Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(9)

But…Lucy doesn’t. If anything, I think I feel her settle as I play through her thick, shiny locks and rub her scalp. She doesn’t have to know it’s a move I perfected for the women sucking my cock. I’ve never asked them how they like it, but it must be nice, because I feel her muscles slacken. Feel her sink a little deeper into the downy mattress.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to bother yeh.” I don’t know why I say the words. I don’t know why they come out so damn Scottish. I did most of my schooling in the states, then London for a bit before I left uni. But I’m from Gael, still. I suppose we do sound Scottish…

I can feel her shoulders sink with her low exhalation.

So it eased her.

Maybe so.

I hope so.

I stroke her hair away from her face and am rewarded by the peek of her delicate ear. It’s so tiny, so…pretty, if an ear can be so. It’s a struggle not to kiss her there, to kiss her milky throat. I’m hard again, and feeling like a bastard.

Beautiful…

I want to say the word, but hold it in. She doesn’t care right now. Whatever’s happened, being gorgeous isn’t on her mind.

And yet she is. She’s just as lovely as she was on my flatscreen, back when I used to jerk off to her in her bathing suit by her family’s pool.

I try to make up for it now by being gentle with her hair. She doesn’t move, not for a long time underneath my hand. I feel a bit of pride. I’ve got her quiet. Maybe she’s feeling better now. Her name is on my tongue—I’m going to ask her what’s upset her—when I hear a little snort.

I stand still and listen, feel the movement of her breathing.

And there it is again: another tiny snore.

Lucy Rhodes just fell asleep in my bed.





FOUR Lucy





After Prince Liam left, I curled up on the bed. I pulled the thick, crimson duvet over myself, so no one stumbling into the room would see my gown if it rides up, revealing my black thong. So if Bryce followed me up here, there’d be some small barrier between us—this time.

Then I just lay there, my heart pounding so fast I could feel it in my throbbing eyes, my hands shaking so much I balled them up and tucked them against my chest. I couldn’t get my breath—at all. It was worse than when the prince and his women gawked at me. So much worse being alone.

And right then, as if God himself was watching over me, I felt something hard against my temple. My shaky hands fumbled in the silk sheets, picking out a bottle of…scotch? I couldn’t read the label. Wasn’t even sure the language. I twisted the top off and confirmed my guess. Then I took a few long swigs.

I wasn’t usually one to drink my blues away, but it helped me feel more steady. Steady and calm enough to crawl up to the pillows, press my cheek into the cold silk, and cry.

Everything is warm and bleary now. Even my fear…

I should go downstairs, but I can’t seem to get my tears to stop falling. I sift back through the blankets, find the scotch, have a little more. It feels like fire singing my throat and stomach. But I like it. I feel better. Just a little better. I curl up, my last thought heralded with a little smile—Prince Liam, of all people. He was nice, I think numbly.

And so when I wake up, at first I think I’m dreaming. Him here in the room with me—alone. I’m staring at his chest. His arms are thicker than I thought they would be. And his hair… He’s got long, lighter hair. A scruffy beard. He looks swarthy, like a pirate. Like a traveler.

Humiliation chills my lust. That he saw me so freaked out. That anybody saw me. I can’t look at him. Knowing that he used to watch me on TV makes it that much worse. I’m not that girl. And that’s the real reason, the reason that I’ve stayed away. I moved to Colorado. Because I’m not, I’ll never be that girl again. I can’t go back. They think they know me but they don’t. My mind whirls. I’m still fuzzy from the scotch.

I don’t feel fear when he sinks down beside me on the mattress. His hand touches my hair. My heart beats hard, but there’s no fear. His voice is soft. His voice is beautiful. And I don’t care. I just don’t care—about anything.

Tears drip from my eyes as his hand strokes. He’s gentle, oh so gentle, and he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about me. What he’s getting into, even being in this room with me. I’m not a normal girl, not anymore. And he’s a prince.

I’m drunk. With that thought, I slip off.





*





I awaken in darkness.

The room is pitch black, and someone’s arm is locked around me. For a blind, horrific second, fear grips my heart, so hard and painful that I gasp.

And then I smell him. I’m not sure exactly where I am right at his moment. But I smell aftershave and soap, a little bit of sunscreen and a little bit of sweat, and my body knows it’s him.

Prince Liam.

Liam, prince of the Isle of Gael, is lying in this bed behind me. A few careful, quiet breaths and I’m pretty sure…he’s sleeping.

Holy Hello Kitty. Prince Liam is sleeping next to me. My body flushes, bliss and horror.

How’d we get here? What the hell is going on? And then I feel his fingers in my hair. His hand is in my hair—right now! He fell asleep rubbing my hair.