Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(7)

Adrenaline surges through my body, and I do the dumbest thing I can: I open the stairwell door and fly upstairs—where all the bedrooms are. To the one place in the house where there’s no exit.

All the pain and terror from that night—the things I didn’t feel—rush through my body, two years late. I can barely make it up the steep, slick, hardwood stairs, my shoes slipping, my hand clawing the bannister. As I near the second-story doorway, I hear footsteps echo off the stairs behind me, and the rush through my head and chest is so strong I almost freeze, like in a nightmare.

A slap of cool air hits my cheeks as I burst into the upstairs hall. Right, then left. I don’t know where to go! I dart to the right—Dec’s bed had girls in it!—and time stretches into soup while my heart pounds and my hands fumble with the doorknob.

I’m so lost in my horror, I don’t notice someone is behind me until I hear a voice. I whirl.

“Whoa…” It’s the girl from downstairs. The drunken Playmate. Her arms are out, as if she wants to grab my shoulders. She holds her hands up as her eyes stretch wide. “Are you okay?”

I can’t think, just want to get away from her. Get inside the room to safety. I nod automatically, then rush inside Dec’s room. Where I blink at a tangle of bare bodies on the bed.

That guy’s not Dec…

The Playmate touches me, saying something. I back away, my feet moving me toward the wall as I stare at the scene in front of me.

The man-bun guy. That’s him, there in the middle. One blonde girl is licking at his chest. The other has her hand in his unzipped pants. So it doesn’t make a lot of sense to me that the guy’s eyes are widened in alarm. His hands are pushing at the girls.

The Playmate touches my arm, then tries to wrap her arm around me. I can’t help it: I start sobbing.

Distantly, I’m aware of people moving. I sense more than see Man Bun moving toward me, and for some reason, that makes me cry harder. I hear his low voice vibrate through the air and hear the Playmate say something. But I’m not processing.

“I’m so tired,” I murmur, tugging on his hand. “Let’s lay down for just a minute.”

“There’s a party going on downstairs.”

“I know…but you’re the host. Surely you can take a minute off. Don’t you want to snuggle with your girlfriend?”

“No. I don’t.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest before he throws me on his big bed. “I want to fuck my girlfriend.”

I land on my back and bounce, then pull myself up, hands over my knees. “Bryce, I’m tired. I was up all night talking to Maggie about Benjamin.”

His eyes go weird. At first, I think it’s something to do with Maggie, but as he crawls toward me, taking my arms in big hands, I forget about them. “All the better.” Bryce squeezes my wrists.

“What do you mean, all the better?” I try to tug away from him, but Bryce won’t let me go. He does this sometimes. Like he’s playing around, but it’s just…weird.

I pull a little harder. “Bryce, that hurts! Lay down with me and I’ll jerk you off if you’re so horny.”

“I don’t need that, Lucy. I’ve got my own hands.”

My heart is pounding as I pull against his grip. “I’ve got a mouth.” My voice is shaking. His eyes are still weird. Like…over-focused. “Bryce…this isn’t funny. Let my arms go.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Let go!”

He laughs as I kick at him. “You never give it to me when I want it. You’re a tease.”

“No I’m not. You’re freaking me out.”

He pulls me closer. “I’m your boyfriend, Lucy…”

His hands are on my arms. He smells like sweat and soap. I come to in a rush of awareness and sensation, finding Man Bun right in front of me. His face is kind. Concerned. His hazel eyes are caring. Gentle. My eyes roll down his thick chest.

I press my back against the wall. That tattoo on his chest… The one with the bird. The crown.

I suck back a deep breath as my body starts to hum. “Are— You’re…” I blink up at his face. Familiar face. My mind is still muddled. Am I going crazy?

His lips quirk as a smile plays at their corners. “Who am I?”

“Prince Liam?”

The smile on his lightly bearded face is as radiant as I’d imagined—maybe more. “You found me out,” he murmurs.

I blink at him. Prince Liam. But it’s weird, because his hair is lighter. Longer. And he has that scruffy beard.

“You’re—” I swallow hard, to soothe my tight throat. “What did you do to your hair?” I hear myself say in a cracking voice.

He laughs. “You don’t like it?”

His hand rubs over it, revealing his thick bicep and the hair under his arm.

“It’s long,” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He smiles, and it’s that smile. The rueful, sweet, shy smile. The one I always figured I’d imagined when I saw it online. “I grew it out when I was traveling.”

I nod mutely. Prince Liam’s world tour. I can feel my gaze drawn down his body like a magnet. I don’t let it go there, so I don’t look—not really—but I see the darkness of his boxer-briefs. They’re charcoal-black. Crown Jewels.