Royal Treatment (Royals of Danovar 2)

Although he certainly had some ideas for some very, very fun ways to get her messy.

Her eyes flicked down to the knots and then back up to him, half-lidded with desire. When she bit her bottom lip it nearly did him in. Unable to wait another second, he leaned over across the arms of their chairs and slowly, gently, captured her lips with his.

She exhaled sharply with pleasure, and her fingers curled around the ends of the chair’s arms. “Oh,” she sighed softly, her lips parting with the word. He angled his mouth lightly across hers, forcing himself to keep it chaste and gentle even though that little sigh of hers had him wanting to take the kiss deeper, to let his mouth show her how much she turned him on. His cock was hardening already, throbbing in response to her surprised delight—but this was her first kiss, and he didn’t want her to get scared off if he got too intense too quickly. Plus, this was all still in the name of flirting lessons, not anything official. She was practicing for when she kissed another man.

At that thought, his hands tightened on her wrists. Forget chaste and gentle, he suddenly wanted to show her how good making out could be. How good making out with him could be. He took advantage of her open mouth, swept his tongue over her bottom lip, deepened the kiss just a touch and moved one of his hands to her collarbone. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hand and her breaths came in pants, and he wanted to shout in victory again as she leaned into him. He felt invincible, all-powerful. How was it she could do that, with nothing more than her kiss?

He needed more of her. He needed to show her how much he wanted her right now, needed to show her how desirable she truly was. The collar of her shirt was slightly open, the top button left undone, and he traced his thumb across her collarbone, down into that little dip above her sternum. The feel of her skin was intoxicating, smooth and silky. He wanted to memorize every freckle, every curve, every place where his touch made her shiver.

His hand dipped further down, skating over the top of her shirt now because he didn’t want to spook her by moving too quickly but damn, those perfect, perky breasts had been calling to him for ages. She must’ve been wearing a thin bra because he could feel her pebbled nipple through the fabric. He brushed his thumb over it and she caught her breath, making a tiny noise into his mouth, and fuck, he wanted to pull her up out of that chair and onto his lap and show her the best possible way make out sessions like this could end. He could see it in his mind’s eye: the way they would fit together, the arch her neck would make when she dropped her head back in mindless pleasure, the way it would feel to fill her, to feel her tighten around his hard cock. He would take that pebbled nipple into his mouth, make her cry out for him. He would make her pant and moan and cum until she couldn’t even think about ever kissing anyone else, anyone but him.

The analyzer dinged again, and the rattle and buzz of paper being printed jolted him from his fantasy.

He pulled back. Her lips were swollen, her eyes unfocused, her chest heaving with her uneven breaths. Her fingers were still curled tightly over the arms of her chair. After a moment they loosened, and she blinked rapidly a few times and shook herself. “The, uh, the results,” she said huskily, and cleared her throat.

“I’d say the results were quite good,” Eric replied smugly.

She blinked again and then pressed her lips together against a smile as her breathing slowed back to normal. Ever the studious scientist, even in the face of what they’d just done—and what she’d just done for the first time ever—she fiddled with the yarn tying her down until the neat bows came undone and then swept up the analyzer printout. Eric noticed, though, that it took her twice as long to read the first page as it normally did.

He scooted a little further away to shut down the analyzer for the night, giving his body time to settle before he got up and tugged his jacket on. As much as he wanted to sit back down and continue tonight’s lesson until neither of them could think straight, he needed to respect the terms of their agreement. She hadn’t given any indication that she was ready to take things further yet, and anyway, he was supposed to be teaching her about seduction, which was all about delayed gratification.

But by all that was holy—he hoped she would be ready for part two of this session soon, because he had never been less a fan of delayed gratification than he was at this moment.

8

Anna paced outside the castle gate, cursing the security guard. Surely it shouldn’t take this long to check that she was who she said she was, and that she had permission to visit the castle whenever she wanted. She was the Queen’s sister, for crying out loud. And never mind that both Ella and Eric had asked her to get an official ID made, which would’ve avoided this whole hassle. She’d been busy trying to cure cancer. She could hardly be expected to drop everything to fill out yet more paperwork to get yet another ID.

She groaned, wanting to smack herself. Of course it was her fault. She should’ve unglued herself from her workstation long enough to follow her sister’s requests long ago, but it was too late now, at least for today. She had some results she wanted to show Eric, and she knew he’d mentioned having plans with friends this afternoon. Hopefully she could still catch him before he left.

She marched back up to the guard station and gave the man a death glare. He fumbled the phone as he dialed, stammering a question to the supervisor on the other end. It would be her luck she’d get the new guy.

“Everything okay?” asked a voice from her side. She glanced over at another man, who appeared to also be waiting for security clearance.

“Yes, it’s just taking longer than I thought,” she said shortly, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.

But: “I know, right?” the man answered. “Between you and me, Saturdays are the best days to visit. Fred is always on duty then, he gets things done much faster.”

She stared at him. Small talk. He was making small talk. Okay, it was okay, she could do this—she’d prepped for situations like this with Eric. She shuffled through her mental flash cards of appropriate tones and topics. According to her homework, this situation called for agreement and a friendly, open-ended question that would allow the conversation to continue if the other party so desired. “That’s a good tip. Do you come here often, then?” she answered after a second, and was relieved when he smiled back easily.

“Pretty frequently,” he said. “Though my schedule got thrown off a bit this time around because of the match this weekend.”

“The match?” she asked blankly.

“Yeah. Rugby. It was England versus Scotland on Saturday and oh man, wasn’t that scrum amazing?” He whistled. “I missed my standing appointment here, but damn was it worth it.”

“Oh! Of course, that scrum was absolutely amazing,” she said, internally panicking. She didn’t know anything about rugby. None of her small talk lessons had covered it, and she wasn’t exactly the sporty type. It was like football, right? Only more dangerous, or muddier, or with fewer people or more people or something?

“Hey,” the man said then, “you’re that researcher, aren’t you? The one Prince Eric has been funding?”

r /> “Yes!” she yelped, grabbing onto the more familiar topic with both hands. Research, she knew how to talk about. “I mean, yes, that’s right, I’m Dr. Anna Fernstone. Eric and I have been working together,” she said, forcing her voice to a more subdued, normal tone.

“How’s that going? Working with him must be fun, if the tabloids are anything to go by.”

Anna flashed back to the mani-pedi, to the feel of yarn around her wrists and his lips on hers. He’d smelled like peppermint and something musky and intoxicating. And the way his thumb had brushed over her nipple…her core tightened at the memory. Thanks to Eric, her first kiss had been sexy, amazing, magical. She’d ended the night aching for his touch, wishing she would’ve asked him to take the lesson further. “You could say that,” she answered the man. “Fun is definitely what Prince Eric does best.”

The guard called her name and she parted ways with her small-talk partner, relieved that her first round of unexpected real-world practice hadn’t been a complete disaster. But by the time she made it to Eric’s suite, she was overthinking the whole conversation, picking apart her flaws and weak spots.

“I need to know more about rugby,” she blurted when Eric opened the door.