Risking the Crown (The Crown 2)

I set up my laptop on the built-in desk. The air conditioning sputtered and churned overhead. I heard there were complaints from many of the athletes that the village wasn’t ready for them. I was glad I had a hotel room during the unexpected heat wave.

I had a few emails from Karen. My assistant had also sent an update on the sales numbers for last month’s adventure game. I exhaled as I scanned the spreadsheets. Shit. It wasn’t performing as well as I wanted. It made the pressure for the Kenzie game all that more critical.

I looked up when I heard a loud thump on the other side of the wall. I had no idea what Lachlan was doing over there. It sounded as if a caged animal was trying to break free.

I typed out a response to Sylvie, trying to ignore the sounds that were beating the wall.

I tried to read through a memo about the new launch schedule for the spring when the bookcase rattled overhead.

I pushed back from the desk and marched next door.

“What in the hell are you doing over here? I’m trying to work.”

Before I could dodge, a ball hit me on the shoulder. “Ouch!”

“Sorry, love.” Lachlan grabbed the ball from the floor and tossed it on the bed. “I didn’t see you.”

“What are you doing with that ball? Shouldn’t you be outside on a field?”

He chuckled. “The pitch. It’s called the pitch, not a field.”

“Oh.” I knew we had different terms for soccer, but I hadn’t bothered to study up. “We have dinner reservations later.”

“Sounds fancy.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“It’s a high-profile restaurant. We should have lots of visibility.” I had researched the best restaurants in Rio and made a reservation.

“Optics again?”

“Everything we do from now on is about the optics.” I sighed. We didn’t have much time to change the public’s perception of Lachlan. If it was going to work, we had to be in the public eye every day of the games. I needed to check the schedule for women’s soccer and a few other UK sports to make sure he attended in solidarity of the UK teams.

“What time?” he asked.

“I think we have three hours.”

I saw the expression in his eyes change. The playfulness disappeared and was replaced with a dark hunger.

I took a step back.

“Three hours for you to be mine before we go.” He snaked a hand around my waist.

“What? I’m in the middle of emails and mapping out our strategy. I’m lucky I got us those reservations.”

He spun me, pressing his lips into my neck. “This is how it’s going to work, Aspen.”

My legs buckled. His hands roamed over my chest, pushing my bra down. God, he worked fast.

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re going to go to dinner, but not before you’re properly fucked.”

I closed my eyes as my core tingled with excitement. His hands coasted over my hips, shoving my dress to the floor.

“Because I want everyone with a bloody camera to know you’re mine. I want them to see it when they look in your eyes. And I want you to know. I want you to still feel me when we walk down the street. I want you sore and aching from me.”

I moaned as he slipped his hand under the band of my panties, diving between my slit.

“Don’t you want that?” he growled. “You want my heat between your legs?”