Royally Not Ready(25)
Brimar cleans up the first aid kit, while Keller asks, “Are you able to sit up?”
“I believe so,” I answer. He takes my hand in his, his warm palm to mine, and then he slips his other hand around my back and slowly helps me up to a seated position.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“Good,” I answer, just as my stomach growls loudly enough for the neighbors across the countryside to hear. I smile sheepishly. “Sort of hungry.”
“Let me grab you something,” Brimar says, but Keller stands and holds his hand out to pause him.
“No, I’ll grab her something. Why don’t you both go get some sleep? We’ll need you alert.”
Brimar nods, but Lara takes a seat at the coffee table, where she leans forward and takes my hand in hers. “Are you truly okay? I’m so sorry, Miss Campbell.”
I place my hand on hers and say, “Once again, call me Lilly, and, yes, I’m quite all right. I actually feel better knowing there’s a badass broom thrower in our midst. Like a javelin, it nailed me dead in the head. I really have to give credit where credit is due.”
“She’s always had a supreme aim,” Brimar says with pride in his voice.
I smile at Lara and say, “I promise. I’m good. I think you actually did me a favor, because”—I dramatically drape my hand across my forehead—“I don’t believe I’ll be able to work out tomorrow with you guys. I’m much too fragile.”
Lara laughs, and then to my surprise, she pulls me into a hug. Shocked, stunned . . . comforted, I loop my arms around her and return the hug.
Quietly, she says, “I know you might leave, but I just—I’m so glad I got to at least meet you.” When she pulls away, she gives me a very kind smile and stands. Brimar holds his hand out, and together, they walk back to their room.
When Keller returns, he has a plate in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He sets everything down in front of me on the coffee table and takes a seat.
“You know, I’ve never been served by a nearly naked man before. All you need is a giant palm leaf to fan in front of me.”
He barely cracks a smile as he hands me the plate. It’s full of fruits, cubed cheese, and slices of artesian bread that have been buttered. Just what I need.
With concern in his eyes, he asks, “Do you need any pain medication?”
“I don’t believe so. I mean, my head hurts but not enough to warrant medication.” I take a bite of the bread and moan as I lean into the couch cushions. “Good God, this is delicious. Did you make this?”
He shakes his head. “Brimar loves baking bread in his spare time.”
“A man of many talents,” I say as I feel Keller’s eyes on me, examining me. “You know, I’m really okay. You don’t need to worry that much.”
“You’re my responsibility. If you get hurt, that’s on me. Don’t tell me not to worry when I’m not doing my job,” he says, his voice stern.
“Hey, no need to get angry. It was an accident. Why is everyone walking on eggshells?”
“Because you’re important to this country,” Keller says, his chest heaving with what seems to be frustration. “If something happens to you, that means we failed at our job. And to us, this job, this country, it means everything. If something happened to your bikini wagon, wouldn’t you take it to heart?”
“Well, I guess when you put it that way . . .” I somberly take a bite of my bread. “Yeah, I would be upset.”
Keller reaches out and loops his index finger under my chin, lifting my gaze. When our eyes meet, the sheer intensity from his expression causes my pulse to thump harder. There’s an underlying sense of ferocity behind his pupils as he says, “You matter most, Lilly. Even if you decide you don’t want to be part of the royal life and you go back to Miami, until that time has come . . . you . . . matter . . . most.”
I swallow the gooey, mangled-up piece of bread that’s just resting in my mouth, because holy . . . shit.
This is the first time that a man has EVER looked at me the way Keller is, with such heavy sincerity but laced with a pinch of possession. Like if I gave him the slightest of nods, he would mark me, claim me, own me. It’s distressing, but not in the way that you might think. It’s distressing my soul, because oddly, that pinch of possession, it’s what I’ve always wanted in a man. And the fact that this sexy, large, overbearing god-like man is sitting right in front of me, telling me I matter most, it’s messing with my head.
“Do you understand?” he asks.
I wet my lips as my pulse thrums on his every word, straining my veins with an awakening I wasn’t expecting.
“I . . . do,” I answer.
“Good.” Then he stands, his crotch right at eye level, and for the life of me, I can’t tear my gaze away, not when the fabric of his briefs clings so desperately to his length, defining the head of his cock. I would say I’ve seen a few penises in my lifetime, and even through the fabric, I can claim that Keller most likely has the nicest one I’ve ever seen. “Lilly.”
“Huh?” I say, snapping my eyes up to his, but instead of the concern, I’m met with hungry eyes.
He caught me staring.
Does he also notice the way my breathing has picked up?