Was it weird to find that scent of home in a fabric softener? It was just so different to what they used in the palace.
She hadn’t thought she’d gone for a cheap brand of cleaning products, but having stayed here and had her panties washed by the Royal Laundry, yeah, she’d learned otherwise.
Even her scratchy panties were like silk now, and she had no idea what the people in charge of her laundry did to them to make them that way but they should sell their secret.
They’d make a fortune. Perhaps even enough to pay for the dams she was insisting the country needed.
Her lips twitched at the thought, but not enough to curve into a smile.
Boy, she was tired today. Really, really tired.
She switched out of her more formal office gear, which for many women would be basic as hell but was way too rigid for her tastes—a white shirt and tailored pants, and found comfort in her slob clothes.
As she unfastened the knot her hair was tied into, she headed out of the room and found Xavier there. She blinked in surprise, not having expected to see him.
Ever since she’d told the King she and Edward were dating, and that it was serious, she hadn’t seen him.
He’d stayed with her after George and Edward had left to talk to the security detail, but he hadn’t really said much, had just made sure she was okay before he’d taken off himself—to the meeting with the rest of his family she’d assumed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone more curious than sharp at finding him in her personal space.
“I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“What about?”
“What you told Philippe the other day?”
She’d expected as much.
Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. “I’m tired.”
His eyes softened. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”
She lifted her chin. “How can I not? Your stupid parliament is being stubborn.”
Edward had given her proposal to the Environmental Agency, but they had declared her report far too sketchy to be trusted.
Sketchy.
The fucking nerve!
As a result, whether she wanted to or not, if she wanted to protect her professional name, she had to stay here.
Oh, the irony.
She’d declared to the King himself that she was in a relationship with his son to stay here, when she’d have had to remain in Veronia period.
Was that irony or just fate working its bizarre hand?
She headed for the sofa and slumped into it. It wasn’t comfortable. At all. In fact, she wouldn’t have been surprised if behind the cushions, there’d been horsehair or some shit like that too.
A notion that didn’t exactly please her, but it wasn’t like Barcaloungers would fit in with the whole regal-ness of the room.
Wishing like hell they did, and that there was one, she curled her feet underneath her and said, “Sit. You look as tired as me.”
“I’ve not been sleeping,” he admitted. “In the middle of an experiment, you know how things are.”
Because she did, her lips curved. “It’s different though. That’s a kind of nervous excitement…”
He grinned back. “Yeah.” Taking a seat on the sofa opposite her, he murmured, “So far, my hypothesis is standing strong. A few more tweaks and the pesticide I’m working on will be ready for testing on a larger plot of land than what I’ve been working with. I need to increase the variables to see how functional it is.”
She nodded; he’d discussed his new ideas for organic pesticides. Ways and means of combatting the bugs that could destroy whole crops without wrecking the nutritional value of the fruit or vegetable the chemicals were supposed to be protecting, but also, without leaching ‘goodness’ from the soil.
“I’ll have to take you to my greenhouse one day,” he told her, his voice strumming with excitement. “You’d love it in there. A little piece of heaven amid the chaos that is this castle.”
Because she understood what he meant, she let out a sigh. This place was calm to the point of weird. It was peaceful and strict with it. But though there was a bizarre façade of gentility, to her, and to him as well it seemed, there was a chaos to it.
A kind of madness that she was relieved to know didn’t just affect her.
“That would be really nice,” she told him, and meant it. Leaning her head back against the high back of the seat—the only good thing about the damn piece of furniture—she asked, “Hit me with it, Xavier. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
He blinked, and his lips twitched into a half-smile. “I do like you, Perry.”
Surprised, she stiffened in her seat. Whatever she’d expected him to say, it hadn’t been that.
“I like you too, Xavier,” she replied cautiously. “I-I’m sorry about the other day.”
They’d not spoken of seeing each other since that one night together, but she felt it had been cruel of her to make such a declaration in front of him.
He held up a hand. “I understand why you did it.”
She bit her lip. “You do? That’s weird because I don’t. Not really.
“Before the King arrived, we were just saying that we were going to try this… thing—” She cleared her throat. “—out. And then, Philippe barges in, tells us about the threats and…” She jerked a shoulder.
“The rest, as they say, is history.” His lips quirked in a rueful smile.
“Yes.” She blinked at him.
“Do you think you made a mistake?”
“Why? Do you?”
“No. Not really. I’m just curious about what you think.”
A sigh escaped her, and it was curiously liberating to be talking about this with someone who knew the full story. Who didn’t judge. Who, not necessarily understood, but didn’t think it was completely outlandish and nuts.
“Do you know what’s strange?”
He blinked. “What?”
“That the only one of the DeSauviers I’ve slept with, is you.”
“That’s because you’ve got great taste,” he joked, and she huffed out a laugh.
Raising a hand, she rubbed at her temple. “Before Philippe came, Edward was telling me how eventually, George would have to come home.”
Xavier nodded. “Yes. He was always on borrowed time in the States. I’m surprised he wasn’t called back sooner. After Arabella died, to be truthful. I know Aunt Marianne and Uncle Philippe had to work hard to curry favor. A lot of people in the government wanted him back here and working for the country.”
She tilted her head to the side. “How? In what position?”
“Probably what he does now, but for Veronia.” He shrugged. “He was fortunate he got to stay away as long as he did.”
She lifted a hand and began to tug at her bottom lip. “Do you think I’m strange for hemming and hawing over this?”
He reared back. “No. Why would I?”
“They’re princes. They’re gorgeous. They’re rich. They’re kind and polite and have table manners. I should be humping their legs in gratitude for picking me. Shouldn’t I?”
He grunted. “The reason they picked you, as you so elegantly phrased it, is because you’re not like the others. You’re not like most of the court’s ladies who would literally swoon if they thought they had the chance to ensnare one of them into their beds.”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” His smile was grim. “They’re animals. In their own polite way, of course.” When she stared at him, goggle-eyed, he explained, “You haven’t been to enough events to understand.”
“Thank God for that. I’ve managed to avoid most of the ones that have been going on since I arrived here.”
He pulled a face. “You know that will have to change now, don’t you? If Edward attends, and he usually does, you have to make an appearance.”
She blew out a shaky breath—that was a conclusion she
’d come to herself. Hence the sweats and sloggy T-shirt. She really needed the comfort of home before the insanity truly struck and she was trapped in the maelstrom.
Pressing her elbow into the sofa’s armrest, she propped her head on her hand and murmured, “I want them, Xavier.”
His eyes were calm, free from turbulence. “I know.”
“I want you too.” The words weren’t torn from her, but they were a rough admission regardless.
There was a reason she’d slept with him when she never engaged in one-night stands.
There was a reason she found it easy to talk to him when she could count on one hand the number of friends she had in the world. Most of whom she couldn’t talk so freely with.
“I want you too, Perry.”
There was a calmness to his words that had her frowning. “Was I mad to do what I did?” She felt like it was mad now she’d done it. But the prospect of having to return to the States without George was something she couldn’t abide.
The prospect of leaving Edward behind while he dealt with this situation with the UnReals, was something she couldn’t abide.
The prospect of cutting and running on Xavier, of not hearing from him again or discussing one of his experiments, was something she couldn’t abide.
There was a whole lot of ‘not abiding’ going on, but it was how she felt. There was no evading it.
“This is crazy,” she whispered, as she’d been whispering of late.
“It doesn’t have to be.”
His simple retort had her eyes widening. She got to her feet and began to stride. From one end of the room to the other, she walked. And it felt good, felt right to burn off some of the energy.
“Next weekend, we should go to my estate in Lauverne.”
“Where’s that?” she asked, turning to look at him as she carried on loping from one side of the room to the other.
“In the South. It’s on the sea front, and you can swim and relax. Get some sun.”
“I’m not the kind of woman who sunbathes, Xavier,” she pointed out, disappointed he hadn’t realized that.
But he snorted. “I meant while you worked. There’s a nice verandah that overlooks the Mediterranean. You can work on whatever hoops the government want you to jump through, sit in the warmth without being cooped up in this mausoleum, and then go in the sea. It’s still warm enough to swim.”
She bit her lip at the idea; it sounded like heaven to her. She hadn’t swum in an age, and getting out of the palace was exactly what she needed.
“I already told George and Edward,” he said calmly. “They told me if you want to go, then we’ll all go.”
“All three of us?” she asked, eyes widening at the ease in his tone.
“Yes.” He caught her eye, and the look they shared had her swallowing in response.
For a second, she froze, then her mouth worked. “All three of us,” she repeated, this time even she wasn’t sure if she was asking him or making a statement.
He nodded. “All three of us.”
Her hand flew to her throat as her brain processed exactly what he was telling her with that one comment, but her body came to her aid.
She knew what he was saying… knew it, and couldn’t be scared of it. She did want him. She did want them.
And it seemed they were willing to let her have her way. Even if that way wasn’t something she’d consciously thought about.
Until now.
She couldn’t cut the image out of her damn mind.
“As for tomorrow, I want you to come to my estate here in the city.”
Her eyes widened as she processed the offer of two… what? Dates?
“Why?”
He grinned, reached for her. As he looped his hands around her waist, he hauled her toward him. A whoosh of air escaped her as she collided with him. “Does there have to be a reason?”
She blinked up at him as a smile curved her lips. He leaned down, his head moving toward hers, his gaze intent on her mouth as she whispered, “No. You’re right. There doesn’t have to be a reason.”
Chapter Eighteen
A knock sounding at his door dragged George from the book he was reading. It wasn’t the sharp, yet gentle, knock of a member of staff who needed to get his attention but didn’t want to irritate him at the same time.
It was brisk and demanding.
Perry.
He grinned, rolled off the bed, and strode toward the door. Opening it, he was about to greet her, but he saw the hectic flush on her face and stayed his mouth.
He stepped back when she strode forward, and as she slammed his door, she leapt at him.
The move stunned the shit out of him, and he had no choice but to catch her.
“What the…”
He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Her mouth was on his before he could take his next breath, and then, her tongue was between his lips.
The kiss was nothing like he’d imagined the first melding of their mouths.
This was primal. Raw. Desperate.
The emotions battered him, and he didn’t understand them. Didn’t understand why she felt that way, but his love for her demanded that he make it better.
That he take away the unease, the uncertainty, and replace it with something that would never change—his adoration of her.
He let their tongues whisper across the other, let her bite into his bottom lip, fucking his mouth as she held his cheeks between her hands. She switched between aggressive tongue fucks and gentle love play that had his heart beating like a drum.
Her hips began to rock, and though he knew he had a hard-on, had had one since she’d stepped into his room wearing nothing but one of the peignoirs he’d bought her and, he assumed, some lingerie beneath. But she realized it now, and used her position atop him, to drag her core down his length.
A whimper escaped her, and it turned into a low mewl as her desire caught up with her.
She kept herself attached to him with the strong thighs she had glued to his hips, so he kept a hand on her ass to steady her, while moving the other up to her hair to drag it out of the way of her throat.
He used his grip on her hair to tug her head back, and the minute their lips were separated, he dove for her.
His lips plied the tender flesh, sucking and slurping in a way that would have her cursing him in the morning. He intended to mark her. Intended for her to know who she was and what she was—his.
Just because he wanted to share her with his brother didn’t diminish that.
She was his. As she was theirs too.
But the bond was unique, strengthened only because their connection was a force to be reckoned with. Empowered by years of friendship, years that had been leading to this moment.
He’d always imagined the first time to be gentle. A tender seduction. In fact, he’d been nervous of how to broach it. Though he’d been hard as nails for her for years, and though she’d opened herself up to the idea of being shared, he’d been scared to approach her.
Scared because he hadn’t wanted her to reject him. But Perry being Perry had decided to take control of things on her own. He loved that about her.
Loved that she was so strong, so self-assured in some things, then so vulnerable in others.
He knew her too well. Knew this wasn’t born out of the confidence she had for her work, but out of her vulnerability.
She was scared and she needed to take charge to combat that fear.
That meant she had to seduce him. Prove to herself that she was enough for him.
As if she could ever be less.
Her knees tightened about his hips as she began to rock her own. The drag of her pelvis against his shaft was more than he could stand, and he nipped at her throat and bit off, “Fucking behave, Perry.”
A throaty laugh escaped her, and he reveled in the sound—it meant she was calming down. She ignored him, of course, instead, carried on. Only, she moved slower, taunted him and teased herself as punishment for h
is command.
He bit down hard on her shoulder, enough to make her hiss. But she didn’t chide him, only grabbed a hold of his head, ran her fingers through his hair, then forced his lips back to hers.
“Fuck me,” she demanded, her tone almost angry, but it wasn’t born in rage. Just in fire.
Their passion was off the charts, as he’d always known it would be, but the proof that he was right was almost enough to make him weep.
With a groan, he let her bite his bottom lip then staggered over to the bed where he carefully seated himself.
“You want to fuck me?” he gritted out against her lips. “Then fuck me.”
She moaned, and he loved the tender sound as it whispered across his mouth. She delved between them, parting the folds of the peignoir to reveal her body—her naked body. A body he’d dreamed about for fucking years. A buxom form he was astonished to find free from lingerie and all the more enticing for it.
She was perfect. Ripe with curves, slender where it counted. He loved the marks on her breasts, their jiggle, and the fleshiness of her hips. She was real, she was beautiful. She was his.
He grabbed her waist to steady her as she reached between them again, this time aiming lower. Her hand moved beneath his waistband, and his pajamas were loose enough that she could easily grab his cock without strangling the crown jewels in the elastic.
When she held him, he closed his eyes and let out a slow, long breath that was more of a hiss than anything else.
Her hand shaped him, carefully at first. And with each stroke, he felt like grunting.
His head tipped forward against hers, their foreheads touching as their breaths mingled—surging the intensity between them to heights he’d never known before.
She whispered, “This belongs to me,” as she jerked her hand upwards, his cock tight in her first.
His grin was quick. Sly. And his hand was too. It slid between her parted thighs and didn’t stop until his thumb was notched in her gate.
“And this is mine,” he retorted, watching the passion glaze her eyes as he fucked her with his thumb.
For a second, they were immobile, and then he nudged her clit with the back of his hand and she arched up, almost tumbling off his lap.
Perry and Her Princes (Kingdom of Veronia Book 1) Page 19
