The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

His expression i

mmediately sobering, he skipped down the steps separating them. Without any thought, his hands were cupping her jaw, and his mouth was on hers. He kissed away all of his confusion and doubts, finding answers he hadn’t realized he was looking for. She melted against him, pliant. When her arms wrapped around him, he gently pushed her back, pinning her with his body. She molded to him perfectly, like she’d been created with him in mind or he had been fashioned specifically for her. With their lips fused and tongues dancing, Tristan could believe they had been made for each other, could forget all the differences and potential problems, could see past the crown to the woman destined to wear it.

He finally came up for air, raining tiny kisses on her jaw, down her neck. He nudged the hoodie aside and skimmed his teeth along her collarbone. Everything about her was already familiar—her scent, his favorite spot on her body, her exaltation when he nipped her with his teeth, her hands gripping him.

The opening and closing of the door on another floor broke them apart. Tristan straightened and listened to the pounding of feet. Stuck between two floors, he was relieved to note the people were below them. Grabbing her hand, he tugged her up the steps. He ignored the flash of panic he saw in her eyes and calmly led them out of the stairwell. Looking both ways, he led the way to his room. Reaching for his key card, he slid it in front of the lock and pushed the door open. He escorted Ele forward with a hand on the small of her back. He was about to step inside when he glanced up and saw Rowan and Caleb looking at him from down the hall.

Caleb practically screamed, “Did you just sneak a woman into your room?”

Tristan closed his eyes, praying for some serenity. He heard a smack and opened them to see Rowan shoving Caleb back into the room. Protesting loudly, Caleb went. But Rowan leveled Tristan with a disappointed look. Shaking his head, Rowan followed Caleb and shut the door.

“Bloody hell,” Tristan muttered.

When he entered his room, Ele was standing in the foyer, the same wide-eyed look plastered on her face.

“That’s not good,” she stated, wringing her hands.

“It’s not bad either. Caleb and Rowan are my mates. They are not going to say anything.”

“Do you think they know who I am?”

He could be honest and tell her he was pretty sure Rowan knew, but her panic was already skyrocketing. So, he lied, “No way. You can’t see your face with that cap. To Caleb, you were just a girl.”

He was sure he’d seen anxiety a moment before, but when their gazes locked, there was more annoyance than anything.

“Because you just bring random girls to your room often?”

Tristan suppressed his laughter—barely. He obviously wasn’t the only one with a possessive streak. He stepped forward with deliberation, stalking her. She must have noted his intent because her hands landed on her hips, and her eyes narrowed. He was almost to her when she held up her hand in that way she had when she was in tiara mode. He had the same reaction he’d had the night before and in the locker room all those months ago. He might be able to handle it in those instances—or, he might be able to figure out how to handle her royal attitude. But here, in his room, when all he wanted was to get his hands on her, she was not in charge.

He took hold of her wrist and pushed it behind her back, pulling her flush against him. A sound of indignation fell from her lips before it melted into a sigh of pleasure. He was hard against her, indicating her power play wasn’t necessarily too much for him to take. Her free hand dangled uselessly against her side, so he wound his fingers through hers.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Tristan found himself saying. All day, he’d wanted to talk to her, but he hadn’t really known what he was going to say. That it was an apology falling from his mouth surprised him.

Ele went up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “It was my fault,” she murmured against his mouth. “I default. When I’m nervous or caught off guard, my inclination is to duck behind my crown.”

“Tiara mode,” he said.

Ele dropped back to flat feet, peering at him. “Tiara mode?”

Then, she cracked up, her whole body shaking. He pulled her tighter to him, and she lay her forehead on his chest.

Ah, that laugh.

When she settled, she said, “I think I’ve laughed more in the last two days than I have in years.”

The thought saddened him.

“Jamie is going to love that phrase, by the way.”

When he’d pulled her into his arms, he’d intended to get her naked as soon as possible. But he realized there was more to discuss than they’d gone over last night. It wasn’t enough to wait for the Bat-Signal from Robert for him to follow their predetermined routine to see each other. What if she needed him or, like today, he needed to talk to her? There had to be some way for them to talk to each other without a middleman.

He released her arm from behind her back and nodded to the bed. “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly and then sat down on the bed. She kicked off her shoes and folded her legs in front of her. She looked like a kid instead of a woman who’d just returned from a state dinner at the consulate.

“Today was interesting,” he began.

She smirked. “Yes, it looked like you were really put off when you were on the Ferris wheel.”