“You know, I love surprises,” I said to Oliver as we neared the formal dining room.

“I know, Sir.”

“Presents? Awesome. Vacation on the fly? Superb. Gorgeous brunette in my arms? Perfect. But surprise formal dinners? Not so much.” Especially when they were with the entire Royal Family, political big wigs, and the final two contestants in the I-Want-To-Marry-Jameson shitshow.

“Yes, Sir.”

I stopped, forcing him to turn around and look at me. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.” His finger came up in a pinching motion.

“You’re fired,” I muttered.

“Yeah, you can’t do that. I’m assigned to the Crown by the head of Palace security. But of course, if you’d like to request a transfer, I’d be happy to see if Robert would like to take my place.”

“That geriatric piece of history?”

“He’s an excellent guard,” Oliver said, a smirk playing over his face.

Asshole.

“Sure, to my mother, who’s most exciting trips include Garden Club and the Children’s Hospital.”

“So you’ll keep me. That’s what you’re saying.” He folded his arms across his chest. Damn the guy was big. I was in shape, but I really needed to get on Oliver’s workout regimen.

“Are you going to force me into that dinner?” All I wanted to do was take Charlotte back to my room and spend my night devouring her. I’d barely seen her today, and now we were stuck in this dinner for God only knew how long.

“I could carry you over my shoulder, but it wouldn’t be very dignified.” There was more than a twinkle of amusement going through his eyes.

“No way. I could take you.”

“No offense, Sir, but no. You couldn’t.” He shook his head.

“He’s right, you couldn’t,” Sophie said as she came down the hall to stand next to me. Her dress was simple and all the more beautiful for it. Dark purple with a high neckline and a flowing chiffon skirt from the raised waist. As she turned toward Oliver, I saw that the back of her dress dipped down her back. Way down her back.

She’s a grown woman. I reminded myself. Hell, she was older than Brie who wore way less, but Sophie was still my baby sister.

“Your Royal Highness,” Oliver said with a bow of his head.

“Oliver, how are you tonight?” she asked, her voice all wispy and shit.

God, I loved my sister, and I hated this for her. The way she felt about Oliver was all over her face, in her eyes, and it was never going to be returned. Not because he didn’t look at her every time he didn’t think anyone was looking, but because he had a really anachronistic sense of class structure.

“I’m well, ma’am. Where is your security? Isn’t Claire with you?” He scanned the hallway behind her.

“Oh, it’s her mom’s birthday, so I sent her home.”

“You what?” I damn-near-shouted. With the anti-monarchist threat, the last thing I wanted was my sister unprotected.

“Relax,” she said gently, her hand touching my arm. “I’m in the Palace, not out at the club. I don’t really need protection behind these walls.”

“You think you’re the exception?” I asked, trying my damndest to keep a level head. “Do you not see Oliver on my case twenty-four-seven?”

“I think I’m not the Crown Prince, the future King, or anything that anyone needs to worry about. I’m not as important as you are. Now, I’m going to dinner, would you like to join me, or would you like to stay out here and argue in the hallway a bit more?” She tilted her head, her hands on her hips, and the look she gave me reassured me that as soft as she was, she’d never let anyone run her over.

“I’ll be right there.”

She nodded, and then looked at Oliver. “Oliver,” she said softly, but the end tilted up as if she were asking a question.

His jaw locked momentarily, but he bowed his head. “Your Royal Highness.”

She sighed and headed into the dining room.

“She’s just as important as you are,” Oliver growled when she was out of earshot.

“She’s more than I am,” I replied. “She’s kind, and smart, and thinks of everyone else first. She’s far more capable of leading Elleston.”

“You’re not thinking of abdicating, are you?” He asked me quietly.

“No. This is my country, and I’m her King. And I would never put that responsibility on Sophie, or the hell I’m going through right now. She’ll wed whomever she damn-well pleases with no thought to treaties or aristocracy. She’ll be free.”

“Ah, Jameson. You’re here. Would you mind escorting me in?” Mom asked, appearing with Robert behind her.

I held out my arm. “It would be my honor.”

“Excellent,” she placed her hand in the corner of my bent arm. “I wanted to tell you; I’ll be going to America tomorrow.”

I stopped so fast I almost tripped Mom. “I’m sorry? Right now? Not that I mind you going, but usually you’re...involved. Especially given what’s going on.”

She cupped my face with a gloved hand.

“Your candidates are all acceptable. I know you’ll make the right choice. And honestly, after the way things went with Xander, I can’t risk you over my tendency to overstep. And I’d like to mend the fences I may have broken with Willa, especially with their child on the way.”

“So I’m on my own.”

“You have Charlotte, dear. You’re never alone.”

I kept her words in mind as we entered the dining room and were announced. I sat my mother at the end of the table and took my place in the center. Normally I’d be at the foot of the table, but with circumstances being what they were, I needed the opportunity to talk to both Katherine and Ophelia, and their parents.” Fuck my life, was this really happening?

I came to my seat and nearly collapsed in relief. They’d placed Charlotte on my right, Sophie on my left, and the two Ladies across from me. Brie was further down, looking uncharacteristically formal. I shot her a WTF look, and she just shrugged. Guess Mom had gotten to her, too.

Holy shit, Charlotte looked good. Her hair was on top of her head in loose curls and coils, the emeralds at her throat matched her eyes, and her light green dress hugged her curves while being the epitome of class. As she turned to curtsy as the formal nature of our dinner dictated, I saw a slit in the flowy fabric along her left leg. This dinner was going to be torture.

The footman seated Sophie, and I pulled out Charlotte’s chair for her to sit.

“I’ve got it,” I told the staff member.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said softly as I seated her. No, it wasn’t right or proper, but she was mine, and I’d make sure she felt like it.

“Your Highness,” Ophelia addressed me with a smile.

“Lady Ophelia,” I replied. She was a lovely woman, absolutely suitable for Queen. She’d be what my mother called a “good match.” But she wasn’t Charlotte.

“Your Highness,” Katherine said from the other side of Ophelia.

“Lady Katherine,” I replied with a nod.

At once, this whole charade seemed cruel. Katherine had no desire to marry me, and yet she was duty-bound to say yes if I offered. Ophelia was more than willing to marry me, and now having made it this far in the process believed she had a fifty percent choice.

But the only woman I’d willingly marry sat on my right, laughing at something our Master of the Treasury said.

“Well, this is...interesting,” Damian said, taking the seat between the ladies.

God, I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t even noticed that our Prime Minister was directly across from me.

“If this gets to be too much, just say the word,” Charlotte said softly, leaning in.

I turned my head and immediately regretted it. It didn’t matter where we were or how formal our occasion. All I saw was Charlotte under me in the Range Rover. I saw her neck and remembered my mouth on the tender skin. She parted her lips, and all I could think about was my tongue in her mouth, her moans in my ear, the sound of my name as she came. My fists clenched, my fingers desperate to feel the soft, slippery center of her pussy.

God, the way she’d clenched around my fingers—

“Jameson?” she asked.

I swallowed.

“Sorry, I was...distracted.”

“Well, less...distraction, and more conversing with your future Queen.” Her smile was formal, but I knew the sparkle in those eyes, the one that led to her saying yes.

“Working on it,” I answered truthfully.

“Katherine and Ophelia, Jaime.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

First course passed with small talk, which Damian helped supply. It was good to see how both of the women interacted with the Prime Minister. Of course, Charlotte charmed and challenged him without effort.

As the second course was being served, I leaned over. “I need you,” I whispered. “Tonight. I can’t wait any longer.”

“We’re at the table,” she chastised, but I knew that if anyone looked over, it would seem we were discussing the most mundane details. Charlotte was good like that.

My hand slid onto her thigh, and she sucked in her breath slightly. “And?”

“And you need to eat.”

“Oh, I’m going to. All. Night. Long.” Finding the slit, my hand met bare thigh. No stocking. No garters. Just Charlotte.

She cleared her throat and asked Ophelia a question.

Ophelia answered, and I nodded, but my attention was on Charlotte’s skin, the way she sat up a little straighter. Her pulse fluttered in her throat as I slid my hand further up her dress, meeting the lace of her panties.

I fucking loved lace. It tore so neatly in my teeth.

“Don’t you think, Sir?” Ophelia asked, her language absolutely formal.

Such a contrast to the informal way my hand lingered at the apex of Charlotte’s legs. My brain ran through the conversation, trying to remember what she’d asked.

Trade. Sanctions.

“I do think that sanctions are a good way to chastise a foreign government. Far better than war. But it also hurts our trade, so that always has to be taken into account.”

“Sanctions are in place to let them know that what they’re doing is wrong,” Charlotte said, her voice in absolute control.

I stroked over the top of her cleft with my pinky.

“But what if they have goods...let’s say humanitarian needs that have to be met. Is it better to place sanctions...or let the goods in?”

“I think that’s a moral quandary,” Ophelia answered, but the sound was distant.

“What if they’re really needed?” I asked Charlotte. “What if people are dying?”

“Then you have to provide,” she answered.

Her thighs relaxed, parting ever-so slightly.

Fucking victory.

My hand slid firmly between her legs, and my fingers skirted the outside of her panties, rubbing over her clit.

Charlotte’s stomach muscles flexed, and her breaths came faster, but not so fast that anyone else would notice.

The third course was served, and I thanked God that we Europeans used our left hand for our fork, because my other one wasn’t budging.

The conversation swirled around us, and I kept my fingers stroking over the lace of her panties, the rhythm light, teasing, and just enough to keep her on edge without sending her into meltdown.

I eventually had to remove my hand, but it always went back, and she always let me in.

“Tonight,” I ordered her as dessert arrived.

Her cheeks flushed, and she took another sip of her wine as if the alcohol was the cause.

“Dinner,” she reminded me.

“You’re going to give in.”

Her eyes locked on mine. “Will I?”

Bananas foster sat in front of me—my favorite dessert.

“You did this?” I asked her softly.

“It’s your favorite,” Charlotte answered.

“Thank you.”

The women in front of me started their lists of favorite desserts while I fingered mine. I moved her panties to the side and swept my fingers up her cleft.

My cock swelled until I was harder than the table. Fuck, she was wet. What a woman she was—an elegant, composed exterior, and a fiery temptress underneath.

I slipped one finger, then two inside her tight pussy until I felt the barrier of her virginity. That tiny little membrane was one of the reasons I’d wanted her in a bed. I needed to make her come, and more than once, before I took her, claimed her, made sure she understood that I was made for her, and her alone.

Her head bowed for a second, and she sucked in a full breath.

Her walls clenched around me, a flood of warmth coating my fingers.

“Switzerland,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

“Switzerland!” she snapped.

Half the eyes at the table snapped to her.

While my fingers were inside her under the table, fucking her.

Yeah, this was the most reckless and most erotic moment of my life.

“I’d asked where her favorite chocolates come from,” I said loud enough to appease the onlookers.

Mutters of appreciation and agreement came from all around the table as a debate broke out across from us about the merits of Swiss chocolates versus Belgian ones.

“Switzerland,” I agreed, slipping my fingers free of her.

“Tonight,” she agreed quietly.

Having successfully taken a bite of my dessert, I popped my middle finger in my mouth—still saturated with her juices—and licked it clean.

“So sweet.”

Her lips parted, and her hand reached over to my lap, cupping my dick through the fabric of my tux. “This works both ways.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I told her, careful to keep my voice quiet. “I’m always at your mercy.”

“So,” she turned her attention to Ophelia. “Tell me about your charities.”

She was all business as she questioned the women.

But her hand stayed right on my dick.

* * *

The clock rang out at midnight as I slipped into Charlotte’s room. Thank God for the secret tunnels that ran through the palace, or I could never have made it without the gossip mill attacking her. I’d been hard since dinner, and I doubt any of the night staff needed to see me prowling the halls with an erection.

There were definite benefits to a medieval palace.

“Jaime?” Charlotte called out from the oversized reading chair she was curled up in.

“It’s me.”

I stalked across the room, consumed by the scent of her in the room, the sight of her silk robe that parted gently to reveal her shapely legs as they shifted. Without giving her a moment to pause, to think, to stop the inevitability of us, I kissed her.

Squeezing her jaw lightly, my tongue sank inside her, tasting the peppermint of her tea, and the sweetness of her desire. I angled her head taking her deeper, stroking her tongue with mine and letting her know exactly what was on my mind without the words. Only when she groaned, and her hands dropped the book to tunnel through my hair, did I let up.

“Say yes,” I asked against her lips.

She whimpered.

“You have to say, it, Charlie. I know what you’re giving me, and I need to hear that you want it, that you won’t regret it.”

I’d never asked a woman for her body. I’d never had to. They’d always come willingly, enthusiastically, pursued me.

But for Charlotte, I would go to war, fight bloody battles worse than anything I’d seen in my two years of mandatory service. I would beg.

My hands skimmed down the silk of her robe, stroking over her curves. Fuck me, she was naked underneath. I was one belt-pull away from my wildest fantasy.

“Please, Charlotte. My Charlie. Say yes. Let me love you.” I finished my plea with a kiss, deep and thorough.

“Yes.” Her whisper was the sweetest word I’d ever heard. “I want you, Jaime.”

I wanted to be slow, to build her fire with care and reverence.

But I wanted her too damn badly. She was the one I’d always loved—always wanted, the one I’d never been allowed to have. And now she was mine. I just had to prove it to her.

My mouth licked and sucked at her skin as I slid to my knees before her.

“Jaime...what are you—”

“Trust me.”

I held my breath as I tugged on the silk tie that kept her robe closed, and then let it go in a ragged sigh. My eyes feasted on her body, from the curve of her waist to the high, heavy breasts my mouth longed for, to the tiny strip of curls that led to her sweet pussy. She was everything I’d fantasized and more.

For the first time in my life, I was tongue-tied.

“Jameson?”

My eyes met hers, and my exhale was shaky. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You know that, right?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head slowly. “You’ve been with so many.”

“And none of them were you. God, if you had been intended for me, there never would have been another woman in my bed. Ever. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Without losing eye contact, I spread her thighs.

“You’re all I’ll ever want,” I swore. Then before she could answer, I set my mouth on her.

She arched, her hands gripping my hair.

I licked her from opening to clit, tasting her sweetness. When I tongued that sensitive bundle of nerves, she gasped. Then her fingers weren’t tugging my hair; they were holding my head in place. As if I’d ever leave.

I alternated flat strokes of my tongue with swirls and pressure, her moan filling her bedroom when I sucked her clit between my lips.

“God. Yes. Jaime!”

I gripped her ass and pulled her to the edge of the chair, eating at her like she was the last meal I’d ever have on this Earth.

She had to say yes. She had to be mine because I couldn’t live my life without having her on my tongue every night.

I entered her with one finger, using it to tease until she writhed against it.

“More.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” I teased.

“Jameson. More.”

“As always, you command me.” I used two fingers to find her g-spot, stroking it as I worked her clit with my mouth.

Then I switched, fucking her with my tongue as my fingers rubbed her clit.

She came apart, and God, her orgasm was beautiful. To know that I’d brought her that pleasure, made her lose that rigid control made me almost come in my damn pants.

I brought her down gently, ignoring the state of my dick. He could wait.

She looked at me with wonder in her eyes. They were hooded, glazed with desire. Her cheeks were flush, and her hair a mess from where she’d thrashed against the back of the chair.

She pulled me up by my dress shirt—I’d been too keyed up to change after dinner—and kissed me ravenously.

With a gasp, she pulled back. “I can taste you and…”

“And yourself?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her eyes on my lips.

I lifted her into my arms and headed for the bed.

“Still want me?” I asked. I’d stop if she wanted me to—I’d never hurt any woman, let alone Charlotte, but damn, I was going to be dead if she said yes.

What a way to go.

“God, yes,” she answered, throwing her robe to the floor as I laid her back on the bed. “Now strip. I’m not the only one getting naked here.”

I grinned, then peeled off my dress shirt, shoes, socks, tux pants and my boxer briefs. Then I stood as she came up on her elbows, letting her look at me the same way I’d done to her. Slowly, I turned in a circle.

“Do I pass inspection?” I asked.

She wet her lips and nodded, her eyes dropping to my cock where he was more than ready for her. Her breath sped up, and her eyes widened.

“You’ll fit, I promise,” I told her.

She raised an eyebrow. “I know. I’m a virgin. Not an idiot. I was just admiring you.” She sat up, her hands skimming my thighs until she cupped me in her palm. “And there’s a lot to admire.”

I hissed as she squeezed lightly, but I didn’t move, just let her explore my body.

“I’ve been wondering about this since that day in the gym,” she said, her thumb stroking over my tattoo.

Well, shit.

“That was a drunken night in Vegas after I saw a picture of you and Xander on the front of every American tabloid at some charity event.” If she didn’t understand what she meant to me, that patch of ink pretty much gave it all away.

“It’s a gardenia.”

She looked up at me, and I just about drown in those eyes. As hard as I was, as desperate and hungry to have her, this moment was more intimate than sex could ever be.

“Why?” her voice was a plea.

I cupped her face in my hands. “Because you were on his arm, but you’d always been imprinted on my soul. I’d always think of you reading in the gardenias, those moments when you were mine before we both knew you were his. I simply let my skin reflect my heart.”

She rose up on her knees. “I was never his. Not in the way that I was yours—am yours.”

Before I could question her, she kissed me, and my thoughts all went south, where her very soft belly was pressed against my very hard dick.

Gripping the globes of her ass, I lifted her and brought us to the center of the bed. Then I worshipped her skin with kisses and caresses, memorizing every line and curve of her body. I drove her to madness, until she was writhing, her nipples pink from my mouth, her skin flushed from my hands.

“Please, Jaime,” she begged, grabbing my ass and raising her knees around my hips.

My cock nudged her entrance, and I locked down every muscle in my body, ignoring my most primal urge to thrust.

“Condom.” Was that my voice? It was so hoarse I barely recognized it.

She blinked up at me. “Of course.” She reached into her nightstand and tossed one at me.

“You…” My brain was foggy with lust, the hunger to take her gnawing at me, but I could still put that thought together. “You have condoms.”

“I got them today. I knew what I was asking you for last night.”

I tore open the condom with my teeth, then rolled it on with one hand as I kissed her. She’d acknowledged that we’d end up here, thought about me when I wasn’t with her.

This was better than Christmas.

Using my thumb, I lightly rubbed her hyper-sensitive clit until her hips rocked, seeking more, needing pressure. Needing me.

“God, Jaime. Please. Now.”

That was a plea I couldn’t refuse.

I kissed her again, then kept my eyes on hers, only a breath apart, as I maneuvered into her the slightest inch.

Heaven. Her pussy was hot, tight, slippery from my mouth and her desire. I locked my jaw and took a breath. “Okay?”

She nodded, wiggling her hips, and I hit that barrier.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I gritted out.

Her fingers curled around the back of my neck, and she brought me down for a long kiss. “Take what’s yours, Jameson.”

I thrust home, taking her virginity and sinking into her up to the hilt in one smooth motion.

She gasped.

Perfect. Glorious. Hot. So fucking tight. Home. There weren’t enough words to describe this feeling, or the need to pull out and thrust again and again—to pound us both to orgasm, to rip off this condom and ride her bare, fill her with our child. To bind her to me irrevocably.

Instead, I stayed completely still, keeping my weight on my elbows so I didn’t crush her.

“Charlie?” I searched her eyes.

“I’m okay. It just hurts a twinge, and you’re...God, Jameson, you’re in me.”

I groaned. There was a spot in the restraint hall of fame for me somewhere.

“Yeah, I am.”

She wiggled her hips, and I cursed.

“Charlotte. Stop. Give yourself a minute to adjust.” If she moved like that one more time, I was going to come, and this would be over before it ever started.

“It feels good when I move,” she said, her thighs locked onto my hips.

“Then I hope you’re ready because it’s about to get even better.”

I withdrew until I almost left her, then slid in again, slowly, carefully. Her eyes closed, her neck arched, and she let out the sweetest fucking moan I’d ever heard.

“Again.”

So I did.

I moved inside her over and over again, keeping my pace slow, the thrusts steady, watching her for any sign of pain while I kept my body on lockdown.

Her body was liquid fire, our fit the kind of perfection that was always written about but never existed...but we did.

“More,” she said, arching her back.

That was quickly becoming my favorite word.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” I ordered, my jaw locking as I increased our pace, taking her faster, my thrusts harder. She wrapped her legs around my hips, and I realized this was it—the moment I’d always dreamed about, fantasized about.

And the reality was better than I’d ever imagined.

“Stop holding back,” she ordered, then kissed me. “I want everything you have.”

My control snapped.

Fisting my hand in her hair, I buried my face in her neck, kissing the most sensitive spot, then fucked her like I’d always dreamed about.

Long. Hard. My hips pistoned, swinging rhythmically, but wild. Her moans drove me on, her nails in the skin of my back, her legs tight around me.

I felt my orgasm build, the sensation shooting from my balls and up my spine, but I bit it back. I wanted this to last forever.

“Jaime,” she pled, seeking her release, her muscles tight beneath me. She was right on the edge.

I slipped my hand between us and pressed on her clit.

She screamed my name as she came.

I pumped twice more and lost myself to my orgasm, and in the white-hot pleasure, I could only say one word. “Charlotte.”

Then I said it again twice before morning came.

I left her room as the sun rose, knowing the house would be up, and there was zero chance I was fucking up her reputation—even if it got her in a wedding dress. She had to choose me, not be press-shamed into marrying me.

I looked back at her—sprawled, satisfied, and sleeping before I snuck into the passage. She was exquisite, and mine.

Every part of me screamed to get back in that bed with her, to make love to her as the sun rose and fuck the consequences. Instead, I shut the passage door behind me softly and walked back to my room.

I was leaving her bed today so I could keep her in mine forever.