Forbidden Prince: A Brother's Best Friend Royal Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  “Yeah, I saw he was there. I suppose he gets asked to do a lot of those kinds of things.”

  “Yeah, I wonder what kind of scam he’s running,” Aden sneers.

  “I don’t think it was any kind of scam,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “People pay him to talk. So what? He’s a big success story.”

  “His whole family is a bunch of con artists and money launderers, Ava,” Aden huffs. “You need to stay away from him. You know that, right?”

  “I didn’t even get to see him talk,” I retort. It’s totally true, too. Sort of. I mean, kind of. I barely remember it.

  “Good. I shouldn’t have to tell you these things.”

  Biting my tongue, I remind myself to count to ten. I hate the way that he thinks he can just lord it over me. Like I’m supposed to take on his personal battles as my own. But if I defend Ethan, it’s definitely going to sound suspicious.

  “Yeah, I need to get back to work here. I think break time is over…”

  “What are you doing? You got an internship?”

  “Yeah, an internship,” I repeat uneasily, hoping that the sound of the water and seagulls will conceal the tone of my voice.

  “You have a contract? Send it to me.”

  “Yeah, okay, fine, bye,” I say in a huff, thumbing the button to disconnect the call. Then I open my mail client, save the PDF locally and then start a new email, just shooting it off to him. He wants the contract, he gets the contract.

  I just hope he leaves me alone.

  I walk back, and it seems to take a very long time. After a while, I begin to feel a little exhausted from being pushed around by the wind and booming sounds. When I finally get back to the patio, I’m weary. I really want a nap.

  But Ethan strides out at pretty much just the same time, grinning broadly when he sees me. I watch his eyes drift toward my hair, which must be quite a fright right now, tangled and enormous.

  “I thought you ran away,” he smiles.

  I climb the stairs, relieved as the sound of the ocean recedes slightly. When I reach the top stair, he holds me in his arms, sliding his strong muscles against me, pulling me close. His hands play with the tangled mess of my hair as he lifts my chin, tipping my face toward his for a kiss.

  “I think I would like to have you tonight, Ava. I don’t think I can wait anymore,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against my lips with every word.

  I gasp, startled to hear it so succinctly. He holds me tighter as I begin to tremble.

  “Only if you want to, Ava,” he assures me. “You have to tell me this is what you want.”

  Pausing for a moment, I ask myself that very question. Do I? Do I want to spend the summer with this playboy? Do I want to give myself to someone who I could never develop feelings for? Who could never feel for me? Someone who’s probably made the same speech to a thousand other girls?

  “Tonight,” I sigh, glad to hear myself say the word. “That’s all I want too.”

  “Perfect,” he growls, pulling me even tighter, closing his mouth over mine. He kisses me deeply, plunging his tongue into my mouth, lifting me gently off my feet. It’s so easy to just submit, to just get swept away by Ethan Mercer.

  Chapter Eleven

  ETHAN

  The afternoon crawls by, while I’m distracted and edgy. Unfortunately I can’t just blow everyone off, but I find myself being short with people who deserve better from me.

  After three more video conferences and markups on two more contracts, I’m nearly done. The sun is setting.

  And my phone goes off yet again.

  It’s Aden.

  I try not to see what he’s been texting me. Gradually ruder messages—they all have a common theme: telling me to stay away from Ava. I don’t know that he knows for sure she’s here, or that I even saw her. I’m wary of giving him any information at all.

  He can wait.

  As the sky grows dark I change into a light silk sweater and linen trousers, feeling excitement building inside me. It’s a strange feeling, something I haven’t felt in a long time. This is real excitement, real eagerness to set my eyes upon her again. I’m like a kid.

  A dumb kid, I tell myself. Calm down. She’s really just another girl.

  But before I go out to the patio to meet her, I take the bottle of Dom and a couple champagne flutes with me. When I see her, she’s perfect. Her back is to me, with the wind swirling her pink skirt around her thighs. Her hair is pulled up high, revealing the sweet, pale skin of the back of her neck.

  My heart jumps. Then my cock, because I know this is definitely the night. She’s mine. Finally.

  She turns to face me, smiling shyly. The stars start to twinkle behind her as the sky grows inky black.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I ask her, drawing her into my arms. She’s so pliant and willing, she nestles perfectly against my chest.

  “Not anymore,” she answers.

  Slowly we begin to sway together, as though there’s music even though there’s nothing but the sound of the pounding surf and our heartbeats. I fold her hand into mine, drawing it up to my lips to kiss her fingertips.

  “Come with me, Ava,” I whisper, and she nods sweetly.

  Back in my room, I can see the moonlight glittering across the water reflected in her eyes. She watches me warily, unafraid but alert, as though committing everything to memory.

  I begin by untying her dress, slipping it to the floor. Her hands drift over my chest and shoulders, and I take off my sweater to feel her more distinctly. I can’t help but drink in the sight of her—this lush, beautiful creature, finally mine to enjoy.

  As soon as our lips touch, we’re falling toward the bed, legs entwined, arms locked together. I want to feel her all at once and she slips under me, angling her hips toward mine.

  “Tell me you want it, Ava,” I murmur.

  She bites her lower lip, gasping slightly.

  “I want you, Ethan,” she whispers. Then, louder: “I’ve always wanted you.”

  Her knees fall open and I find myself on top of her, nudging at her tight, wet entrance, as effortlessly as though we have done this a thousand times. I stare into her eyes, so bright in the dark room. I want to see her at the moment I’m finally inside her sweet, hot pussy. The first one inside her. My perfect girl.

  “You feel so good, Ava,” I tell her, still moving against the wetness on the outside of her. Her furrow is swollen and slick. She nods, her face a mixture between fear and desire. For a second a vision of Aden’s angry face appears in my mind, and I will it away. “Just relax, baby,” I tell her, willing myself to be gentle for her.

  She does as she’s told, and I slide my hard length into her wet, tight channel. I’m so fixed on her I hear the guttural moan of lust that swells in my throat as if it’s coming from someone else. Her eyes widen, and then her brows come together as she pants softly. Already tight, she closes around me more as I angle inside again. When her eyes finally close, she arches into me, locking her hands around my neck.

  We move together naturally in sync, each meeting the other’s needs without words. She grinds against me, faster and faster, drawing me as deep as I can go. Her cries rise as she clasps me deep inside, drawing out the earth-shattering orgasm from my roots.

  “I’m coming,” she breathes, and her voice rises until it fills my ears. We quake together, breathless and shaking, trembling as the ecstasy crashes through us again and again.

  She folds me into her arms, holding me tight.

  Chapter Twelve

  AVA

  I can’t believe this is real.

  As he lies on top of me, breathing hard, groaning like a bear, I’m swept away by everything I’m feeling. It’s like a dream. Like a made-up fantasy.

  But it’s totally real. And it’s totally perfect.

  I’m not a virgin anymore. Finally I know what this body is for, and it feels brand-new. I’ve never had a man give me real orgasms before. The ones I achieved by myself were nothing like this. I’ve hea
rd people say “toe-curling orgasm” before but thought it was an exaggeration.

  Yet here I am, with my toes actually curled. My body is still having little mini-orgasms as I think about it.

  For a long time we lay together, watching the moonlight reflections on the ceiling, feeling bliss seep through our pores.

  “You should probably stay for the whole summer,” he finally says, his voice rumbling and low.

  “Oh you’re funny,” I smile.

  He pushes himself up on his elbow, taking my hand in his and kissing my fingers playfully.

  “No, I’m serious,” he insists. “You really could. Why not?”

  I search his face. Is he really serious? It’s hard to tell.

  “Because my boss would kill me,” I tease, trying to figure out what he really means.

  “Oh that guy,” he grins. “I hear he’s a real tyrant.”

  “An absolute beast,” I agree.

  Silence falls between us again. The sound of the ocean is like a remote heartbeat. It’s so soothing I could fall right to sleep.

  The next morning, I wake in his arms, the little spoon. Just for a brief moment, I’m amazed at how easily we have fit together. I love having his strong body around mine, wrapping me almost completely. I love all the new feelings he’s inspired deep within me. I feel like I’m just waking up, for real.

  I know that we should be doing something serious, like maybe touring his companies, looking for that job he mentioned, but I just can’t get enough of him. The day stretches out with some delicious food, a walk on the beach. He holds my hand as we retrace my steps toward the town. It really seems like he hasn’t made this walk before, and he gets a look on his face of concentration and wonder every few steps.

  He seems to see everything: the different birds, the subtle change in the waves that indicate a sandbar maybe a hundred feet from shore, a quick change in temperature. He even points out a rustling in the underbrush on the other side of the beach, and tells me he just saw a bobcat. For real. An actual bobcat.

  I’m sure he is telling the truth, but I didn’t even notice. Must be his military skills at work.

  When we get back to the house, we don’t even make it back to the bedroom. My skin welcomes his touch, turning instantly back on like a neon light. We fall to the floor in the middle of the living room, tearing each other’s clothes off, desperate to reconnect.

  The next day, everything is a little bit easier. I wake in his arms again, this time without much surprise. It feels more natural. More of an expectation, like this is where I belong.

  I could get used to this, I think to myself, then push the thought aside. I’m definitely not going to get used to this.

  But my body almost is. I feared sex -- slightly uncomfortable, awkward, and speckled with moments of nervousness or fear. But my mounting desire overwhelmed any apprehension that I had. I had to have him, any way I could.

  As I’m getting accustomed to it, everything gets easier. It’s like learning to ride a bike, learning to drive my body. Learning to appreciate all the striking beauty of his long limbs, his thick muscles. It’s almost like being drunk, like being drugged. I can only stand to be away from him for a few minutes at a time before I’m starving all over again, eager to get my hands on him.

  But by the end of the week, I get the feeling we’re not doing everything we’re supposed to be doing. I’m sure those looks he keeps giving his cell phone are about work he’s not doing, because most of what he’s doing... is me. And we haven’t even left the mansion. None of that “tour” has actually happened. We’ve just been in a fantasy, a bubble. A really sexy bubble, but still.

  As we lay under the hot sun on twin cedar lounge chairs, I feel that I need to say something. I don’t want to say it, but I have to. It’s nagging at me, and now I can’t avoid it.

  “This has really been wonderful,” I start.

  He groans immediately. I push myself up on my elbow and squint at him, shading my eyes with my other hand. His body glistens in the sunlight, shiny with sweat. My mouth starts to water as I imagine licking that salty musk from his broad chest.

  “Why are you groaning?” I ask him.

  “Let’s just try to enjoy ourselves,” he sighs.

  I scowl, slightly irritated. “Who says I’m not enjoying it?”

  “You just did,” he shrugs, keeping his eyes closed. “But I’m perfectly happy where we are. Can’t we just stay like this?”

  “Don’t you have work to do? Come to think of it, don’t you have work for me to do?”

  “Well I have a job for you, if that’s what you mean,” he grins, taking at my hand and looking pointedly toward his bulging trunks.

  “I mean it, Ethan,” I insist. Reluctantly, I tug my hand back. He opens one eye and squints at me.

  “Okay,” he starts slowly. “Fair enough. So what do you want to do?”

  I hold my breath for a moment. What do I want to do? That’s a good question. I’m antsy, eager. I feel like there is more to be done. But what, exactly, do I want?

  “Well, we can’t stay here forever, can we?” I venture, knowing that’s not the most courageous thing I’ve ever said.

  “Of course we can,” he counters. “I can have everything delivered to us here. Anything you want. We never have to go anywhere.”

  “Never? Are you really offering me a forever kind of situation, Ethan?”

  He sighs, not answering. I watch his lips press together tightly. Suddenly, I sort of see him the way everyone else sees him. Over the last few days, he has seemed so tender, so willing to connect with me, but then again, that’s probably all part of the Prince Charming act.

  “Ethan?”

  “What?” he answers. I hear the chill in his voice.

  “You’re not really suggesting that we stay here, are you,” I say, and it’s not a question. It’s a statement. I know the answer.

  “Ava, I really think you’re overthinking it.”

  I sit up in my chair with my back to the sun so I can see him more clearly.

  “I’m not overthinking it,” I protest. “You’re not saying that we should stay here, Ethan. You are just giving me one of your smooth billionaire lines, right?”

  “I’m just lying in the sun, Ava,” he sighs impatiently, like I’m an annoying little kid all over again.

  “Because you’re not really saying that we are a thing, right? You’re not saying you’re going to send out a press release and declare that I’m your girlfriend, right?”

  There, I said it. It’s sort of a relief, now that I hear the words. I know this is true. I know I’ve been staying here for the better part of a week, inside of a fantasy. This is not real life. Real life is somewhere else, and we have just been pretending.

  “No,” he finally says.

  I shake my head. It’s a simple word, but somehow it’s not enough.

  “No, what?” I persist.

  “No, I’m not sending out a press release or anything,” he shakes his head. His eyes open finally and he looks at me with a mixture of irritation, sadness, resolve. Strangely, he feels much farther away from me than eighteen inches, even though I can measure the actual distance with my eyes. “We’re just hanging out, Ava. Isn’t that enough? Haven’t we been having a great time?”

  I tip my head to the side, staring at him. Yeah, I knew this was coming. It still kind of sucks. But my stubbornness takes over. I’m not going to be one of those girls who cries about it, who demands more. I got what I wanted, didn’t I? Bea will be proud.

  My heart sinks. My stomach drops. But I stand up, picking my cover up off the back of the chair and putting it back on.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s totally cool,” I say breezily. “I have so much stuff I need to do back home anyway. But this has been really fun, Ethan. Thanks for the vacation.”

  “So… that’s it? You’re ready to go?”

  I look around the patio, the horizon, the black sand beach stretching for miles in either direction. If I’m being
honest, is there anything left for me here?

  “Sure,” I chirp brightly. “I’ll get my stuff packed. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  As I walk away, closing the patio door behind me, my chest is pounding. I hadn’t quite planned it all out. It just happened, with the words spilling out before I could stop them.

  But in reviewing my performance back there, I know it was the right thing to do. And I know that I acted strong while I was doing it. I suppose that is the best I can expect from myself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ETHAN

  She closes the patio door, and the sound of the ocean waves take over again.

  I’m not sure why I answered her that way. Just habit, I suppose. Every time someone’s tried to insist on a little bit more for me, I have declined. At first, I just didn’t meet anybody worth latching onto. Then I got wealthy, and I never really knew which women were authentic. There’ve been a lot of them. Some gold diggers, but some decent ones too. But after a while, it just sort of became easier to keep them all at arm’s length rather than trying to separate the real ones from the fake ones.

  So, which one is she?

  Then again, it doesn’t matter. I just pushed her away, didn’t I? And she went, willingly. She walked away. So that’s that.

  I stand up from the lounge chair, stretching. I’m sore everywhere. Feeling my thigh muscles ache, I have to smile. Ava has really given me a workout over the last few days. So much for that shy virgin act. When she came out of her shell, she turned into an absolute animal, demanding more and more from me, several times a day.

  And now she wants to go back home.

  Figures.

  It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust when I walk back inside, out of the glaring sunlight. After I shoot a couple of texts to Perry, I’ve got the plane all fueled up, checked and ready to take off. We can just go.

  When I walk into the bedroom to let her know, she’s already dressed, with her hair pinned up on top of her head and sunglasses perched over that. She smiles at me in a friendly way, like we’re neighbors.