by Tia Louise
Holding my lips just above her clit, I allow my breath to warm her body. I lightly brush my lips along the crease at the top of her thigh.
She squirms and sighs. “Rowan…”
I love driving her crazy. I love keeping her happy. I want nothing more than Ava Wilder-Tate saying my name in that exact note of need and eagerness every time.
My erection aches, and I can’t torture us anymore. Lowering my mouth, I wrap my arms around her thighs and get to work. My tongue assaults her clit, circling and sucking as her cries of ecstasy surround us. Her hips jerk, and I move lower, dipping my tongue into her core, fucking her with my mouth.
Her back arches, and her fingers thread into my hair. I taste her arousal mixed with lavender. She’s so mine. I’ve known from our first time together. What we have is pure and perfect.
“Oh!” she cries, and her legs jump. She’s breaking apart, coming on my mouth, and I suck her off, taking her all the way before I release her.
She moans, clutching my hair, and I kiss her flat stomach. I circle my tongue around one nipple then the other before moving higher to claim her mouth again. Her arms surround me as I plunge deep into her clenching insides.
“Ava… yes,” I hiss as my cock is surround by her swollen, wet heat. I rock slowly at first, following the wave of her orgasm. “Jesus, you feel so good.”
My voice is hoarse against her neck. As my own orgasm begins to crest, I move faster. Her long legs are around my waist, and her hips rock. Heat travels through my thighs into my pelvis, and my eyes squeeze shut.
“Oh, fuck.” I can’t think. She’s holding me, surrounding me as I chase that explosive finale.
Sweat follows a line down my cheek, and I pump harder, pleasure driving me. My stomach tightens. I’m lost to it. I’m lost in her. She leans forward to run her tongue along my neck, and I come apart. Groaning, I fill her as pleasure consumes me. My stomach tremors. It’s so fucking good.
It takes me a moment to come down, but when I do, her hands are tracing the lines of my muscles, of my back, down my arms. She’s still kissing me, and I laughingly groan. It’s so amazing to leave this planet and return to find this amazing creature still lavishing me with affection.
“Ava,” I whisper. I can’t think of what I want to say.
Our eyes meet, and she smiles, again reading my thoughts. “Passionate preference,” she says.
I smile, dropping to lie beside her in the bed. My arms surround her, and I pull her to me. “Frost brought us together.”
“I was reciting ‘Accidentally on Purpose.’”
The words drift through my mind:
Our best guide upward further to the light; Passionate preference such as love at first sight.
“Whoever loved that loved not at first sight?” she says softly.
“Shakespeare.” I lean down to kiss her shoulder. “Although, in fairness, I think I was more in lust at first sight. The longer I was around you, the more I couldn’t let you go.”
“I couldn’t imagine returning to America,” she sighs, relaxing in my embrace. “You had become my world—just like one of those old poems. Or you were my brooding Mr. Darcy?”
“I was never too proud for you.” I trace my lips over the smooth skin of her shoulder. Tiny bumps follow in their wake.
“I would read those old stories and dream of a handsome prince rescuing us.”
Propping on my elbows, I look down at her beautiful face. “How old were you?”
“Too old for silly dreams,” she sighs. “When it would rain, Zelda and I had to find places to escape. She would go to the pool halls and learn cards and hustling. I would go to the library and read every book I could find.”
“Because you have no poker face,” I tease, nipping the curve of her breast.
Her fingers curl into my hair, and she lets out a little yelp. “It’s true,” she laughs. “I have no poker face. You would’ve known everything I was dreaming.”
“I want to know everything you dream.”
She trails her finger from my cheeks over my lips, and I watch as her eyes follow their movements. “I’d be selfish to want more than this.”
“Even so…” Pushing out my lips, I kiss her digit. “I want to know if you do.”
“I do want to thank you.”
“What for?”
Her finger moves to my cheek again. “Freddie helped me so much. I have really great leads for placing four of the orphans. I’ll share them with my team, and… What’s wrong?” She touches my brow, which I feel is lowered.
“Reggie said something today…” My jaw clenches. I’m furious at the council members criticizing Ava for her soft heart, her generosity.
Her voice cuts through the storm in my mind. “You’re really mad,” she says softly.
Leaning down, I kiss her shoulder. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. I’ll handle it.”
“Rowan…” She squirms beneath me, and I move to the side, allowing her to sit up in the bed. She pulls the robe around her body. “Tell me. Please.”
I exhale deeply. How can I say no to that?
“At some point, behind my back, the council discussed your work with the refugee children.” I can’t hide my frustration. “Since you’re the queen regent… They think your involvement puts us at risk.”
“But they’re practically babies!”
I sit up in the bed beside her, reaching a hand toward her soft lips. “I know how important this is to you. I know why it’s important to you. Don’t stop what you’re doing.”
Pink fills her cheeks, and she drops her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw everything up or embarrass you. I thought it was my job as queen regent…”
“It is your job to be charitable.” Reaching over, I gather her in my arms and pull her onto my lap in a straddle facing me. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and let me handle Reggie and the council.”
“I can’t believe Reggie would criticize me helping children.” She’s angry and adorable, and my earlier thoughts come to mind.
“There’s another part of our job as king and queen we’ve been neglecting.”
Sapphire-green eyes capture mine, and her slim brows pull together. “What else could they possibly—”
“Heirs.” Her expression goes from adorably furious to surprised in a blink. I can’t help laughing. “It’s time I did my kingly duty and knocked you up.”
“Rowan!” She sits back and looks around the room. She looks down at her lap. “I…” Her voice trails off, and her cheeks flush deeper. Could I possibly love her more?
In a dive, her arms are around my neck. She kisses my lips, my cheek. She hugs me before sitting back again, smiling and blinking fast. “You want to have a baby?” A hiccupped breath. “With me?”
“Are you crying?”
“No!” She touches her eyes. “Maybe. Just a little… Only because I’m so happy. I can’t imagine… I guess I should stop taking my pills.”
“I’ll ask Dr. Klein to stop by tomorrow.”
She cups my cheeks and kisses me. Her lips are soft, and I push them apart to find her tongue. Heat flares between us again, and I kiss the side of her jaw. “This part will be fun.”
My lips move down her neck to her breasts, and she laughs, her fingers moving through my hair. “We’ll have to try different times of the day. No telling when I’m most fertile.”
“It’s getting better every minute.” Her back arches up, and I return to her lips as I sink once more into her depths.
Her legs circle my waist as our mouths chase each other’s. We’re lost in a haze of passionate preference and love and creation.
Chapter 4
Ava
Freddie sits beside me in front of the laptop as I spin a little white lie. “I mostly want to be sure the camps where they’ll be staying are clean and spacious.”
His lips curve into a frown. “I’m afraid most of these camps are pretty primitive. Refugees bring nothing but strain on the host coun
tries. As such, they’re at the mercy of charitable organizations.”
I think of Rowan’s comment about the council, and I can’t help being defensive. “Do you think I’m wrong to be helping these children?”
“Of course not!” He sits back quickly. “I told you. We’re proud of what you’re doing. I think Reggie is wrong.”
“Why are they so afraid, Freddie?” It’s times like these when my lack of education feels like a real handicap. “I was an orphan,” I add softly.
My instincts are motivated by my personal experience and my heart, but I’m sure Reggie and the men working with my husband, smart men with years of experience, must have a reason to be angry about what I’m doing.
“Don’t worry about them. Rowan is handling the council. Just keep doing what you do.” His focus is back on the screen, and he smiles. “There. See what I did?”
On the screen is a clear image of a sea of white tents. It’s a satellite image of the Swedish camp.
“Show me again.” I scoot closer in my chair.
It only takes a few moments for Freddie to walk me through surveillance, and again, he takes his leave. Again, I tiptoe to the door and close it. I know the bit of surveillance I’m about to do falls into the grey zone of privacy, but I want to see them. I need to know how they are, what their lives are like now.
Maybe I feel guilty I’ve done so well, and I want to know they’re thriving in some way. It might not be the best justification, but it’s not like I can go in person and see them. I’m a magnet for publicity and paparazzi. It would humiliate them if my reasons for visiting came out.
Anyway, they don’t even know me. I don’t know them. It’s not like we’re friends or like we’ve ever even had a conversation. Our only connection is this shared past. We’re all pictures in Dwayne Vega’s special wallet.
My excuses firmly in place, I start with Grace. I enter her London address and wait as the screen flickers and changes.
I’m above a long, red-brick building. It’s a series of old Victorian residences that have been converted to rentals. A small park is across the street, and it’s all so quaint and lovely. I can’t imagine what Grace must do now to afford to live here. It makes me happy that she’s doing so well.
Moving the visual, I try to figure out which door is hers. I sweep to the right, going up the row until I find it. My heart beats faster, and I lean closer to the screen.
“That’s silly, Ava,” I mutter. “It’s a computer screen, not a window.”
Opening another browser, I follow the same steps for Ramona. Then I do it again for Emily, until I have all three women’s addresses up on the laptop. The windows are tiny so I can see them all at once. I’m hoping someone will go out or return home, and I can catch a glimpse…
Ramona’s place in Florida interests me most. Zelda and I lived almost a year in Ft. Lauderdale, and we often went into Miami. I enlarge her window and move the target down the street in the direction of her apartment.
The area is run-down, and people wander the sidewalks. Guilt squeezes my chest. It doesn’t look like Ramona has done as well as the others.
For several minutes I sit watching the street like it’s some kind of personal reality television show. An old woman in multiple layers of clothes makes her way from garbage can to garbage can. She stops at one and lifts out an item I don’t recognize. It looks like a sock or a boot. Just as quickly, she tosses it back.
Studying her body, the hunch in her shoulder and her bent arm, I see she’s cradling something to her chest. My stomach sinks, and I think it might be a baby… until she lifts it to her mouth. It’s a bottle.
My mind drifts to when Zelda and I lived in similar circumstances. Hell, it was worse than that. At least Ramona has an apartment. Even if vagrants and alcoholics line the street, she has somewhere to go when it rains.
Once Zelda met Seth, and he taught her how to count cards and run short cons, we started having enough money to stay in cheap motels. If someone had sent us five thousand dollars… I try to imagine how our lives would have changed.
At that moment, a younger woman with dark hair appears on the screen. She’s small, and she’s moving quickly in the direction of an apartment.
“Ramona?” I jump forward in my chair and move the target to try and zoom in closer.
My nose is almost touching with the screen when the door flies open. I squeal, scrambling to grab the mouse. Clicking as fast as possible, I shut down the final window as Rowan enters the room.
“Dr. Klein is… here.” He studies my expression a moment. “Are you okay?”
My heart is flying, and I feel sick. I can’t tell Rowan what I’m doing. He’ll be furious. I think…?
“Yes,” I manage to say. Clearing my throat, I try again. “Sorry. Freddie showed me how to look up the refugee camps. I… I guess I was surprised by what I saw there. They’re pretty run-down.”
His brow lines, and he crosses to me, pulling me into his embrace. “I’m sorry, love. There’s nothing we can do about that side of the equation, I’m afraid.”
Holding his strong arms, I breathe deeply to calm myself. My reaction is silly, after all. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong.
“You’re right.” Lifting onto my toes, I kiss his cheek. “Dr. Klein is here?”
That makes him smile. “I have her word she won’t tell anyone. Especially not my mother.”
My laugh is a little too loose. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“I’ve lived with my mother longer than you have.”
He doesn’t seem to notice my shaky nerves. Or if he does, he probably thinks I’m jittery about the appointment, which I suppose I am. I’m like a prize mare being checked out to make sure I’ll breed properly.
Rowan says it’s as much about both of us, our physical compatibility, but somehow it feels more like I’m the one being inspected. After all, they’re stuck with him.
“Your mother spends all her time at Bèuluec sur Mer now,” I say, trying to cover. It’s true. The Queen relocated to the luxurious spa-village in the south of France a few months after our wedding.
“Trust me.” His large hand covers mine. “If she knew what we were up to, she’d be at the palace by nightfall.”
“That seems a bit premature.”
“We’re talking about the future king or queen of Monagasco. Let’s keep this time for us.”
My hand is in Rowan’s as we approach the room where Dr. Klein is waiting. “Come back to our room when you’re finished.”
I give him a nervous glance. “And to think, regular people just get drunk and screw.”
“We can do that, too,” he says, leaning forward to give my ear a hot kiss.
“And mess up the royal baby?” I pretend to be horrified. “Mon dieu!”
“Your French is terrible.”
I cut my eyes at him and push through the door.
* * *
Dr. Klein gives me an extensive interview. She takes blood. It hasn’t been very long since my last physical exam, so we’re able to skip that part. Still, she makes me pee in a cup, and she tells me about all the genetic testing they’ll be doing. They’ll be looking for every possible abnormality or problem in the book. It’s almost enough to kill the fun of the entire process. (Almost.) Finally, by the end, she holds my hand and grows very serious.
“It is a lot of pressure, majesté.” Her French accent thickens. “If you are feeling overwhelmed, it is only normal. Yes?”
“Will my head be cut off if my baby’s the wrong gender?” I tease.
Dr. Klein’s laugh makes me think of a flute. “Of course not!” She leans forward and arches an eyebrow. “Today we know it is the men who choose the sex of the child.”
“They do? That hardly seems fair…”
“Oui, and we have history to show us how powerful queens can be.” She pats my hand. “Just relax. Making babies is fun, yes?”
“Yes, of course,” I say, surprised they acknowledge fun in
the midst of all this science. “I’m very excited about the baby. I want a family with Rowan very much!”
That makes her smile. “We’ll have these test results back tomorrow. You seem very healthy. I think everything will be fine, and you can stop taking your pills.”
Leaning forward, I whisper, “I stopped taking them last night.”
“Then I will check to see if you are already lucky.”
She stands and heads to the door. I wait until she’s gone before making my way back to our room. We have the entire second floor to ourselves. It’s private, secluded. The palace is heavily guarded, but I never feel like I’m being watched. I feel like we can be naughty, work on starting our family whenever the mood strikes, and when I enter the sitting area, my husband is waiting on the balcony overlooking the sea.
He turns at the noise of the door closing, and I see his shirt is unbuttoned. The lowering sun casts deep shadows across the lines on his chest, the six-pack of his abs, the deep V leading into his black dress pants. Salt breezes push his dark hair forward around his temples, and my breath catches. Everything is forgotten at the sight of this gorgeous man. My sexy husband. My possessive king.
The mood has struck.
“Are you waiting for me?” I wonder if he can hear the desire in my voice.
“Yes.” Dark blue eyes burn into mine as he closes the distance between us, and slippery wetness is between my thighs. “I was thinking about you having my baby, your body changing. We’ll have to get creative with positions.”
His hand covers my stomach in a fiery touch. I want him so much my voice is breathless. “You’ll have to get me pregnant first.”
Our eyes clash, and he grasps my cheeks in a firm grip before taking my mouth with his. It’s a raw and hungry kiss, and I whimper, chasing his tongue with mine.
He turns me roughly. My hands brace the wall, and excitement flares in my blood. I exhale a moan as he rips my skirt up, fingers searching between my thighs, grasping for my thong. That tiny scrap of material is quickly torn away.
