The Princess and the Player (Royally Pitched 1)

He hadn’t asked her about them. Because every moment he’d been with her recently, he’d been more interested in getting inside of her. Bringing up the painful things she carried was like asking to help with the burden, and he wasn’t sure they were there. The dossier Robert had given him lay unopened, stuffed away in the tiny safe in his room.

Ele missed a step in her walking, the easy pace momentarily interrupted.

When she didn’t answer, Tristan said, “Should I have not asked?”

She stopped, and when he pulled up, she turned to face him. “I haven’t had one since the changing room at St. Peter’s.”

“Really? What’s normal for you?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, biding time. “I don’t know if there is a normal.”

“Does it happen often?”

“Enough that it feels like it. I used to count the days in between. Every day without one seemed like a victory. It was like a mind game. At the end of the day, when I didn’t have one, I would have a one-person party or, if Jamie was around, a two-person party.”

He thought telling her about the file, seeing if it would get her to talk to him. But he stopped himself. This thing between them had an expiration date. They started walking again, by some silent, mutual agreement.

“We leave for Colorado Springs in the morning.”

“Oh? That’s a change in the plan, right?”

“It is. Even though this is our home base for the duration of the tournament, Nico wants to train at altitude since our next game is in Denver.”

“So, I won’t see you.”

“No.”

She stopped again. “Were you going to tell me?”

“I was going to tell Robert.”

“I thought the sex part would be hard for me. I didn’t realize the intimacy would be so difficult.”

Tristan laughed. Then, when he saw the flash of hurt on her face, he worked hard to contain it. He understood what she was trying to say. They seemed to do things backward and upside down. He’d been briefed by the people who cared most about her, but he still didn’t know what had caused her to be the way she was. He had the means to find out, but he preferred for her to tell him. But he also realized he was afraid to know. He didn’t want to feel any more connected to her than he already did. It was way too much to think about for a protracted shag.

Instead, he sidled closer to her and slid his hands around her waist. He let the space remain between them, giving her the choice of closing the distance or adding more. She peered up at him, indecisive. And he got it. There were words left between them, words neither were ready to commit to. But kissing, the physical intimacies—those they’d mastered.

She stepped to him and relief swamped him. Anticipation built in his stomach as her hands slid up his chest to wrap around his neck. But when she lifted her chin and placed her lips against his, the onslaught of her heated kiss took over. He pulled her closer to him, fitting her body against his in the way it seemed to be made for. His tongue demanded entry, and when he sank into her mouth, it didn’t matter that this was temporary or that she didn’t want to share or that he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He absolutely wanted this, her. This he could focus on, so he didn’t have to contemplate how much he enjoyed her wit, how he loved the way she’d interacted with Annalise, how much he hated the thought of her being afraid of anything. When he touched her, it only had to be about this attraction and the way he felt when he was inside her.

He didn’t know how long they’d been kissing with the water lapping behind them. But when they came up for air, her lips were swollen and damp, and he wanted to dive right back in. Except there was curfew and a flight tomorrow and his responsibility to his teammates.

“I have to get back,” he said, regret heavy in his voice.

“Me too.” She smiled.

They turned around, lacing their fingers together again.

“Is Robert meeting you at the boardwalk?”

“Yes. And I have a phone now,” she said.

He looked over at her. “A phone with a number you know?”

A sheepish smile. “Yes.”

This time, Tristan stopped abruptly. He pulled out his phone and said, “What is it?”

She rattled off the number, and he added it.