Royal Pain Page 12

  The meeting goes on for an hour after that as all sides discuss the logistics of what my father and I are asking. And though I pay close attention, there’s a part of me that keeps wondering if seventy-two hours is going to be too late. Or, worse, if we’re already too late.

  If maybe Garrett is already dead and I just don’t want to admit it.

  Chapter 18

  Savvy

  I wait all day for Kian to call, but he never does. Not that I really expected him to. He’s got other things way more important than me to deal with right now. It’s just…it’s just I really wanted him to call. Really wanted to know that last night meant something to him.

  Which is stupid, I know. And unfair to Kian, considering he might have just gotten a lead on his missing brother—who also happens to be the heir to the Wildermar throne.

  Garrett’s kidnapping shocked the nation, threw the country’s financial markets into absolute chaos and turned a lot of other things inside out. Including Kian’s life.

  Because not only does he now have to deal with his private grief over his missing twin, but he also has to take on the duties of that twin and help steer the nation through the crisis. It’s a lot for anyone to deal with. Expecting him to worry about my feelings on top of all of that…it’s ridiculous, not to mention selfish.

  I know all this. I really do. And I believe it one hundred and ten percent. But knowing it doesn’t stop me from checking my phone every fifteen minutes—even while I’m tending bar—on the off chance that I might have missed a text or a phone call from him.

  Which I didn’t.

  When two A.M. rolls around with still no word from Kian, I tell myself it’s no big deal. Tell myself that it doesn’t matter. That I’m expecting too much from a guy I’ve only slept with once.

  It’s just…I really like him. I shouldn’t, but I do. And just once, I’d like someone that I care about to care about me the same way. To treat me with the same respect and concern that I try to treat them with.

  No matter what that movie says, sometimes a guy not calling isn’t a sign that he’s not into you. Sometimes he really is just busy—especially if he’s second in charge of running an actual country. Or at least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

  Except, as I walk out to my car, I know that even that’s not true. It’s only been twenty hours since Kian walked out of my kitchen and into my head, and I’ve already let him go. Already convinced myself that he’s moved on like everybody else in my life. Already believe that I don’t matter to him any more than I’ve ever mattered to anyone.

  After all, why should His Royal Hotness be any different than everyone else in my life?

  As I get to my car, I can’t help pulling out my phone one more time, can’t help checking my messages one more time. Can’t help being disappointed when there’s nothing there. It’s not exactly a big freaking surprise, but still…

  The drive home only takes about ten minutes—the great thing about a middle of the night commute is no traffic—and as I pull onto my street, I promise myself that I’m going to curl up on the couch with a pint of butter pecan ice cream and my poetry journal. Lately I’ve spent so much of my free time doing research for the mystery novel I’m about to start that I haven’t actually written anything for weeks.

  Tonight, I’m determined to change that.

  But as I pull up to my house, a familiar, black Bentley SUV is sitting at the curb. My heart starts to beat a little faster and suddenly ice cream is the last thing on my mind.

  He came. He really came.

  I pull into my driveway on autopilot, park the same way. I’m still trying to figure out what to say, how to act, when I climb out of the car. But my time is up because Kian’s already here, standing next to me. Closing my car door with a smile. Wrapping me up in a hug that smells a lot like home, and feels that way, too.

  Shit. I’m so completely screwed.

  The knowledge doesn’t stop me from burying my face against his neck, doesn’t stop me from breathing in the warm orange and bergamot smell of him as he holds me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.

  “Sorry I didn’t call,” he says as he starts to pull away. I want to hold on to him a little longer, want to feel him against me and revel in the fact that he’s real. That he’s here. “But by the time I got free of meetings—and a rousing fight with the king—I was afraid you’d already left for work and I didn’t want to bother you there.”

  Trust him to make all those hours of angst and worry seem like the stupidest thing in the world with him trying to be all respectful of my work situation. The jerk. Not.

  “No problem. I figured you’d get around to me when you had time.”

  “Get around to you? I spent all day thinking about you, wishing that we were still tucked up in your bed, eating snickerdoodles and talking about anything and everything.”

  I do laugh, then, because right now His Royal Hotness sounds downright domesticated, and we both know how untrue that is. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? Eating snickerdoodles?”

  He laughs, too. “I think they still call it all kinds of things, but I was actually talking about your cookies.”

  “Oh, I know you were,” I tease as I take his hand and lead him up the walk to my house. Avery and Niall are already on the front porch waiting for us.

  “What can I say?” His grin is downright wicked. “You make really good cookies.”

  “She does,” Avery agrees out of nowhere. “They’re amazing.”

  I manage to keep a straight face, but Kian cracks up. Even Niall snickers, which only makes poor Avery look even more confused.

  “Ignore them,” I tell him, patting his arm. “They’re a bunch of adolescents. But if you tell me your favorite cookie, I’ll make you a batch tomorrow.”

  “Hey, I like cookies!” Niall complains. “You could make me a batch, too.”

  I shoot him an arch look. “I only make cookies for nice boys.”

  He snorts. “I happen to know that’s not true.” He looks pointedly at his employer before ducking into my house to make sure no assassins are lying in wait for the prince.

  “I’m a big fan of chocolate chip,” Avery says as he follows him inside. “And I’m a very good boy.”

  Kian rolls his eyes behind Avery’s back, then bends down and picks a large bag off the ground. “I swear, you’ve bewitched my entire detail.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’d have to be magic to bewitch anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure you are magic.” He leans forward, presses a quick kiss to my mouth. “I’m serious. When he found out I planned to come back over here tonight, I think Lucas was upset it was his night off.”

  “Of course he was. Who wouldn’t be upset about not getting the chance to spend the night in a cramped SUV? I line up for the chance at least once a week. Obviously.”

  “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one day.” He smooths his thumb along my lower lip. “You know that, right?”

  “I’m pretty sure what you mean is that my mouth is going to get you in trouble one day.”

  Kian grins. “Maybe that is what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.” I wrap a hand around the back of his neck, start to pull his lips down to mine, but Niall and Avery choose that moment to clomp back onto the porch.

  “All clear,” Niall says cheerfully. He’s holding my cookie jar in his hands. “Hope you don’t mind. All that talk of cookies made me hungry.”

  Kian looks amused, Avery looks appalled and I can’t stop laughing. I’m beginning to realize I’m as nuts about Kian’s detail as I am about him, which is crazy and delightful and a little terrifying, all at the same time.

  I don’t remember much about Garrett’s bodyguards, but I know they weren’t this much fun. Then again, neither was Garrett. He was always too wrapped up in the appearance of being princely to ever forget himself—even for a second—and just be human.

  Kian, on the oth
er hand, seems to forget that he’s a prince more times than not.

  “What are your favorite cookies?” I ask Niall. “I can make a batch for you tomorrow, too.”

  “Seriously?” His whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Peanut butter with those little chocolate kisses on top.”

  “Jesus, Niall,” Kian says. “Specific much?”

  It’s Niall’s turn to blush. “Is that too much? I mean, peanut butter cookies are fine. Or chocolate chip. Whatever—”

  “Are you kidding? Peanut butter with chocolate kisses are my favorite, too,” I fib. “I’ll make a double batch and we can stuff ourselves tomorrow night.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Niall says with a grin. “I’ll bring the milk.”

  “What am I supposed to bring then?” Avery asks plaintively.

  “Me!” Kian says, knocking shoulders with him. “You’re supposed to bring me.”

  “Oh, right.” Avery rolls his eyes. “I can do that.”

  Niall pats him on the back. “Was that sarcasm I just heard? Aren’t you afraid our illustrious prince is going to turn you into a pumpkin?”

  “He’s a prince, not my fairy godmother,” Avery answers as he tries to reach into the cookie jar.

  “We’re going inside now.” Kian tugs me toward the house.

  “Have a good night!” I manage to call over my shoulder before he slams the door in their faces. “That was rude,” I told him.

  “They’ll survive,” he answers as he makes his way to the kitchen, bag in hand. “I brought food, by the way. Figured you’d be hungry after work.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “And you didn’t have to let Niall abscond with your cookie jar. But you did.” He drops the bag on my counter and then wraps both arms around my waist and pulls me against him. “Besides, it’s the least I can do considering I’m hoping you’ll let me sleep in your bed again tonight.”

  “Don’t you have a bed in your own house?” I ask, tongue in cheek.

  “Sure I do. But it’s lonely. And cold. And it’s four hundred years old. Yours is much more comfortable.”

  “I’m sure.” I press kisses to his jaw, marveling once again at the perfect line of it. “You don’t actually think I’m going to buy this sob story, do you?”

  “It’d be helpful if you did.”

  “I bet. Nobody likes to sleep in an uncomfortable bed.”

  He grins. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  “So, that’s what we’d be doing then? Sleeping?”

  “Well, sleeping and some other stuff…if you’re interested.” He slides his hands down to cup my ass.

  “Oh, I’m definitely interested. But Niall absconded with the last of the snickerdoodles, so what are we supposed to do instead?”

  “I’m really glad you asked.” His grin goes from amused to wicked, and he starts backing me out of the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple ideas I’d like to run by you, if you’ve got time.”

  “Oh, I’ve got the time.” I wind my arms around his neck as he maneuvers me down the hall to the bedroom. “But what about dinner?”

  “Fuck dinner,” he growls, all deep and gravelly. “I’ve got way more interesting plans for your mouth.”

  “Isn’t that a coincidence? So do I.”

  Chapter 19

  Kian

  I don’t know where this need has come from, if it’s always been inside me waiting for the right person to let it out or if it’s new because I finally met Savvy. All I know is that it’s been burning me alive since I first saw her at that gala and it shows no signs of quitting now that I’m so close to having every part of her.

  For a second, just a second, Garrett pops into my head and I wonder if he felt the same way about her. If this raging fever in my blood, this unquenchable need I have for her, is something he had, too. But if he did, why would he give this up? Why would he give her up? It makes no sense, but then, none of this does.

  Nothing does but Savvy and the need I have for her.

  I move forward, move her backward, until she is pressed up against the back wall of the kitchen. Then, for long seconds, I don’t do anything else. I just stand there, savoring the feel of all those lush curves of hers resting so gloriously against me.

  I want to touch her, to wrap myself up in her softness until my senses are glutted with her. Overloaded. But I’m trembling like a kid, my need making it impossible to think, to breathe. To plan. I want all of her at the same time, need to kiss and touch and fuck her until I’m nearly insane with it.

  Control, I remind myself as I press kisses down her throat. It’s all about control.

  But then she gasps, arches, and my very last remnants of control shatter like glass.

  My hands go to the collar of her shirt and I yank it apart, taking a primitive kind of satisfaction in the way the fabric tears and falls right off her body, baring her to my desperate gaze. She’s beautiful, so beautiful with her full breasts pressed up against a black lace bra only a few shades darker than her eyes.

  The lace is open enough that I can see her nipples through the cups and I reach out, run a finger over one hard peak. Revel in her gasp and the need that vibrates so violently between us.

  “Kian,” she gasps, her hands clutching at my shoulders, tangling in my hair. “I want to touch you, too.” She arches into my touch even as she says the words that ratchet me up another ten notches.

  I’m done going slow, done worrying about Garrett and the past when everything I need is right here in front of me. Once my brother is back home, the future can take care of itself. Right now, Savvy is hot and trembling in my arms, as desperate for me as I am for her and I’m going to take her. Going to make her mine.

  I don’t tell her that, though, at least not with words. Instead I grab her wrists, raise them above her head. Then lean down and capture her mouth with my own, using lips and tongue and teeth to claim her in a way she won’t soon forget. A way I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

  But, God, she tastes good. Spicy and sweet and delicious, like strawberries and cream drizzled with warm summer honey.

  I suck at her lower lip, revel in the gasp she can’t stop and the way her wrists jerk against my hold. My cock screams for relief at the movement, but I shove the need down as far as I can manage. I’ve spent all day fantasizing about this, and I’m not about to rush it.

  Besides, this is different than all those times with all those other women whose names and faces I can’t remember. I want so much more now than to just get myself off. This, tonight, is about Savvy. About making her feel good. About arousing her to fever pitch and then drenching her in so much pleasure she can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel.

  And, I admit to myself as I pull her lower lip between my teeth and lave it with my tongue in an effort to stop the ache, I want to control her. To drive her beyond reason, beyond boundaries, beyond sanity until she wants me like I want her. Until she needs me like she needs her next breath…the way I’m discovering that I need her.

  I nibble at her lip again, and she goes wild, her lush, strong body bucking against me. Once again, her wrists jerk against my grip, but I’m still not ready to let her go. Can’t let her go. One touch from her soft, slender fingers and this will be over before it ever really starts.

  So I keep her pinned against the wall, using my hand and chest and hips. Make sure that she feels me against her from her shoulders to her toes. And then I devour her.

  “Kian,” she gasps, her head rolling back and forth against the light blue wall. “Hurry up. Please. I’m going crazy—” Her breath breaks on a half-sigh, half-sob.

  “I like you crazy,” I answer, then take advantage of her parted lips to thrust my tongue inside. She feels like silk. Like velvet. Softer than anything I’ve ever felt. Hotter than anything I’ve ever dreamed.

  She moans and I try to gentle myself a little, to give her the tenderness she deserves. But then she sucks my tongue deeper into her mouth and dr
ags me under. I’m desperate, lost, drowning in sensation. Drowning in her as my shitty day disappears and all that is left is Savvy and the heat flowing between us.

  She digs her nails into the backs of my hands, just little pricks of want, of demand, and loses it completely. Need explodes deep inside me, sharp and terrible and all-consuming. It rakes its talons down my spine, thrusts its heat so deep all I can think of is taking her, fucking her. Branding her.

  She must feel the same way, because she’s clutching at me, wrapping herself around me as she slides her hands up my neck to my scalp. She digs in a little, small pinpricks from her fingernails that mix pain and desire, control and overwhelming need. And then she nips at me the same way I did her, teeth closing on my lower lip in a sharp demand I’m helpless to resist.

  Lust explodes through me and I tighten my hold on her wrists, knocking her head into the wall in my desperation to get at her. I start to apologize, to ease off, but she twines herself around me and the last rational thought I can form is buried under an onslaught of want.

  Burying my other hand in the long, sleek silk of her hair, I tilt her head back and feast. And when she sucks my lip between hers, I open to her, nearly fall to my knees when she thrusts her tongue into my mouth to explore mine as I did hers.

  I take her wild exploration as long as I can—reveling in the fact that her need is as sharp as my own—but it seems like mere moments before I’m at the breaking point. Tearing my mouth from hers, I ignore her pleading little moan and the desperate clutching of her fingers at my back.

  Instead, I press kisses down her jaw to the graceful curve of her neck, before moving on to the sharp angles of her collarbone. She’s soft and sweet and strong in my arms, and for a second—just a second—I’m overwhelmed by the need to take care of her. To protect her from everything, especially all the shit that comes with my fucked-up, public life.