight of me, Henry lowers his head and shoulders and rockets into a sprint. I can’t hear it, but a curse forms on Pierre’s mouth, and he takes off after Henry at a dead run, issuing orders to the security detail as he goes.

  I run, and my legs and lungs are burning by the time we draw close. Henry opens his arms, and I fly into them, hitting his chest with such force it knocks him backward into Pierre. The security chief steadies us then steps back to give us space.

  From behind the security team the airport doors have burst open, and dozens of paparazzi are spilling out. Photographers trying to snap pictures as they race toward us, journalist holding microphones, their suits flapping as they run, reporters shouting at their cameramen to hurry up.

  But I don’t care who’s watching. I plant my lips on Henry and dive in. My hands are in his hair, and Henry squeezes me tightly to his chest, my feet leaving the ground.

  I gasp in a breath, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave. I should have listened to my gut. I knew, I knew all along it wasn’t true! I should have—”

  Henry’s lips crush against mine, drowning my guilt and remorse in one heady wave of passion.

  “No more should have’s,” he says, sweeping a lock of my hair behind my ear, cradling my face in his hands. “I’ve had enough of those in my life. I want to move forward with you, not look back on should have’s. Can we do that?”

  I nod as quickly as my jittering muscles will allow. “Yes. Please, yes!” It comes tumbling out in a torrid rush. “I love you, Henry. I’ve loved you my whole life. Of course, I’ll marry you – now, tomorrow, always.”

  His eyes shine with tears as he stares at me with a wide, sexy grin, shaking his head in awe. “You are my everything, Abi.”

  Chapter 26

  HENRY

  Is this real? Is this moment actually happening to me?

  One minute, I’m pouring out my confession of love to the outstretched mics and recorders and cameras pointed at me, the next minute Pierre’s stepped away, speaking rapidly into his phone, his eyes flashing at me. And then he’s pulled me outside, and I see the plane stopped at the edge of the runway, and I know. In that moment, I know that my world just snapped back together.

  The second I saw her standing at the open door of that plane, I was sprinting, running like my life depended on it.

  And now she’s in my arms.

  And this glorious moment — it’s not a stolen kiss, hiding around the corner in a darkened stairwell. No. She’s right here, kissing me in broad daylight with a slew of reporters and airport passengers looking on, stunned.

  But no one is more stunned than I am. Because this beautiful woman is mine. My heart might burst with how amazing it feels.

  And the words coming from those sweet lips set my heart soaring higher than any damn jetliner in this nation. Now. Tomorrow. Always.

  I want to run through the airport and find a priest, a rabbi, an imam, a justice of the peace — I don’t care. Those lips on mine are everything I need. She’s beautiful in blue jeans, her hair blowing across her face, her lips red with passion.

  “I want you to have it all,” I tell her. “Bouquets of fresh flowers and dancing and a gorgeous gown with a train thirty feet long.”

  She laughs, and it’s the most carefree, delightful thing I’ve ever heard. “I would fall on my face in something like that.”

  “Then skip the dress. I can picture it now — naked as a bluejay except for the veil. Mmmm, now that would be fantastic.”

  Abi strikes my chest with a closed fist, but she giggles and gives me a sly grin. “It would make for interesting wedding pictures.”

  “Oh, God. It would kill the poor royal photographer. He’d take one look at your gorgeous curves and just die from sheer amazement right there.”

  The roar of engines fills the air, and she looks over her shoulder at the plane, resuming its course to the runway. Her smile falters as she watches, and I can see it in her face — standing here with me, newly engaged, might be making some of her wishes come true, but that plane is leaving with the rest of them.

  That’s not going to do. I meant it when I told her I want her to have it all. She’s has already given up enough for others and put her dreams on hold too long — this is one thing she is not going to be sacrificing.

  I motion to Pierre, who’s been watching the security team and the growing crowd like a hawk.

  Instantly he’s by my side. “Your Highness?”

  “How soon can the royal jet be made ready?” I say in a low voice as Abi turns to face the runway and takes a few steps forward, her hand shielding her eyes as she watches the plane.

  “Where to, sir? Johannesburg?”

  Pierre never misses a thing. “Yes, precisely,” I say.

  He’s already got his phone in hand, messaging with furious speed. A moment later he looks up, the powerful whine of the plane barreling down the runway almost drowning out his reply. “The pilots report that once they’re on premises, it should only take about half an hour before we can get the bird in the air.”

  He glances down at his phone again as it chirps with the arrival of a new message. “It’ll probably be a good two hours before the flight crew can get here — they were at the monthly Airguard training in Fresbey, sir, but they’re leaving now.”

  I nod. “Perfect.”

  “Your car is here, Your Highness,” Pierre says, nodding his head toward the airport. A shiny black Rolls Royce comes around the corner of the building and pulls up to us. I look back to Abi, whose gaze has lifted to the sky, following the plane as it streaks away through the air.

  “Would you like to return to the palace or shall I arrange for a private lounge while you wait, sir?”

  “Neither. I’m taking Abi straight to the jet. We’ll be in my cabin. We have… a lot of catching up to do.”

  The briefest flash of a knowing smile
moves across Pierre’s lips, but it’s gone a second later, replaced with his usual stern expression. “Understood, Your Highness.”

  “Text me when the crew arrives,” I instruct. “But no one enters the hanger until you’ve got the all-clear from me.” I glance at Abi, soaking in her long legs and those long strands of dark hair whipping in the breeze, the way those jeans curve under her perfect, round ass. “I think we’re both a bit tired of being discreet and quiet, if you see what I mean.”

  “Quite, sir.”

  I don’t believe I’ve ever seen my chief of security blush, but a shade of red graces his cheeks as he turns and gestures toward the large hangar at the far end of the airport property, the one with my family’s gold and burgundy crest emblazoned on the side.

  “We need a half mile perimeter around the royal hanger!” he commands to the guard staff.

  I can’t keep my hands off Abi on the short ride to the hangar, so I don’t even try. I pull her to me, running my hands through her hair, over her breasts, across her smooth ass.

  Abi throws a leg over mine and we entwine, lost in one another in the back of the Rolls. I release a long sigh of desire, and she takes my face in both hands and kisses me with such longing that I’m ready to lay her out on the seat and take her right there.

  Instead, I press her to my chest, holding her tightly, a thousand thank yous flowing silently from me to the heavens.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? Fly me to Africa?”

  “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you,” I say.

  “How’s this going to work? Is the Crown Price of Ostwyn suddenly going to take up a shovel and start digging wells?”

  I nod. “These hands can do more than just wave at people from the Royal motorcade.”

  She blushes. “Oh, I know what those hands can do.”

  The Rolls comes to a halt in front of the royal hangar, but I’m loathe to let go of her long enough to exit the car. But there’s a fire in Abi’s eyes, a desire that calls for me to answer, and I know she wants us to be alone — naked and doing more than just kissing.

  Two short knocks sound against the darkened window at the passenger’s side. “Ready?” I ask.

  This deliciously devilish grin comes over her. She slips her palm between us, cupping the bulge at the front of my pants. “Just as ready as you.”

  I reluctantly release her, and she untangles her legs from mine. I knock a return signal on the window and the door opens, my chauffeur holding a hand out to Abi. I exit the car behind her and we walk quickly toward the reinforced steel door where I punch a code into the keypad. Metallic clicks sound off as the locks disengage. Inside, I flip on a row of switches directly to the right of the door, and the hanger comes to light.

  “Oh!” Abi’s eyes pop open.

  The huge jet is immaculate, the lights shining off its bright white finish. It’s no small puddle jumper. There’s enough room for the entire Ostwyn Press Corp and a detachment of Royal Guards to be seated as well as private cabins where the royal family can watch the cricket match or catch some sleep.

  The forward hatch to the jet has been opened, awaiting our entrance, and I take Abi’s hand, eager to get her inside. We step onto the hydraulic lift and ascend through the air to the doorway.

  We step into the jet, and Abi whistles. “Wow. Nice plane you have here, Prince Henry.”

  She runs her hand across the burgundy and gold embroidery on the headrests of the plush leather seats in the press lounge and begins to sit down in the nearest one, but I smile and give her hand a tug.

  “Not here,” I say. “This way.”

  I guide her down the wide aisles, past rows of plush seating and flat-screen televisions, through several doorways, past the dining room, galley kitchen, two offices, and a conference room. I punch in the keycode to the door of the royal suite and whirl her inside. The king size bed is freshly made up with satin sheets.

  The door clicks with a lock behind us, and I hook my fingers into Abi’s belt loops, urging her closer. Abi’s palms smooth up my chest, leaving fire in her wake. She grabs my button-up shirt by the collar and pulls me in for a kiss. The top two buttons on my shirt snap free and clatter to the floor.

  Abi’s eyes go wide with a hand-in-the-cookie-jar, uh oh look. “Oops.”

  I can’t hold my amusement in. “Well, well, what is this? Has Abigail Strathmore finally lost her restraint?”

  Her pretty eyes flutter down to the patch of exposed skin on my chest. “I guess I just don’t know my own strength.”

  That’s something I’ll make sure she never forgets. “You’re strong. Stronger than me, that’s for damn sure.”

  Abi’s hands run across my chest and thick shoulders then squeeze down on my biceps. “I don’t know… these arms are packing some serious power. I love how they feel wrapped around me.”

  I give her what she wants — what we both want — encapsulating her in a tight embrace and pressing my lips to hers. She slides her hands down from my collar to where the second button of my shirt popped away. Her lips curl up into a smile as we kiss, and she pulls at the fabric.

  More buttons tear free, and I decide to go for it. I let Abi go and finish the job, ripping the shirt down the middle and peeling it off. I pull my under-shirt over my head and toss it to the ground.

  I give her an expectant look. “You next.”

  Abi is no stranger to stripping for me, not after all the things we’ve done, but she still gives me a shy glance and bites at her bottom lip as she unfastens one blouse button then the next. She knows it’s different this time. She knows all of our waiting and teasing has come to this moment.

  Her fingers tremble, but only slightly, and I try to decipher how much of that tremor is nervousness and how much is excitement. I know one thing — there’s no mistaking the deep-seated desire in those emerald eyes.

  She slowly exposes her ample breasts, her fingers trailing over the soft swells as she pulls the shirt away.

  “More,” I say, drinking in every inch of skin she reveals.

  She keeps going, lifting it away teasingly slow until she gives a few sensual shrugs and it falls from her shoulders.

  I know she needs this to go slow, but I’m coming to the end of my restraint. I can’t keep away any longer. I step forward and take her by the waist, pulling down a cup of her bra.

  I take her breast in my hand, squeezing gently. Her skin is silky and yielding to my touch. Her nipple is firm and erect, calling for my mouth. I lean down and flick my tongue against it then suck the bud into my mouth. I’m rewarded with a long, low moan, and Abi’s hands sinks down, her fingers seeking for the button of my trousers.

  I use the opportunity to slip my fingers under the back waistband of her jeans. I rub my hand across her firm flesh, massage her heated skin, and she wiggles her ass.

  I need more of her skin against mine, and I move to her zipper as she undoes mine. We work together to undress one another, pulling at denim and slacks until the fabric slides down our thighs and onto the floor.

  Reaching around Abi, I unclasp her bra, and her full breasts fill my palms. I sink down so I can take her nipples into my mouth, first one then the other. Abi’s fingers dig into my hair, holding me to her, her breathy moans pleading for more. But I keep moving down. Down the soft skin of her abdomen, down further to her belly button. I dip my tongue inside then trace a line to the band of her panties.

  I crook a finger into the silky fabric, smelling her arousal, and pull the thin fabric down to her thighs. She breathes deeply, every lungful coming out in a sighing moan. Abi’s hips move toward me, her body pleading. Sliding a finger between her folds, I trace little circles around her clit teasingly.

  A shudder passes through her body, and she tightens her grip on my shoulders. “Take me to bed, please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  I stand to my feet, and Abi reaches into my boxer briefs. I twitch in her hand as she strokes me. “We’ve both been waiting too long for this.”


  Dipping low, I pick Abi up, and she wraps her legs around my hips. It’s only a few steps to the king-size bed, and then we’re spilling on top of it. Abi scoots to the head of the bed, tossing her panties to the side before she stretches out on her back. I slip my boxers off, kicking them to the floor before crawling to her.

  We’ve been here before. Her beauty laid out beneath me as I lay between her legs. I take a moment to admire Abi’s naked body – her breasts curve away from her chest, the firm buds of her nipples pointing at me. Her wide hips, plump ass, and those glorious thighs, inviting to be touched.

  I draw my eyes back up the length of her form as I lean over top of her, knowing that this time there is no limit to the amount of pleasure I can give her.

  “You’re so goddamn beautiful, you know that?”

  “Shhh,” she whispers, a devilish look in her eye. “No more talking — just doing.”

  Abi lifts her back from the satin bedspread to meet me, drawing near, and I caress her face, letting my hand run down her jaw to her neck, gently sliding my fingers across her soft, smooth skin. The air between us feels charged with electricity.

  I lower my face, and I kiss her, reaching for her lips, wanting every taste I can get. Abi runs her hand between us and lets out a little gasp as my hard cock slips between her fingers and nudges against her sex.

  “That’s because of you,” I tell her with a grin. “It’s all your sexy curves, my Lady. They slay me every time.”

  She bends her knees up and lets her legs fall open a bit, inviting me in. I caress her thighs and her stomach and lower my lips to hers for a deep kiss, doing with my tongue what I’m about to do elsewhere.

  Abi moans and bucks her hips. “Now. I want you inside me right now.”

  I nestle closer to her, rubbing her pussy with the head of my cock. I’m amazed at how wet she is for me. “Damn, woman,” I say admiringly.

  “I’ve been thinking about this a long time,” she confesses, a throaty whisper as I slide my cock against her clit.