Ripple (Persy & Sully) (Seaside Valleria #2)

by Marianne Knightly

  Unable to resist, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the spot, and her body tensed. He put his hands on the bed beside her, not touching her but fencing her in all the same.

  His voice was a whisper, but he knew she heard it from the way her body stiffened. “You’re right. Maybe I don’t know everything there is inside you, Persy. Maybe all I know is the sweet way you come in my arms, and the strength you use to hide all the soft you have underneath. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to know more. I’ve decided we’re done with this superficial bullshit.”

  She turned around, her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just like I said. We’re done being just fuck buddies. You’re mine now. You don’t go out with other men.”

  She sat up, still clutching the sheet over her breasts. “Are you insane? I’m not a goddamn possession.”

  He leaned forward, his face hard. “Yes, you are. You’re mine.”

  “You’re nuts. Get out. We’re done.”

  His face shifted from hard to even, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re adorable when you’re pissed off, have I told you that?”

  Her mouth fell open in mute shock. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’ve decided we’ve changed.”

  “You can’t just decide that. I didn’t agree with that.”

  She went still when he kissed her bare shoulder but didn’t hit him—progress in his book. “You will.”

  “Sully!”

  He moved away from the bed and dealt with both condoms while she continued to rant against him. As he got dressed, he remembered the napkin.

  He walked over to her discarded pants and pulled out the napkin. He crushed it in his hands as the anger bubbled once more. He spied a box of matches in her bookshelf next to a scented candle, picked them up, and walked to her kitchen sink, which was easily visible from the bed.

  “What are you doing?”

  He lit a match and glanced over his shoulder. She was on her knees in bed, the sheet still covering her.

  He lifted up the napkin and heard her gasp as it caught fire. He dropped it in the sink and watched until it was a pile of ashes.

  “You’re done with keeping other guys’ numbers, too.”

  “You had no right.”

  She had one finger pointed at him and it just made him more irritated.

  “You had no right. At. All. We’re nothing. We fuck. That’s it. You do not get to decide who I sleep with, or don’t sleep with. Is that what all this macho shit is about? You think you own me because you’ve been inside me? Well, get a clue, Sully. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

  Oh, hell fucking no.

  He strode over to her and pulled her into his arms. She pushed against him as he kissed her. He yanked the sheet away and continued kissing her. When she finally began to yield, he laid her back on the bed, covering her nude body with his clothed one.

  He pulled back and rested his forehead on hers. Her breath was staggered, and he could sense she was close to pushing him away again. Before she did, they were going to get a few things straight.

  “We were fuck buddies, Persy. I want more. I’m possessive, honey, but I’ll never treat you like a possession. There’s a difference. I’ll treat you like gold, because you deserve it. I already do, and you know it. I’ve never pushed before this, but that was because I didn’t realize everything I had in you.”

  She turned her head away, and he tilted it back.

  “Tonight, you took that guy’s number, honey, and I realized you were pulling away, getting ready to leave me behind for another fuck. And I realized, you’re not just a fuck to me. You’re all I’ve been thinking about. I haven’t fucked another woman since we first got together, and I haven’t wanted to.”

  He brushed back some of her soft hair. “I know you’re not ready for more. Even if you’re not ready to give me everything, know that I’m going to give it to you. I’ll take what you give me, whenever you give it, at least until you get used to us, because we are an ‘us’ now.”

  Her eyes had shut and she didn’t move. He brushed his lips against hers and slid off her body. “See you tomorrow, Persy.”

  With a last look, he left but couldn’t help thinking his place was with her.

  Persy listened until she heard the front door shut and remained still for several minutes in case he came back.

  He didn’t.

  She didn’t want him to return. Yet, at the same time, she wished he would. What did that mean?

  She turned to lie on her side and sighed. She still felt the ache of having him inside her; it was an ache she loved, an ache she craved.

  She never thought she’d crave a man again. She never thought she’d crave again at all, to be honest.

  She’d felt dead inside for far too long to believe she’d feel anything this strong again.

  She curled up and hugged the pillow. His head hadn’t lain on it, but it smelled like him just the same: strong, musky, and male, mixed with something else.

  Home.

  He smelled of Ireland. It was silly, she knew. A man couldn’t smell like a country, but he did. When she got near him, she felt the lilt of his voice in her bones and smelled the hills after a rain. Even the Seashell reminded her of the pub she’d worked at in Dublin. Though, it must be said, an Irish pub was like no other pub in the world.

  Everything reminded her of Ireland.

  She almost wanted to go home.

  Almost.

  She swore she’d never return, not after what happened. How could she? How could she face what she’d lost, and the family that chose duty over her own grief? She’d made a choice to cut all ties, and she hadn’t gone back.

  Though her mind tended to look back often enough.

  She curled tighter around the pillow and took a deep breath. Sully wanted more. What did that mean? Why now? Wasn’t he was going back to Ireland soon? Did he think because she was Irish, she’d go back with him and become what, the dutiful Irish wife?

  She’d tried that before and she’d failed. Her ex-husband had certainly made that clear.

  She wouldn’t try marriage again, and she was never living in Ireland again, either. No fucking way. Maybe she’d visit—maybe being the operative word—if she could ever stop grieving.

  She doubted that would happen.

  I’m possessive, honey, but I’ll never treat you like a possession.

  God, she’d missed that. Not all Irish guys were possessive lunatics like Sully but, since her husband, she certainly had a type and that was it. Only she would find an Irish guy in Valleria who was like that. Though he hadn’t been particularly possessive until that night.

  Until she’d gotten that phone number.

  The guy at the pub had been younger than her and she’d been flattered. It wasn’t often a woman in her mid-thirties got to be flattered, even if she had a regular fuck buddy. She hadn’t even decided if she was going to call the guy, but now that wasn’t an option.

  God, what was she doing, finding Sully’s possessiveness hot? How could she handle keeping her distance when he was pressuring her to let him close—and some part of her obviously wanted it?

  In all her time since leaving Ireland, she’d never let anyone close emotionally until she came to Masillia. Meeting Millie and becoming real friends with her, at a time when she really needed a friend after losing her job and place to live, she thought maybe she could finally settle here in Masillia.

  Should she pack up and move again? Find a new place and new people that wouldn’t be as demanding? How many new starts could a person make in life? Just the thought of starting over, yet again, exhausted her.

  Not to mention, she would miss Millie. And Hector. And the sea.

  And maybe also Sully.

  She sighed again, and her long shift at work and her long night with Sully caught up with her. Her thoughts eventually faded, and she fell asleep wishing Sully had stayed, and glad that he hadn’t.

 
Chapter Two

  “Here ya go, Millie.” Persy put down a plate of food on Millie’s table. She’d been sitting in a booth working on updating her online sales sites with more products.

  Millie positioned her laptop to the side. “Thanks, Persy. What is this?”

  “Frannie’s latest phase.” The pub’s chef, Frannie—or, as she currently preferred to be called, Jasmine—went through a lot of phases. “She’s on a vegetarian kick right now, and this is a veggie version of shepherd’s pie.”

  Millie frowned. “I love veggie meals like this, but I don’t know if our customers will. Masillians tend to prefer meat or at least seafood in their dishes.”

  Persy propped an arm on top of the booth seat opposite Millie, taking a moment to relax. “Well, Frannie has decided that she—as ‘Jasmine’ of course—should try to help our customers eat healthier.”

  “She’s still Jasmine this week? I haven’t had a chance to talk to her.”

  “Jasmine for the foreseeable future, it looks like.”

  “Think this name will stick?”

  Persy shrugged. “I doubt it, but there’s always hope. Her hair is streaked orange this week, and that’s the first time I’ve seen her repeat a color. Maybe she’s settling down.”

  “Who says she needs to settle down?”

  Who indeed? “That’s true enough. I’m going to make the rounds. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Actually, could you sit for a minute?”

  She wondered if something was going on with Millie. It was odd being someone’s friend again after so long of being on her own. She reminded herself that friends made time for one another.

  She glanced around, and confirmed that her current customers were fine and it wasn’t that busy. “Let me just tell Daley I’m taking a break.”

  After letting Daley—the only bartender on duty—know she was taking a quick five, she slid into the booth opposite Millie. “What’s going on?”

  “I just wanted to ask…”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay? You seem distracted today.”

  She pursed her lips. So, this wasn’t a conversation about Millie, it was about her instead. Well, she did want to tell someone what had happened between her and Sully—needed to, if she were honest with herself—but not then. “I’ll be all right.”

  Millie’s voice was soft, her eyes worried behind her kickass purple glasses. “That’s not what I asked.”

  “After work, okay?”

  Millie nodded. “What time you off?”

  Persy slid out of the booth and shifted to stand near Millie’s side. “I’m just working through lunch, maybe another hour. Do you and Hector have plans tonight?”

  Millie shook her head and unwrapped her silverware. “He’s closing again, which means we can hang out at our place.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Persy caught sight of a sliver of light coming from the pub’s vestibule entrance as someone opened the door. She turned to greet them and stuttered at the sight of royalty and Royal Protection Service agents following close behind. “Oh no.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She just kept staring.

  Two princes were headed their way, one of them holding a little six-year-old girl, while the agents positioned themselves near the door.

  Millie spoke, though her voice sounded far away. “Oh, that’s just Prince Lorenzo and his older brother Prince Alexander. Oh, shoot. I’m sitting in his reserved booth. I thought it’d be okay since I heard he was out of town. Can you take my food to another table? Or to the office?”

  She didn’t move. She couldn’t take her eyes off the little girl.

  “Persy?” Millie waved a hand in front of her face. “You all right?”

  She broke out of her trance. “Can you serve them? I just can’t handle them today.” That was partially a lie; she had trouble dealing with children, not necessarily the princes.

  Millie squeezed her arm. Hector and Millie knew part of her story and understood. “Of course, but are you working the lunch shift alone?”

  She stepped back to give Millie room to step out of the booth. “Yes. Liz’s useless boyfriend is sick and needs her to wait on him hand and foot, and Beth had something going on she couldn’t skip.” The identical twin sisters also had identical names to match—Elizabeth—so, they split the name to make it less confusing. “I’ll be back out in a few minutes, I promise. I—”

  But it was too late. The princes had arrived at their table.

  As soon as they did, the little girl jumped from the prince’s arms into Millie’s.

  “Millie! Guess. What?” Princess Liliana, Prince Lorenzo’s daughter who was his spitting image in little girl form, smacked her hands against Millie’s shoulders with each word.

  Millie laughed. “What?”

  “I have the cutest cousin in the world!”

  “Is that so?” Millie turned to the princes and executed a flawless curtsy, even with Liliana in her arms.

  Persy followed suit with a clumsier curtsy. She wouldn’t have bothered if it had only been Prince Lorenzo—he himself had told them not to bother with formality when he was around—but Prince Alexander was the future king.

  Persy began to clear away Millie’s things. “We’ll have your table ready in a moment, Your Highnesses.”

  Lorenzo gave them his killer smile. “Don’t worry about it, Persy. We can grab another booth.”

  Despite their easy charm and hot-as-hell looks—complete with dark hair and toned bodies—they were devoted to the women in lives. Prince Alexander was married to Rebecca, once a commoner and now the future queen. Prince Lorenzo was engaged to Liliana’s mother Cecilia, whom he called Lily.

  Since Prince Lorenzo lived in Masillia and the royal castle was close by, he and his family often stopped by the pub. The prince was also great friends with Hector, as they’d served together in the army, and it was no surprise when he scanned the pub for him. “Hector around?”

  Millie hitched Liliana up on her hip. “He’s running a few errands but should be back soon. I can let him know you’re here.”

  “Thanks, Millie. Tell him there’s no rush. Come on, Liliana.” Prince Lorenzo reached for her.

  “No! I hafta tell Millie ‘bout Eloise-y.”

  Prince Alexander gave her an indulgent smile. “It’s Eloisa, darling girl.”

  “That’s what I said.” Liliana turned to her father. “Please? Please? Please? Please can I tell Millie ‘bout Eloise-y”?

  “Sure.” Prince Lorenzo chuckled, and the brothers slipped into the next booth.

  Millie gestured to the booth she’d been sitting in. “We’ll just be in the next booth.”

  Prince Lorenzo nodded. “Would you mind getting her some juice, too?”

  Persy put down Millie’s things and volunteered. “I’ll get it. May I get either of you a drink or some food as well?”

  “Just some coffee and some pastries, please, if you’ve got them. Your choice.”

  “Will do, Your Highnesses.”

  Prince Alexander aimed an easy smile at her. “No need for formality on my account.”

  “Yes, of course.” She glanced between the brothers again—the prince and future king!—and walked away.

  She brought over Liliana’s drink first, a short glass of orange juice sweetened with some grenadine syrup, with a cherry, straw, and little umbrella.

  Liliana clapped. “Pretty! I like pretty things.”

  “Understatement of the century,” Prince Lorenzo muttered with a smile.

  Liliana scrunched her face. “What, Papa?”

  Prince Lorenzo deftly avoided the question. “Nothing, Liliana. Did you tell Millie about the baby yet?”

  “Oh, yeah! Millie, she has the prettiest green eyes ever!”

  Prince Alexander chuckled. “Think she’ll ever stop talking about Eloisa? I think little Ellie found someone else to spoil her.”

  “As if she doesn’t have enough already.
<
br />   At the princes’ table, Persy put down the coffees and pastries.

  Prince Lorenzo pulled his cup closer. “Thanks, Persy.”

  “You’re more than welcome, Sirs. If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”

  As she walked away, she heard them chattering about their trip to see the baby. From the news reports, Persy knew Eloisa was their niece. Their sister Princess Arianna had married Finn, the crown prince of Brazenbourg, a small country well north of Valleria.

  Needing to get away from little girls and talk of baby girls, Persy made a round through the pub. She collected empties, cleared tables, and took fresh drink orders. She was headed to the bar to put the orders in when she saw Sully enter the pub.

  Bastard was all she could think when she saw him. Her entire body locked as it ran through his words last night. Words that flat-out said he intended to control her life and control her.

  A small part of her tried to reign in her temper, even calling back his actual words.

  I’m possessive, honey, but I’ll never treat you like a possession.

  He’d said that, but she didn’t believe him. Truthfully, she had a hard time distinguishing the difference. Right now, all she felt was annoyance and irritation.

  Sully made his way to her, easily finding her in the crowd. When he reached for her free hand, she stepped back.

  “Don’t touch me. How dare you show your face here? How dare you try to grab me while I’m working?”

  “Persy—”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was thinking about you.”

  That was sweet, but she wouldn’t let it drain her anger.

  “I’m. Working.” She gave his body a once over; damn it, why did he have to look so good? “It looks like you are, too. Do you often harass women while you’re working in that uniform?”