The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(46)

His power and passion steal my breath, and I don’t get it back once he has ripped his lips from mine. “Nice,” he pants, rolling his groin into me.

My back arches, pushing my breasts into his chest. “I’d give you another word,” I breathe, “but I’m rather blank at the moment.”

“Let’s see if we can wake up that mind, then,” he muses, securing both of my wrists in one grasp and reaching for the hem of my roll-neck sweater. As soon as his skin skims mine, my mind does wake up, providing me with many words, most of them ones of a pleading nature.

“Josh.” I’m unsure whether I’m begging him to stop, or encouraging him on. Anyone could catch us.

My sweater is yanked up, my bra down, and he’s on my breasts in the blink of an eye, swirling that god-loving tongue around and around, wide and firm. Then his teeth sink into my hard nipple and I buck, tinkering on that dangerous edge between pleasure and pain. He hums, he moans, he growls. “Shit, you are so fucking delicious.”

“Your Highness.” Damon’s voice calling me doesn’t penetrate the haze of pleasure holding me captive, doesn’t have me darting up in a panic or fighting Josh off me. I’m lost.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Josh mumbles around my flesh, kissing the tip of my nipple before pulling the cups of my bra into place and my sweater down. “Playtime is over.”

I pout, falling into instant mourning for my loss.

“Ma’am?” Damon sounds slightly concerned, and without Josh’s tongue distracting me, I suddenly appreciate how close he is.

“Quick, up you get.” Josh hauls me up from the hay and brushes me down before turning me by the shoulders and pushing me toward the stable door. “I’ll hang back.”

I gather myself and straighten my shoulders, aware of the many people floating around the stables. For a moment there, I completely forgot myself. I need to find some control.

I steal one last glimpse of Josh as I leave, wishing I could bottle the smile he gives me and store it forever. I’m desperate to ask him when I’ll see him again, but my pride, as well as a sliver of sensibility, won’t allow it. “See you.”

“See you,” he mimics, his smile now thoughtful.

I round the corner, working hard to wipe the permanent grin from my face and the goosebumps from my tingling skin.

“There you are,” Damon mutters, clearly fed up with my disappearing acts today. “Time to get back.”

“Back to my prison? Oh joy.”

He gives me a funny look, stopping me in my tracks to the car.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Damon takes up his professional pose, the one where he stands with his joined hands behind his back and his chin lifted slightly.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Have fun in the stables?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I head to the car, pushing a blush back from my cheeks.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?”

“You have hay in your hair,” he says, opening the door for me.

I reach up and brush at my free locks, the blush now unavoidable. “Damn it,” I curse, catching Damon’s wry smile.

“Fun?” he asks again.

“Oh, behave,” I breathe, slipping into the back seat, not at all worried. I don’t only trust Damon with my life, I trust him with my secrets. And Josh Jameson is one gigantic secret.

As we pull out of the stables, I see a Range Rover heading toward us, every window blacked out. I fall back in my seat and twiddle my fingers in my lap, trying not to let my mind venture to silly places. Places I am not allowed to be, and usually would have no interest in staying. But Josh is broaching my walls. And I cannot allow him that level access to my heart. Because it could easily be broken when he’s wrenched away.





THE NEXT DAY AT THE stables is not nearly as wonderful. I saddle up Spearmint, distracted, I ride him, distracted, and I clean his tack, distracted. The whole time I’m there, I hope for a surprise visitor. He doesn’t come, and I leave the royal stables feeling despondent.

As we pull up at Kellington, my phone rings and my eyes roll. “Mother,” I say as I step out of my car, thanking Damon with a nod. My coat is pulled from my shoulders by Olive as I stand in the entrance hall and listen to my mother deliver a point-by-point rundown of the afternoon tea at Claringdon Palace, held in honor of Helen. “Sorry I missed it,” I lie, handing Olive my bag on a smile. The prime examples of English ladies all in one room is my idea of hell—all swooning over pretty little cakes, Earl Grey tea being sipped through pursed lips from fancy china, and over-the-top fussing of my over-indulgent sister-in-law. No thank you.

“I hear you spent rather a long time at the stables with that new horse of yours,” Mother says very casually, and I tense a little, stalling on any reply. She heard? From whom? “I had tea with Sabina yesterday evening.”

My tense body softens, relieved. “Just getting to know him.” I roll my eyes at Damon when he smirks a little, clearly grasping the direction of conversation.

“She said he shows smashing potential.”

“He does.”

“Now, onto another matter. I wanted to speak with you before Kim brings it up.”