PRINCE CHARMING: A Stepbrother Secret Baby Romance(15)

She turned around to stalk to her own rooms to change. The minute the rain had wet her shirt, she’d felt his eyes on her chest and saw the glimmer of longing in his eyes. Did he want to kiss her? Pull her close and hold her under an awning as the storm raged around them? Or maybe that was just her thoughts of him.

“Stupid. You are being absolutely stupid,” she muttered as she pushed open her doors, closed and locked them. The last thing she wanted was for him to barge in while she was changing.

First, she headed to the bathroom to grab a towel; she stripped her clothes off, dried her body, and attempted to deal with her mess of hair. The rain had made it go flat, and it was nothing more than a tangled mess. She glanced around for her hairbrush, but it wasn’t in the bathroom. Cursing, she saw it on her nightstand. Not even thinking, she rushed across the wood floor to grab it, but it was slick and she slipped and fell hard on her elbow.

“Damn it!” Pain ricocheted up her arm as she winced. At least no one had been around to see that not-too-graceful move by the future princess. She tried to get up, but the floor was so slick, her hand slipped out from under her and she fell back again, cursing even louder.

She lay there with a towel around her head and stared up at the ceiling. Laughter bubbled up until there was a knock at her bedroom door. Her laughter stopped, and she struggled to pull the towel over her naked body and get up again but failed and slipped for a third time. “Yes?”

“Just wanted to make sure you were alright. Sounds a bit violent in there.”

Quincy. Really? “I’m fine!” she called back. “Just slipped is all. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? Do you need help?”

“No,” she said as she managed to get almost to a standing position, but she took one step forward and slipped again. A few more words came out of her mouth that would make her mother blush. “What the hell are these floors made out of?”

“That’s it. I’m coming in to help you.”

“No! You can’t!” Olivia panicked as she looked around for anything to throw on, but nothing was close. “The door’s locked!”

“I’ve been picking locks since I was seven,” he said.

“I’m uh… I’m not exactly decent,” she called instead, and there was silence on the other side of the door. “Quincy? You still there?”

She thought she heard laughter, and he said, “Are you… uh, without clothes, Princess Olivia?”

“It’s not funny, you bastard,” she snapped. “I think I sprained my elbow.”

“Fine, I’m coming in to help you. I will close my eyes, I swear it.”

She wanted to argue with him, but this was getting ridiculous. Her elbow throbbed, and her whole arm had started to tingle in pain. “Fine, but if you look I’m going to rip out your eyes!”

“Threatening the crown prince? That’s not a good way to start your reign,” he jested. There was a rattling at the door, and Olivia heard the lock click. “My eyes are closed, just guide me with your voice. It’d be tragic to step on you.”

“That’s not funny,” she said, and he turned in her direction. He’d already changed into fresh clothes—simple slacks and a tight, white t-shirt—but Olivia took in every inch of him as he moved towards her, eyes shut tight. “You’re close, just be careful. The floor’s still wet.”

“How far away am I?”

“A few feet,” she said and held out her hand as she told him to hold out his towards the floor. “Walk forward a bit more and, hey great, you found me,” she said. “Now help me up.”

“Hard to do when I can’t see.”

She sighed and told him to put his other hand out so she could grab it. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said and slowly pulled her up. She started to slip again, and his hand slid down to her sprained elbow. She cursed in pain, and he quickly moved his hand to her side, trying to hoist her to her feet without both of them falling again. He managed to get her to her feet, but his hand slipped again and Olivia froze.

Quincy, eyes still closed, frowned as he gave a little squeeze. “That’s not your arm, is it?”

“Nope,” Olivia said quietly as his hand held her boob. “No, it’s not.”

His hand dropped, and he backed away. “I’m so sorry,” he said, holding up his hands. “It was horrible, I promise. Didn’t like it at all.”

“Well, thanks for that. Nice to know I repulse you.”

“What? No, but you’re going to be my stepsister and I just groped you,” he said quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned around. “Am I headed towards the door?”

“Yes, you are,” she said as she tried to forget what that touch felt like. “Go straight… you’re going to—oh, sorry.” She cringed when he ran into it with his face and cursed. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just fine,” he said as he held his face. “Be careful, and I would put some clothes on if I were you.”

He closed the doors tightly behind him, and Olivia felt her body sag with relief. She took the towel still draped over her wet hair and put it on the floor to wipe up the water as she finally made it to the nightstand, grabbed her brush, and headed back to the bathroom. Her elbow still hurt, but she could move it well enough, though there was a nice-sized bruise forming on it.