Royally Screwed

by Sienna Blake

Grayson gives me a dirty look. “You don’t think I can be normal?”

  I laugh and wave at him. “Even on your day off you’re dressed like…”

  “Like?”

  “Like someone not normal.”

  Grayson makes a humpfting noise. “What would a ‘normal’ person dress like?”

  “Jeans. A t-shirt.”

  He frowns. “Jeans?”

  “Do you know what they are?”

  He shoots me a glare. “Of course I know what jeans are.”

  I almost laugh at his indignation. “Have you ever worn jeans?”

  He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.

  I laugh softly, shaking my head. “Well, good thing I may have some men’s jeans here that you can wear. Stay here.”

  I walk past him into my bedroom.

  Of course, he doesn’t listen to me and follows me right in, surprising me when I hear his voice from behind me.

  “Why do you have spare men’s jeans in your bedroom?”

  I consider kicking him out of my bedroom but figure getting Prince Grayson to do anything he doesn’t want to do would be a shit-fight. I was better off grabbing clothes for him and hurrying him out afterwards.

  I rummage in the bags by the bedroom door and find what I’m looking for.

  I turn around and he’s right there, standing in the doorway, blocking my escape. Prince Grayson and I are in my bedroom. Alone. My bed is right there. Any closer and he can push me right onto the mattress and have his way with me. My body heats up at this thought before I shove it aside. Grayson didn’t come here for sex. He came here for a tour of normal life.

  Luckily, Grayson seems oblivious to my illicit thoughts. “What are they for?” he asks, indicating the bags of clothes.

  “They’re clothes that the staff have donated to go to one of the local shelters. I collect them and was actually going to bring them to the shelter today.”

  Grayson’s face softens. “Oh.”

  “Here.” I press the clothes into his arms, avoiding his eyes so I can’t see the affection in them. The affection that inadvisably tugs at my heart. “Try these on. They’re used but clean.”

  I step outside my bedroom to give Grayson some privacy. And realise what I’ve done the second the door is closed. I’ve shut the Crown Prince of England into my tiny bedroom.

  Oh God. It must seem like a closet to him. A cramped, unsophisticated, dingy closet.

  I shake myself. What do I care what the prince thinks of my bedroom? There’s nothing wrong with the way I live, the way most people live.

  When the door opens, Grayson steps out. Damn him. He still looks delicious as hell even in second-hand clothes. The jeans sit low on his hips, the material snug across his strong thighs. The black t-shirt stretches across his wide, firm chest and bulging biceps. His face is still too recognisable though.

  I walk over to him and place a baseball cap over his head, covering up most of that wild dark hair. Then I step back.

  There is no way that this could pass as normal, more like a friggin’ fitness model. But at least he doesn’t look like royalty.

  “Do I look okay?” he asks. For once Grayson sounds almost unsure of himself.

  You just dressed a crown prince in charity clothing.

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or what. This all seems so unreal.

  He frowns at me. “Why are you smiling like that?”

  I shake my head. “You look as handsome as ever even in jeans.”

  The smile he rewards me with is bright enough to light up the room...and my heart.

  Grayson insists on carrying the charity bags for me. I grumble a little about equality but am secretly pleased (and a little turned on) when he scoops up all the bags in his two large hands as if they weigh nothing.

  We take my small second-hand car into town after arguing over who gets to drive. I win that argument when I ask him if he knows how to get to the charity shop we’re going to. He assents by sulking—adorably—in the passenger seat for part of the way.

  “Sophia, darling!” the manager of the shelter, Donna, greets me in French, the official language of Monaco. “So good to see you.”

  We greet each other with hugs and kisses on both cheeks.

  “Where would you like the bags placed?” Grayson asks from behind me, his British accent obvious.

  “Just in front of the reception, thank you,” I say back in English.

  He nods and does as I ask.

  “And who is this handsome Englishman you’ve got slaving away for you?” Donna says to me in French, an interested look in her eye as she stares between us. “And where do I get one?”

  Before I can answer, Grayson steps to my side.

  “My name is…Gray,” Prince Grayson says in perfectly accented French as he holds out a hand to Donna. “I’m a friend of Sophia’s.”

  Donna blushes, having been caught out, before shaking his hand, profuse apologies on her tongue. Grayson good-humouredly waves them away and asks about the shelter. They converse for several minutes before Donna is called away to assist with something.

  I stare at Grayson in surprise.

  “What?” he asks.

  “You speak French?”

  He nods.

  “Any other languages?”

  He tilts his head. “Spanish, German, Italian. My Portuguese is passable.”

  My eyes almost bulge out of my head. He knows how to speak six languages?

  “More tutors growing up,” he says by way of an explanation.

  My head spins. “So you learned how to dance like a professional and speak six languages as a child. Jesus,” I say with a laugh, “when did you have any free time to play?”

  The sombre expression on his face tells me all that I need to know. Prince Grayson was not allowed to play when he was a child. This knowledge almost breaks my heart.

  * * *

  I pull up to La Note Bleue beach. It is packed full of tourists and children enjoying the warm weather, as all beaches in Monaco are. Hopefully we’ll find a spot to set our towels down.

  I glance over to Grayson. “I brought two towels for both of us. But you’ll have to buy a set of swim shorts at the surf shop.”

  Grayson raises an eyebrow at me. “You want to lie on the beach here?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it’s so crowded.”

  I roll my eyes. “Excuse me, Your Highness. You may have to risk sitting next to a common person.”

  He laughs. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

  “I know. The resort pool is quieter, but I just love the sea. It’s so peaceful out there.” I turn my head and stare at the surf in the distance, a light smile on my face.

  I feel Grayson’s hand on mine. “I have a better idea. If you’re up for it?”

  * * *

  “This. Is. Insane,” I say.

  Earlier in my car, Grayson made one phone call—one short phone call—and he was handed the keys to a speedboat at a nearby jetty. After promising me that he knew how to drive the thing, Grayson took us out forty minutes off the coast of Monaco to a small private island, where I am now standing with my feet in the untouched white sand beach, sheltered from the Mediterranean Sea by a rocky cove, staring at the sea stretching out to the horizon, Grayson standing next to me. It feels like we’re the only two people in this world.

  “It’s called Vladi Island,” he says. “One of my friends owns it. He said we can stay here as long as we like.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “So this is how the other half live, huh?”

  Grayson grins at me. “Being prince does have some benefits.”

  I turn back to the sea and inhale the fresh air, joy warming up my insides. “I’ll say.”

  I can feel Grayson staring at me. When I turn back to him the look on his face is undecipherable.

  “What?” I ask.

  He shakes his head.

  “Tell me.” I poke his side with a finger. It’s rock-solid muscle.

>   “Did you just poke His Highness?”

  I poke him again. “Yes. His Highness is being obstinate.”

  He laughs as he grabs my hand so I can’t do it again. I’m surprised when his fingers lace lightly with mine between us. But I don’t pull away. This is…nice.

  “I was just thinking that…I like to see you smiling,” he says finally.

  My insides warm and not just from the sun.

  “Speaking of sun,” I say, “I think it’s time my skin feels it.”

  I pull my shirt off, revealing a red bikini top underneath, then begin to unbutton my pants before pushing them down my legs. I catch him watching me and I flush. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  I wave my hand at him. “Just standing there…looking at me undress.”

  “I rather like watching you undress.”

  “How would you like it if I stared at you undressing?”

  “I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

  He strips off his shirt and I swear my mouth drops open. He looks so damn good he looks Photoshopped, the sun turning the hairs on his arm blonde, giving him a golden sheen. I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing him without clothes on.

  “Oh no,” I say as a realisation strikes me.

  “What?”

  “You never bought swim shorts.”

  Grayson lets out a very unroyal snort. “Why would I need swim shorts?” He drops his jeans to his bare ankles, his semi-hard cock hanging at the junction of that perfect V.

  Now I’m staring.

  And he can see I’m staring.

  I avert my eyes with a squeal. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s not anything you haven’t seen before. And there’s no one else on this island.”

  Fair point. But still.

  I feel flustered and all squirmy and I hope to God that the wetness pooling between my thighs isn’t soaking through the material of my bikini bottoms.

  For a moment we just stand there in various states of nakedness, the tension making the already warm air sticky and hot. I can hardly stand it. I break into a run, heading towards the sea.

  “Race you in,” I call behind me.

  “No fair,” he calls, laughter in his tone.

  I enter the cool water with a splash around my ankles. It’s the perfect temperature and I let out a tiny scream of happiness. I hear Grayson coming up behind me.

  His arms close around my torso in a tackle as I get waist-deep in the water. We fall into the sea with a large splash. We emerge laughing and pushing water from our faces. He looks fucking delicious with water droplets glistening across his thick lats and rounded shoulders.

  He shakes his head, flicking water at me from his dark hair.

  “Hey!”

  He grins at me. “Oh, sorry. Did I get you?”

  He steps in close, his grin sliding off his face, replaced with an intense stare. “You have a piece of seaweed…” His fingers brush my shoulder, causing electricity to shoot down my arm.

  Suddenly we’re lunging for each other, wrapping ourselves around each other, his hands splayed around my back, my legs hooking around his waist. This buzzing need for him ignites into an inferno.

  Our lips lock, as our tongues dance between our open mouths. His kisses taste like salt. And sun.

  His hands feel like warm heaven against the cool water lapping around us. My nipples press to painful points against his firm chest, the only thing separating our naked bodies being this thin yet frustrating piece of clothing.

  One of his hands remains splayed on my back, pressing me to him. The other is greedy as it explores my body, palming my breast under my suit, pinching my nipples.

  I groan and roll my hips against his hard-on, trapped between us, earning a curse from him. That’s where I want him. There where it aches.

  As if he reads my mind his hands move down my side and around my ass to rub at my slit through my bikini from behind. All he has to do is tug my bikini bottoms aside. That’s all he has to do and I could sink down onto his length, filling me like I need.

  “Fuck me, Grayson,” I beg.

  I don’t need any more foreplay. This whole damn morning in his presence has been enough of a tease.

  His fingers tuck under the edge of my swimmers and—

  He pulls back with a groan, leaning his forehead on mine, his heavy breath on my cheeks. “We can’t.”

  What?

  “Believe me, I want nothing more than to be inside you right now, but…”

  I pull back to stare at Grayson, almost afraid to ask. “But what?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s against our arrangement.”

  “So?”

  “The arrangement is there for a reason, Sophia.”

  A reason? I frown. “I thought it was just…a game. It’s not a game?”

  “No.”

  “What is it?”

  He says nothing. Not even after I wait for several minutes to see if he will fill the gap with words.

  Frustration snaps in me. The heat, his rejection, his refusal to say why…it’s all too much. I unhook my legs from him and stand in the water that comes up to my chest. I turn towards the shore and begin to wade back.

  He grabs me and tugs me against him again. I am helpless against his strength.

  “Don’t be angry with me. Please.”

  “I’m not,” I lie. “I’m just ready to go back.”

  He presses soft kisses along my cheeks, each kiss softening my anger. “Tonight, Sophia. We will fulfill your every fantasy. I promise.”

  What if my fantasy is you? I don’t say this out loud.

  He searches my face. “Say you’ll come to me tonight.”

  I close my eyes for just a moment. For just a moment I let myself feel how much of a bad idea this is. Because I more than want to fuck him. Him. Not the prince. But the light-hearted, generous, vulnerable man I can see glimpses of.

  I am already in too deep.

  “Okay,” I say, sealing my fate.

  Grayson

  Sophia and I sneak back into the hotel via the staff entrance. We run like thieves through the corridors, sunglasses over our eyes, a cap pulled low over my face and the warmth of the sun wrapping me like a hug. We draw attention not because of who I am but because we are giggling like children. I keep grabbing her and pushing her around empty corners, kissing her plump, sweet mouth. She’s sweet as honey and I’m addicted.

  Finally we make it to her apartment. I palm her breasts from behind as she unlocks the door, her breath hitching as she pushes it open.

  I spin her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her. My hands gripping her body, her hands tangling in my hair, pushing the cap off my head. I need her.

  I need her too much.

  I pull away and she lets out a whimper. I suck in breath as I rest my forehead on hers, just enjoying the closeness.

  Enjoying it too much.

  What are you doing, Grayson?

  I straighten. “I should go.” Even as I say this, my eyes draw over her shoulder.

  She looks over her shoulder to see what I’m looking at. The open door to her bedroom. Her bed. It just needs her in it. Naked. Under me.

  “Grayson…”

  Fuck.

  It takes every single inch of my willpower not to push her into her apartment and close the door and the world and all my responsibilities out.

  “Tonight,” I say, backing away. If I kiss her again, I’ll break all my rules. I’ve already broken too many today.

  She pouts and eyes me from the doorway. I bump into the wall behind me before spinning awkwardly on my heel and forcing myself away, stumbling away like I’m drunk. I am drunk. On her.

  Tonight.

  I can’t wait for tonight already.

  And then what? A sour voice reminds me that our time is limited. And then…

  I don’t know.

  Sophia

  Two minutes past eleven at night.

  I’m standing in front
of the door to Prince Grayson’s suite. I thought that I might be less nervous the second time round. Instead, my stomach is doing flips, my palms are sweaty and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe in deep before I pass out.

  My hand is shaking as I knock.

  Nicolai opens the door this time. He’s not wearing anything except for a navy robe tied around his waist, the top open enough so I can see the firm plains of his chest. He eyes my red body-fitting dress and his nostrils flare.

  Nicolai’s gaze snaps back to mine. “You should not have taken him out today.”

  He’s talking about my little excursion with Prince Grayson.

  I roll my eyes. “Grayson is an adult—”

  “—he is a royal heir of England and it is my job to protect him. You’re making it very very difficult.”

  Annoyance flares in me. “We were in no danger—”

  “—that is not your right to determine.”

  “Nobody recognised him.”

  Nicolai leans in so close, his breath is hot on my cheeks. “They could have. He’s a future king, Sophia. What you did was reckless. He has enemies who want him dead. Are you prepared to have royal blood on your hands?”

  Horror drains the blood from my limbs. I didn’t consider this. I didn’t mean to put the prince in danger.

  “If he comes to you alone again, you come to me. Do I make myself clear?”

  I don’t want to make that promise. Because deep down, I want Prince Grayson to seek me out, alone.

  “Sophia?” Nicolai warns.

  I let out a sigh. “I promise I won’t drag the prince out into public by ourselves. Happy?” Even though it was him that demanded to tag along with me.

  Nicolai grunts under his breath, but he seems to accept that this is all that he’s getting out of me.

  He closes the door behind me and leads me silently into the master suite, where Grayson and Chase are waiting. For me.

  This time they didn’t bother with clothes. The two of them are robed just like Nicolai. A shiver runs down my spine as they close ranks around me.

  “Good evening, Sophia,” Grayson says, standing before me.

  I get a flash of earlier today, our bodies pressed close together, his eyes, as blue as the sea, fixed on mine. And his promise, “Tonight, Sophia. We will fulfill your every fantasy.”