Scandalous Box Set

by Layla Valentine

  “That is what is wrong with you royals,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You’re always so stiff.”

  I still don’t think she believes I’m actual royalty, but I’m in no hurry to convince her. With the royal romance book in her bag, I have to assume she would pounce on me as soon as the truth came out, hoping to be like one of the heroines in her book. And while Jane-Ann pouncing on me is far from the worst thing I can imagine, I want her to pounce on me for different reasons. Like, our raw magnetism or my dashing good looks.

  If Jane-Ann decides to press those pouty pink lips to mine, I want it to be because, on some level, she likes me and not my title. My entire life has been spent trying to sort out whether people are friends with me or the future crown that hangs over my head like a cloud. But right now, the sky above my head is clear, and I’m enjoying it.

  “That feels like a big judgment from someone who has never been to Europe,” I tease.

  She whips her head to me, eyebrows drawn together. “How do you know that?”

  “Just a guess.” I shrug with a tiny grin on my face.

  She doesn’t answer right away, letting me know I pinned her correctly.

  Finally, she stops dancing and turns to me. Her face is flushed from alcohol and exertion, and the pink in her cheeks makes her look young and vibrant. Her brown eyes are wholesome, but I feel the sincerity and intensity in them as she sizes me up and then takes a step toward me until our bodies are nearly pressed together.

  “You’re right, I haven’t been to Europe. Or anywhere for that matter,” she says, brushing one of her plaits over her shoulder and standing a bit taller. “But I don’t need to be well traveled to see that you’re looking for something. Something Europe and all the money in the world that bought you these crisp, well-fitted clothes couldn’t offer. So, before you judge me for spending my entire life in Round Rock, Texas, you should take a long look in the mirror and realize that you came to me in search of something more, pretty boy.”

  There’s an intriguing mix of vulnerability and strength in her speech, and it makes me like Jane-Ann all the more. She is still staring up at me, one eyebrow raised in a challenge, when I let the smile that has been playing at the corners of my mouth take control.

  “You think I’m pretty?”

  She throws her hands up in defeat. “That is what you would hear from all of that.”

  Quickly, I grab one of her hands and spin her in a tight circle, pulling her against my chest and swaying side to side with the music. “I heard the rest of it, too. And you’re right. I am searching for something.”

  Her expression opens in a question, and I give her a wicked grin.

  “A good time.”

  Jane-Ann bites her lower lip and gives me an indecipherable look before she squeezes my hand and leads me away from the dance floor and back toward the bar. She orders two shots and hands me one, a dangerous glimmer in her eye.

  “Why didn’t you say that in the first place, Your Highness?”

  Jane-Ann can drink. Looking at her petite frame, I wonder where she’s even storing the alcohol, but she keeps up with me, throwing back shots and chasers like it’s her job. Mother and Father would be so proud of my choice of companion for the evening.

  “You better slow down,” I warn as I hand her another beer.

  Her eyes narrow. “You came into my honky-tonk, remember? You’re on my turf.”

  Her words are slurred, and I laugh. “Your turf? Are you in a gang I should know about? I’d hate to get tangled up with a bad crowd my first night in America?”

  She drags her hand down my chest, and my button-down feels flimsy, the warmth of her hand leaking into my skin.

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me,” she says.

  I lean closer without thinking about it and then catch sight of the same man I’ve been seeing over her shoulder all night. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of us.

  I tip my head toward him. “He your bodyguard?”

  She follows my gaze and then groans. “My ex-boyfriend.”

  Something in my eyes must worry her because she quickly adds, “In high school. We broke up before graduation.”

  “And he’s still following you around?”

  Even from across the bar, I see the man’s jaw clench as I touch Jane-Ann’s arm. He’s wound up tightly, all right.

  “Not following exactly. Just making himself available should I decide I made a horrible mistake nine years ago.”

  I click my tongue. “Jane-Ann, Jane-Ann. I had no idea I was talking to such a heartbreaker.”

  Her gaze turns lethal. “Do I not look like a heartbreaker? Should I be offended that you don’t think I’m capable of devastating men with a single glance.”

  Her glance is pretty devastating now, but I don’t say so. “It’s obvious you look good, Jane, but—”

  “Jane-Ann,” she corrects sharply, one blond eyebrow raised.

  I nod my head in apology. “It’s obvious you’re gorgeous, Jane-Ann, but you just seem so…nice. You seem like a nice girl. A good girl.”

  Fire flickers in her gaze for a moment before she drops her glass on the bar, plucks mine out of my hand to join hers, and then drapes my arm over her shoulder as she sashays toward the dance floor.

  “I wasn’t done with my drink,” I say, looking over my shoulder longingly at my half-full beer.

  She spins and pinches my chin between her thumb and forefinger, gripping my face tightly until my gaze is forced back to hers.

  “Maybe you should find yourself a nice girl who cares.”

  I’m torn between the heat building in my chest and the laugh that wants to force its way out. Laughter at how I managed to walk into a random bar and find someone like Jane-Ann. I want to know if I simply got lucky or if America is filled with women full of life and fun.

  I wasn’t lying when I told her she seemed nice. I’ve been with plenty of women in Europe, enough to know that Jane-Ann is wholesome and sweet. But as she pulls me toward the dance floor, her back pressed against my front, her body circling into me more than necessary, I’m beginning to realize wholesome and sweet doesn’t mean Jane-Ann isn’t a whole lot of fun, too.

  The song changes as we reach the center of the dance floor, switching from a twangy line dance to something with a bit more beat. Everyone partners up, and Jane-Ann wraps her hands around my neck, arching her body into mine.

  I can feel her ex-boyfriend watching us from his stool, but I can’t bring myself to care much. She feels too good in my hands to worry about anyone or anything else.

  “You know ‘nice’ wasn’t meant as an insult?” I say, clenching my teeth as she does her best to grind away my first impression of her.

  Are jeans supposed to be so sexy? Usually I’m drawn to skin. To short skirts and low-cut tops. But Jane-Ann is covered, and yet I can’t take my eyes away from her. Perhaps it is the allure, the mystery lurking beneath. Maybe that mystery is why her ex-boyfriend is sulking in a chair in the corner rather than moving on.

  “Men always think they’re talking in some kind of code,” she says, leaning away from me, her hands still twined behind my neck.

  I can feel one of her fingers sneaking up to circle in the hair at the back of my neck, and it is absurd how good it feels.

  Jane-Ann continues, “Calling me nice is a way of saying I’m low-risk. There is no threat of being swept off your feet, of catching feelings for me.”

  “Catching feelings?” I ask, smoothing my hand down her spine.

  “Isn’t that a common phrase among the royals?”

  I shake my head. “Not among the adult royals. My younger brothers have been known to say it.”

  She slaps my chest and then wraps herself around me again. “Telling me I’m nice is the same as me saying you have a nice personality.”

  I wince. “Ouch.”

  She gives me a knowing look. “Exactly.”

  “Okay, but that is not how I meant it. Being nice is a good thing.”

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nbsp; “No, it isn’t,” she insists. “It means you could take me home to your parents, and everyone knows the girls you can take home to your mom and dad are not the girls you take home for a bit of fun at the end of the night.”

  My pants suddenly feel tighter, and I’m having anything but nice thoughts about Jane-Ann. The alcohol has loosened whatever grip I had on my self-control, and I can feel something animal growling beneath my skin. I slip my finger beneath her chin and tilt her face up to mine.

  “My parents would hate you, Jane-Ann.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Parents love me.”

  She tries to look away, but I grip her face and lean forward until our lips are inches apart.

  We’ve essentially stopped dancing, but our bodies are still pressed together below the waist, swaying slightly to the music while everyone else swirls around us. I can’t be bothered, though. I haven’t been able to pay attention to much beyond her heart-shaped face since she first walked up to me.

  “I’m being honest when I tell you my parents would be anything but pleased if I brought a woman like you home.”

  I can hear my mother’s voice in my head, commenting on the tightness of her jeans and her hair being pulled back in braids. Her red lipstick is strictly against the all-natural makeup style of the royal family, and Father would balk at her incredibly high tolerance for liquor. Jane-Ann would be added to the long list of women I’d been seen with who were considered inappropriate matches for the Prince of Sigmaran.

  Rather than being discouraged by this, Jane-Ann’s eyes widen with a mixture of surprise and hope. There are yellow and green flecks in her irises.

  “Are you just saying that because you feel bad?” she asks.

  I laugh and pull her against me, resting my chin against her temple as I run my hands down her sides. Her waist is small and flares into larger hips, perfect for holding onto.

  “I feel like I’m insulting you. But no, I’m not just saying it. My family wouldn’t approve one little bit.”

  She sighs. “Wow. It’s a weird feeling being the bad girl.”

  When I laugh, she slips out of my arms, crossing her own over her chest. I reach for her, but she dodges me.

  She tilts her head to the side. “You were lying, weren’t you?”

  I try to bite back the smile that insists on spreading across my face. “I wasn’t, but I never said you were a bad girl. That might be taking it a little far.”

  She pops her hip out and plants a hand on it, squaring off with me, and I hold my hands up in surrender.

  “I’m sorry, but I think we’re at a place in our relationship now where we can be honest with one another. You aren’t a bad girl, Jane-Ann.”

  “You don’t even know me,” she says. “We aren’t at any place in our relationship. You don’t get to tell me who I am.”

  She’s clearly upset, but I can see the amusement under it all. I’m getting under her skin, but she likes it. Maybe Jane-Ann isn’t so nice after all if this kind of back and forth gets her riled up.

  She glares at me in a challenge, daring me to say something else.

  Jane-Ann wants to play.

  I shrug. “You’re right. Let’s just dance and have a nice night.”

  She hisses at the word “nice.”

  “You said you came here for a good time.” She raises an eyebrow in question. “Is that still true?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say, looking away from her. I scan the crowd as though maybe I’m looking for someone else. As though there could be anyone more interesting in the bar.

  She sees what I’m doing and presses her hand to my cheek hard enough that it’s almost a slap. Her expression is hard and alive and mischievous, and I desperately want to know what is going on inside her head. Her red lips pull up in a sweet smile that sends a shiver down my spine.

  “Then let’s have a good time,” she says before biting her lower lip.

  She stretches onto her toes, and her lips are on mine.

  I saw it all coming, knew where it was headed, but the kiss still takes me by surprise. My breath whooshes out of me like I’ve been kicked in the chest, and I grab onto her waist just to have something to hold on to. Just to keep myself from falling over.

  Jane-Ann is warm and soft in my hands, and I feel her muscles shifting as she pulls herself closer to me, as she presses her hips into mine and arches against me.

  The music changes from one song to another, but I don’t think about what it means. Don’t think about the people who might be watching us, about her ex who is probably staring daggers into me. All I can think about is her hands in my hair, my hands on her body, and the feeling of her tongue as it swipes into my mouth.

  I grab a handful of her shirt, and I can feel it come untucked from her jeans. I slide my hand into the opening and almost sigh at the feel of her skin against mine. She is smooth and warm like a good drink, and I am dying of thirst. My hand moves higher and higher until I feel her fingers around my wrist, pushing me down.

  Something snaps and my eyes pop open. The room is hazy, and I feel like I’ve just been pulled out of a good dream. When my eyes are able to focus, I see Jane-Ann looking up at me, her lips swollen from kissing, her cheeks stained pink.

  “I’m not that bad,” she says through a laugh. “You can’t undress me.”

  I blink a few times and manage a smile. “Right. Sorry, love.”

  She grabs my hand and wraps it around her waist, her eyes narrowing. “Not here, at least.”

  I tense, but before I can find the courage to ask, Jane-Ann pulls me through the crowd and toward the front door.

  Summer in Texas is hotter than I’m used to. I expect the night air to be cool, but it’s still sweltering, and I can already feel sweat beading on my forehead. Jane-Ann doesn’t mention it as she pulls me around the corner of the building and presses me against the bricks.

  “Are you trying to prove a point?” I ask even as I’m berating myself for saying anything at all. Whatever I’ve said to rile her up, I don’t want to undo it. I want forward motion. I want to maintain this trajectory until we both land firmly in “bad” territory.

  She licks a line across my neck and presses a kiss beneath my ear, effectively severing the connection between my mouth and my brain. Then, she whispers against my skin.

  “Are you trying to talk me out of this?”

  God no. I don’t say the words, of course, because I’m physically incapable. But I answer by cupping her rear and dragging her hips up and over mine. Jane-Ann wraps her legs around my waist, and I spin around, pressing her spine against the bricks.

  This is something I’ve never been able to do. Being with a woman in any kind of public setting is a risk. Even in the back of a private club, everyone has cell-phone cameras and the press can manage to sneak in. But here? In the outskirts of Austin, Texas? There is no one.

  The parking lot light above us gives a dim flicker occasionally, but otherwise we’re alone and in the dark, and it’s good because I don’t think I’d have enough self-control to stop. And I can only imagine what my parents would say over breakfast if they saw this picture in the paper.

  Then, Jane-Ann slides a hand down my chest and lower and lower, her fingers tickling and teasing their way across my body, until I’m not thinking about anything except how much distance remains between her fingers and the top of my trousers.

  “Where is your limo?”

  I freeze, forgetting for a minute where I am, who I am. “Limo?”

  She pulls away, breathless, and gestures toward my head where the chauffeur hat had been perched when she’d first seen me. The hat that is now sitting at the bar.

  “I figure you’re a driver, right? Do you have a limo or a car around here somewhere?”

  “Oh. No. I took a cab.”

  She gives me a weird look and then her lips pucker to one side. “My car is too small.”

  Too small. I roll the words around in my head before I understand their meaning. My eyes widen.
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br />   “Oh.”

  She blushes and then reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone. “I can order a car. We’ve had too much to drink for either of us to drive. If you want to come back to my place, that is.”

  I’m nodding before she has even finished the sentence. “I want to.”

  I run my hands down her body and kiss her neck while she giggles and orders the car.

  “It will be five minutes,” she says after ending the call.

  I groan and bury my face in her neck. She smells like fresh morning rain and vanilla.

  “That’s too long.”

  She presses on my chest, putting a few inches of space. “Down, boy.”

  “Everything okay over here?”

  We both turn at the voice but make no move to separate or jump apart. When I see who it is, I’m glad. Jane-Ann’s ex.

  “Oh, Colby,” she says, standing a little straighter, but keeping her hand on my chest. “This is Christian.”

  Colby gives me the most cursory of looks before his eyes track back to Jane-Ann, searching her face, her body. “You good, Jane-Ann?”

  She looks up at me, an unspoken apology written on her face. “Yeah, Colb. Everything is great. We’re just waiting for a car.”

  I see the disappointment ripple through him, and I feel bad for the guy. Being her friend would be torture. I’ve only known her for an hour, and I can’t imagine it.

  “Okay,” he says, sounding like a disappointed child. His jaw clenches and he nods to me. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too.” I lift my hand in a wave.

  As soon as he turns the corner, Jane-Ann sags against the wall and groans. “God. So awkward.”

  I kiss her temple and her cheek. “You’re breaking his heart.”

  “I’m not trying to.” She presses her hands to her face for a minute, taking a deep breath.

  No matter what Jane-Ann says, she is good. She’s the kind of girl who is friends with her exes, who doesn’t want to hurt their feelings, who tries to keep the peace. She’s a good person who I am about to do very bad things with.

  I lean forward and whisper, my lips brushing against her ear. “Bad girls don’t have to try to break hearts.”