The Billionaire King’s Heir (European Billionaire Beaus 3)

It’s only a game, Felicity told herself. Hope certainly won’t know the difference—and you’re doing this to make her happy.

“Now we pour for all our friends,” she said to Hope, who was still watching her like a hawk. She poured the rest of the tea, offered milk and sugar, and sat down in her seat around the little table, back straight. Hope climbed into the chair next to her. “In order to drink our tea…” She demonstrated the next move, lifting the cup from the saucer. “We lift our cup, drink…” Felicity took a sip of the “tea.” It was delicious. “Mmm. It’s very good.”

Hope copied her exactly. “Mmm. Is very good,” she repeated, and Felicity thought her heart would burst.

She guided Hope through picking a cookie from the assortment and refilling the teacups, and it wasn’t until she guided the conversation into completely appropriate small talk that she felt him there.

Rafael.

Felicity looked up into his face, her cheeks reddening, but his face was full of…pride.

“Hello,” she said, sitting straight and offering him her hand, bowing her head. “King Rafael. How lovely for you to stop by.” The words tasted so formal and odd in her mouth that the heat in her face kicked up another notch.

“That was perfect,” he said, and she could hear the sincerity ringing in his voice.

> “Oh,” she said, waving him off. “It was nothing. We were just having a tea party, weren’t we, Hope?” She smiled down at her daughter.

“No,” protested Rafael. “You were flawless. The serving, the conversation…” He trailed off as if he didn’t know quite what to say. Felicity knew better. It would be a little rude, wouldn’t it, to remark on how terribly she’d struggled with the other lessons in royalty? Even with this lesson—when practiced in a different context?

In any case, she couldn’t stop smiling. “Anyone for more tea? Rafael?”

* * *

He couldn’t believe it.

Felicity had served the tea like she’d been doing it all her life.

Hope gave a yawn, and Sara was there in an instant, scooping the little girl up from her chair. “Naptime,” she called cheerfully, and bent down so Felicity could kiss Hope’s cheek. Then they were gone, bustling out the door.

“I’ve got some things to catch up on, now that the party’s over,” said Joy, wheeling herself after them. “Don’t let that tea go to waste.” She winked, and then she was gone, too.

“You did well,” said Rafael, and Felicity stood up.

“Thank you.” She kept her eyes firmly on the table, on the tea set and cups and saucers, still mostly filled with lemonade. “I should get this cleaned up and—”

“No.” He knew he shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t touch her. But he couldn’t stop himself from putting a hand on her elbow. “You were wonderful.”

Felicity met his eyes, her own gaze hot. She licked her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue and Rafael wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to run his own tongue over that lip. “Thank you for noticing,” she whispered. Rafael’s hand was still on her arm, and Felicity took one step forward, closing the distance between them.

His own breath seemed rough and ragged in his throat, and the air was charged with an energy that left him feeling like there wasn’t quite enough oxygen in the room. Felicity didn’t pull away, and he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against the soft skin of her cheek.

She closed her eyes, her head falling back ever so slightly, and Rafael felt the urge to ignore the guidelines that had kept them at arm’s length.

He bent his head to her neck.

There were rules. Rafael had come up with a strict set of rules for himself. They would not get physical during this time. There would be proximity—of course there would, now that Felicity was living in the palace and Rafael was trying to find his place in Hope’s life. Hugging—that was permitted. A steadying arm around the other person’s waist—permitted.

But this?

This crossed the line.

There was not supposed to be any kissing. He was not supposed to be brushing his lips along the delicate flesh of her neck. Rafael pressed one kiss to the throb of her pulse beneath her skin. Felicity let out a sigh that nearly undid him then and there.

“Oh, you can’t do that. You can’t be the only one who’s doing that,” she murmured, and then she hooked an arm around his head and pulled him down to her level. She took his earlobe between her teeth, barely applying any pressure, and sheer desire shot straight through his body and to his cock.

“Unfair,” he said, and Felicity laughed, low and sensual. He still didn’t dare kiss her lips—he still felt those rules forming a structure around them that shouldn’t be breached—but that didn’t rule out tugging down the front of her dress a few inches to expose the line of her collarbone. It was a risk, but one he could hardly bear not to take. Still—he could not risk getting hurt. He couldn’t risk looking weak in front of the country, for one thing, and on a deeper level, he couldn’t risk his heart. Not again.

He released her dress, pressing it up into place even while she stood there, trembling, her eyelids fluttering. They were in the playroom, which was not exactly a private space. Modesty was going to be important to maintain.