"Of course, sir," she looked down for a moment. He felt a small thrill run through him, the way she said Sir, it sounded forced, like she was hesitant to get close to him. He liked that.
She was about to turn to go, but he reached out to her, grabbing her elbow gently. His body was overtaking him.
She turned to him in surprise.
"Do you mind staying with me for a moment—I need a female perspective but most of them are bias here..."
She looked down to her elbow, and then back to him. He thought he could see her cheeks flush.
"Sure—" she nodded, turning to join him at the railing, "I mean, of course sir."
He smiled as she stood next to him.
They were silent for a minute.
He took a drink—now, he didn't know what to say—a million thoughts had been running through his mind, but now he was blank.
Maybe, I just wanted her near me.
He tried to push the thought away. He couldn't help but gaze at her from a side glance.
The night air made beads of sweat glisten on her neck and her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, but some of her strands were now framing her face. He wanted to lick off the sweat.
The moonlight glittered off her own dark eyes, as if the moonlight belonged to the beautiful space within them.
He felt a familiar tug in his stomach. He knew the feeling—he wanted her.
His eyes glazed down her tight suit, as it hugged her womanly curves—he imagined what it was like to hold onto her hips.
She's sexy as fuck.
Then, his body reacted—he felt the bulge in his pants engorge.
He had women like her before, women outside of his class—but, they had thrown themselves on him—but here she was, keeping a solid arm distance away. It turned him on, and if her blushes matched her emotions—she was attracted to him, too.
He felt his walls breaking—I could just attend my duties tomorrow.
"So, what did you think?" he eyed her.
She shifted her gaze away, "About what, sir?"
He chuckled, "You know what."
She took a moment to respond, like she was trying to find the best answer, "Interesting dinner, sir."
He shook his head, pulling onto her elbow to face him, "Don't lie—tell me, really."
She looked up at him in surprise.
Somehow, within him, he knew that she wouldn't protest his closeness—not with the way she had checked him out when he boarded.
He set his glass on the railing, freeing his other hand.
"Honestly?" Her gaze was intense, like she was in the middle of playing a game, but not the ones he'd seen earlier amongst the ladies—a personal game.
"Honestly, Veronica," he said low.
Her eyes shifted away and then came back to his, fully focused, "Even though you're a Prince, I'm surprised women in our generation are so willing to throw themselves at you."
Her words were blunt—her eyes sparkled. It was like she was ready to say it, but needed his permission first. The fire lit within him—he was right, Veronica was different. Most other women would have said it turned them on, or they couldn't wait for more. It was like she wanted to push him away with her words. But, she was wrong—his attraction to her only increased—I want to take her now.
He smiled, "So, you think they should be more like you, then?"
"What—"
He leaned in close to her, their faces only inches apart, "You heard me—they should act like you, all brave on the outside with your morals—but on the inside, they want it even more than the rest."
His words came out seamlessly, her eyes lit—he was on point. The fire within him began to burn like never before.
He liked the way she was thinking, and he liked how he could see through it. The quench for lusty thirst was red-hot, he needed to satisfy it. Her cheeks burned red, he could tell even in the moonlight.
She tried to pull her elbow back, but he pulled her closer, and wrapped an arm around her waist.
The fire in her eyes sparked, the way she looked at him turned him on—like she didn't want to give in, but he could see her truth.
"What are you doing—" she said.
He brought their chests together, as he gazed into her dark eyes.
She didn't protest—she stared at him, blinking.
He whispered, "Admit it—you wanted me right when I got here—but your moral code is getting in the way..."
She gulped, surprised at his words, "I'm only here to serve you, sir—to help you out."
She tried to push against him, but she was weak, as if he had taken the strength out of her. Her push was nothing compared to the woman who had grabbed him by his elbow earlier.
He pulled her tighter, his face only an inch from her.
"Fine then—have it your way," he pressed his lips against hers.
She froze in surprise, her body tensing.
Her lips were soft and warm.
He broke away from her, she blinked as if in a spell.
He grinned, the taste of her lips sent a thrill through him. He had been fighting it—but, there was nothing wrong with a kiss, right?
Just so I could get it out of my system—get her out of my system.
"You can kiss me now, and do what I say—or, your fiance might find out about this," he pulled her closer to him.
His threat was playful—he knew what she wanted already, she just needed a little push.
Her eyes widened, "You wouldn't."
He grabbed her chin, "Want to find out?"
Her eyes fluttered, and it sent a rush of blood to his member. She looked down and then back up at him through heavy lashes, she bit her lip as she thought.
Damn, that's hot.
The fire roared in him, maybe he wouldn't be able to stop at a kiss.
She finally looked at him, and closed her eyes, reaching up to meet his lips.
He pressed their bodies together, his lips tasting hers.
Her breath was sweet and her lips seemed to taste like wine.
Her kisses were hesitant at first, but as he pressed his against hers—and as she took them into her mouth, her lips parted with hunger. She pushed her tongue into his mouth—gasping as their lips tugged at each other. She moaned softly. His body reacted—he hadn't heard a real sound of pleasure like that, for a long time—none like that.
Their kiss turned fierce, as the taste of her filled his mouth, and he pushed her against the railing.
Her hands twisted in his collar, pulling him closer.
Chapter 12
I am so getting fired.
Veronica's body ached and burned. She couldn't believe it. She hadn't even realized what was going on.
He pressed her body against the railing, and she felt his huge bulge press against her hip. His hands held onto her body, fitting her perfectly within his arms. His kissing was intense—it was like his lips burned through her own, sending fire and chills down through her body and electrifying her nerves into small waves of pleasure. She couldn't help but moan. With each breath, he pulled her tighter and tighter, their bodies couldn't get any closer.
She gasped as he bit down on her lip—the sensation tingling her throughout. Her body was moving on it's own. She had never known such intensity. Her stomach burned with heat, and it surged through her thighs. He squeezed himself in between her legs, making her part them as she stood against the rail.
"I'll take that as a yes," he growled as his mouth swept over hers. His voice was husky and deep—she could feel the vibrations of his groans, as they slowly rose in his chest.
Her mind swam, was she saying yes or no? She didn't remember.
She remembered the threat—she remembered his closeness but she also remembered her knees getting weak—and then her body caved.
He pressed against her—his member pressing hard into her. She could feel what her hands wanted to do—they wanted to take it in her hands and rub it up and down, take it into her mouth, but most of all—take it
full into her. Her hands ran through his soft blond hair—pulling at it.
Her mind numbly recalled that her fiance was nearby—but her body refused to listen to logic, Adrian's touch was so much better than logic. He pulled her towards him, and he guided her towards the bench nearby. He didn't let go of her lips as he smoothly lowered her onto the bench and pushed her down against it. Her body was pudding—she melted easily onto the sturdy bench as pressed himself against her.
He lowered his mouth to lick at her neck, and he hummed in delight as he tasted her. A shiver ran from her neck all the way down her body. Her hips practically bucked against him—but, she had no idea what to do—Veronica's head was swimming.
I'll do anything.
The thought raced across her mind—and it felt perfect, like Adrian's touch was the key to opening her. His breath was hot on her neck and suddenly she felt his hips on top of hers, slowly pushing them against her skirt. Her thighs begged for more, and she opened them up, allowing him to place himself between her legs. She had never felt such heat—she had never felt how restricting clothes would be at a time like this. As his hips pushed against her, against her pulsing mound—she couldn't help but moan, even though she tried to stayed quiet. Her body sang.
Suddenly, a door closed shut nearby—they both looked up. There was no one there—but when their eyes locked again, Veronica knew the spell was broken. She felt a new wave of embarrassment hit her.
"Oh my gosh—" she scrambled under him as best she could. He stayed there for a moment, staring at her—his wild green eyes blinking. It was like he was debating if he wanted to get off her. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed herself free. He slowly got off, sliding into a sitting position on the bench.
She pulled her skirt down, and pushed her shirt back into place.
What came over me?
Her breathing was ragged, and she sat for a moment next to him—her eyes darted back to him, and she was surprised to see him staring at her.
She gulped, "Sir—I am—I apologize..." she didn't know what to say.
I'm sorry for making out with you—sorry for dry humping you like a mad woman? Sorry for wanting you so badly, that I risked my entire well being out here?
The words burned in her. She had no words for him.
He stared at her, speechless.
That's a first.
"No witty come back?" she said, trying to break the ice. His eyes locked onto hers, he took a breath but he gulped—not able to say a word. His eyes bore into her like they were asking a million questions—asking her for something. She couldn't handle it.
Without another word, she got up and ran away. She ran off the deck and as far as she could from Adrian—she didn't look back.
The night air turned warm as she ran through the hallways of the boat—she wanted to cry.
She had never felt anything like that, and he had just sat there—staring at her.
What did all of that mean? Was it a game, one of his many tests for her?
When she burst into her room, she was practically sobbing—the hot tears ran down her face. She gasped as she tried to process everything that happened.
What am I supposed to do?
That wasn't normal for her—and she felt like she might not be normal after this either.
She stayed in her room for the rest of the night—pretending to be sick, even when the texts came in—she simply replied that she was ill and Dexter would take care of him.
She had no idea if he had his date—he was a crown prince after all—of course, he did.
And she stayed there all night—feeling her body burn still hours after they kissed.
Chapter 13
He looked over the tablet in his hands.
"You're sure this is her?" his eyes could practically pop out.
Megan nodded in confirmation.
Adrian touched the screen, his fingers delicately glazing over the photo of Veronica. He had asked Megan for more information on her. He had the resources, he could find out anything he wanted about her—he could find out what made her tick.
Last night was crazy—too crazy, even for him.
He had been stunned—he couldn't say from what exactly.
Was it her kiss, her surprised breaths, or the glow of lust in her eyes—real and genuine lust for him. He could see it, he could hear it, and he could feel it. His body reacted—not that he had practice withholding his lust, but it surged forward without him. His body clung to her, feeling her deep breaths and moans—it thrilled him, making him swell immediately.
Then, it was over—and she ran. He felt like he did back in the gym—when his body was pumping and he had been knocked around in boxing—but, this was way worse—and better, too. Adrian hadn't decided what to make of it, yet.
But this— "This is unexpected."
Megan nodded again, "That must be why she's so damn well loved here—she's on her A-game, making sure she always kept this job."
She sounded indignant, like she knew that Veronica had something to hide.
Adrian couldn't believe it—a woman like Veronica—getting curled up into the underground markets?
Was she capable of getting into some nasty business.
The profile was a few pages, it said the basics first—age, blood type, family, etc.
But, then it got interesting.
"A woman running from her past—and it's a deep past—" his eyes glazed over the information.
The file said she was in debt. She had gone to the authorities, telling them that her ex-boyfriend had spent her money and used her information. Her debt was owed to some real bad guys. But, no one could find him, and after all—it was all in her name. She couldn't escape it.
Veronica had been trapped.
His thoughts ran over to last night—the woman under him was sweet and innocent, she couldn't harm a fly. But, he barely knew her.
Her other information showed her social media—displaying boring pictures of her and her fiance.
Veronica had introduced them like she said. He didn't like the guy, Brian.
He was a slim guy and full of himself—the kind of guy that says they "know" the Prince—the ones who talk too much and flirts too much. Adrian knew those kind well, he considered them scum.
Adrian could almost smell the dishonesty off him—Adrian was a player, but at least he was honest about it.
"You need to watch yourself," Megan said as he laid down the tablet.
His mind was racing—this Brian didn't seem so selfless—did he know that Veronica was involved with the black markets?
Something in his gut told him no.
Megan laid down some of his new clothes. She wasn't facing him but he could feel her worry.
"I don't know what you mean," he tried to sound nonchalant. But, his voice betrayed him—and she knew him well.
"All I am saying sir—is that we came here for you—and you're acting unusual with her..."
He hadn't bothered to tell Megan about his dry humping, and mind blowing make out session with Veronica.
Adrian got up and went to the dresser, finishing up his outfit. He pulled his hair into a sleek shine—letting some of the blond waves curl towards his face, "And I am—I'm working on the bride thing."
It felt like a lie—the only woman out of the group that popped out was Cressida. And, Adrian wasn't convinced that it was for good reasons.
She walked towards him and clasped a shining piece of metal to his wrist, his favorite watch. It glistened in the room's soft light.
"Sir— you can't afford distractions, and right now—you're not doing a very good job," she eyed him over her glasses. The bags under eyes had darkened, he wondered if she worried about his future as much as she did.
If the worst happened, if his brothers took his throne—would he still get to keep Megan? The answer in his mind said a reluctant, no. He couldn't afford to lose her too, to lose the last of his family.
"I'm not getting distracted—" he said defens
ively, he didn't want to think about all the hard choices coming his way.
Can't I just have fun?
She sighed in exasperation, "You're not foolin' me—your attention to Veronica is beyond normal—it's too late for those flings, get your act together."
Her words stung, like he was a child getting a scolding—like a child who didn't know when the game was over.
He walked away from her, to the other side of the room, snatching the dinner jacket off the hanger, "I said that I wasn't do anything—"
"Enough!"
He snapped up in surprise. She was glaring at him, all her worries showing, "If you don't find the bride, then Parliament will say no, and I will not let you ruin your future—for Christ's sake, we barely got started!"
She threw her hands in exasperation, sitting down on the bed.
He went to her, he knew she was worried. He sat next to her, placing a hand on her knee. She took a deep breath.
He didn't want her to worry—it would be like making his mother worry over him all over again. He could listen to her for once.
"Meg—don't worry OK, I know what's at stake, and I'm going to do what's right—Veronica is not distracting me."
He tried to smile at her, but as he said the words, he felt like he was lying—so far, Veronica had riddled him, she stood against him, and he loved it. But, he didn't want Meg to know that—to know that he was feeling something that could ruin everything. He told himself that he would be stronger for the both of them, he would prove to himself that he only saw Veronica as an object and the servant she was.
Chapter 14
Veronica could only play sick for so long. When she awoke the next morning, exhausted from her millions of fantasies, she knew she had to face the music. She groaned, bleary eyed and tired as hell. She had touched herself all night—her hips bucking against her hand as they had wanted to do against Adrian.
But, it didn't help—she needed more, she needed him. She knew it was true.
But, she pushed the thought away.
Yesterday was a mistake.
And, she would make damn sure that she was on the offensive this time—she would be ready for his flirty ways and she knew she could withstand them. Nothing else would jeopardize her marriage with Brian.
His Royal Majesty : A Royal Wedding Romance Page 6
