Loving the Crown (The Crown 3)

“Sir,” Wallace urged. “I’m requesting your audience immediately. I’m sure Miss Sparks understands the severity and importance of your obligations to the country. It’s a timely manner—it has been since your weekend duties ended.”

I looked between them. It sounded intense. “Of course. Just point me to the kitchen and I’ll find the ice for my arm,” I offered. I didn’t need any more fuss, especially if it was going to cause trouble.

Liam chuckled. “I have a staff for that. I’ll make sure you’re settled before I go anywhere.”

“But, sir—”

Liam shot him an icy stare. “I’ll return when I’m available, Wallace.”

The man folded his hands behind his back and took a step away from us. I knew I had caused a problem, and I had no way to undo it.

I whispered to the prince as we walked along the marble corridor. “You should go with him. I’m fine.”

“You’re my guest. Wallace can wait,” he replied.

“Is this normal for how you handle state problems?”

He pushed the lever on an elevator at the end of the long hallway. “It’s normal for how Wallace handles them. I’m third in line to the throne. This seldom falls on me.”

“Then shouldn’t you take it more seriously?” The elevator doors slid closed as we stepped into the car.

I could tell from the way he looked at me, I had overstepped a boundary

“No,” he snapped.

There was a gentle ding and the doors retracted. We walked into a beautifully lavish set of apartments.

“This is where I live,” he explained. “You’re in my wing of the palace.”

“Your wing?” I was astounded by the art and the furniture surrounding us. I’d been in a lot of guys’ bachelor pads and nothing looked like this.

“My brothers, sister, and I each have our own set of apartments inside the walls. Although, my brother Corbin is in the States for a while. He commutes back and forth for business when it suits him. And by that I mean he’s rarely here.”

“And the king?” I prodded.

“In London right now with the queen. They travel most of the time.”

“So you do have to step in often?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Occasionally.”

“I don’t want to keep you. You should go save the country instead of American actresses.” I smiled. “Just show me the way to your freezer and an ice pack.”

“You act like I can dump you off here and walk back downstairs.”

I felt the tingles start along my collarbone and travel to my breasts. The sound of his voice heated my chest. It was distracting enough to make me forget about the pain in my arm.

“Of course you can,” I whispered.

He stepped closer and it was as if the light in the room was blocked out from his massive frame. I couldn’t see anything but him. His eyes. His arms. The athletic movement of his body. I swallowed, looking into his gaze.

He reached forward. His palm rose toward me in slow motion. Or was it just that everything had suddenly switched into a different gear? As if we were in some kind of secret room and we were the only two who could see inside.

I didn’t know how it had happened, or if it was reversible, but I fell into the space. I lounged in the heat the nearness of our bodies created.

Liam grazed the line of my cheek. He touched my lip before his mouth crashed against mine with the kind of intensity I’d only pretended existed. But this wasn’t a scene. This wasn’t for the cameras. It was real, and passionate. Our mouths moved hungrily as our tongues twined in rhythm.

I gasped for breath. I wanted more. I needed it. I slung my good arm around his neck and brought him closer. Deeper.