The Prince and the Player

“That will be quite enough for tonight.” Reggie reaches between us and jerks me away. I have to grab his arm to stay upright on my heels—with a new added hazard: Cal’s breathtaking smile. “We need to find your friend and bid our adieus.”

Reggie drags me away, but I can’t resist a look back at the tall, slender fellow in the tuxedo. His arms are crossed, and he actually winks as he places one hand on his lips. Is he sending me a kiss?

I’m out the door and on the balcony, but my head’s in a dreamy haze of MacCallam Lockwood Tate, brother of the crown prince, some kind of soldier, and duke of somethingorother.

Reggie steps away from me in a rush and begins talking fast French to a tall man with longish dark hair. I squint to try and see who it is. He’s also wearing a black tuxedo jacket with medals and a sash across the front.

It takes me a moment to realize Ava is at my arm apologizing, and then, holy shit, it’s him! Reggie’s back, and I’m facing Crown Prince Rowan Something Something. I recognize him from the photographs Reggie showed me, and he’s even hotter and more intimidating in person.

“Your royal highness Rowan Westringham Tate, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Zelda Benedict of Texas and Miss Ava Wilder.”

“How do you do,” the crown prince bows stiffly, but before anything more is said, he and Reggie stalk away from us, again embroiled in a heated conversation I can’t understand.

Ava drifts toward the ballroom, but I wait and watch the two men. With a chiseled jaw and simmering blue eyes, he’s as handsome in person as he is in his pictures. From the way he holds himself, I’m sure he knows it, too.

He’s very formal and controlled, and the way he moves and speaks to Reggie reminds me of one of those billionaires Ava’s always stealing from. He’s forceful and clearly used to getting his way in everything. I can’t help wondering if he ever laughs.

They turn, and I snap out of my fantasies. Rowan apologizes for his rudeness (I don’t remember him being rude to me). We agree to meet tomorrow, and with that, he stalks away from us.

“Okay,” I whisper, watching the muscles in Reggie’s jaw move as he looks back toward the ballroom.

The game is on.

Duty

Rowan

The Technicolor-blue water of the Mediterranean is nearly blinding this morning. The salt in the air touches my tongue and fills my nose with scents of fish and days at sea. I imagine taking a boat and sailing far from this irritating place—a beautiful brunette stretched across the bow.

It’s true, my mind is miles away, focused on emerald-green eye

s, sweet olive skin, and pink lips that part to reveal a lovely white smile. I’ve been thinking about her all night, longing for her, if I’m honest. I escaped from the ball shortly after she left and returned to our estate at Occitan.

Relaxing under the warm spray of my shower, I slid my hand over my rigid cock, relieving my aching desire as I fantasized about the little dip where her collarbones meet at the base of her neck. I pictured tracing my tongue across the bead of her nipple, down to the curve of her waist.

My hand moved faster as I remembered her soft voice, imagined her cries as she came. The prospect of her long legs wrapped around me, being sunk deep into her clenching hot core, had me coming hard under the warm jets. Still, my hand is no comparison to what I imagine the real thing must be like…

I’ve stood here several minutes, quietly musing, when I realize Cal is standing beside me also silent, looking at the water in a pensive way—very unusual for him.

“I’m surprised you’re not giving me shit about the ball,” I say, interrupting his reverie.

Blinking out of it, he frowns up at me. “What’s that? Oh.” He nods. “I think you held up pretty well, considering the circumstances.”

“Well, that’s pretty lame of you.”

“Should I call you Cindy? Or do you prefer Ella.”

“There it is.” Grasping his shoulder, I catch sight of Reginald headed our way. “And here he is.” I straighten, all pleasurable thoughts gone.

Cal’s voice is low. “What the hell do you think he’s up to?”

“No telling, but I intend to keep my eye on him.”

“I’ll help with that.”

My uncle stops in front of us and does an obligatory bow. “Your highness. Thank you for meeting me.”

“You’re not supposed to be alone.” I’m only here because I had hoped to see Ava again.