Chapter 3

Charlotte

“I swear, Char, if you don’t stop looking about, I will sit on you,” Gen hisses at me. “It’s distracting.”

“That’s because I won’t tell you who I’m looking for,” I reply with a serene smile.

Gen snorts delicately. “You are so transparent, it’s positively frightening.”

“Do go on.” I glance at her, wanting to stick out my tongue like when we were little and she’d tease me.

She pretends to think about it—I know her well enough to recognize that look…and it’s identical to the one I make.

“Mr. Walker aka forbidden man candy that you can’t wait to sample.”

“Is he forbidden because my queen decrees it?” I ask lightly.

“The queen wholeheartedly approves.” Gen holds up her mobile in front of us to snap a picture. “Smile, else everyone will think we’re cross or bored, or whatever else can be made up about us.”

I lean in to her, doing as she commands. Gen is right. We’re in a fishbowl at the moment, a lovely, glittery bowl filled with tropical fish of every color. I imagine everyone staring at us, pressing their faces against the glass as they point and talk.

My skin pricks and not in a way that makes me think Brooks has magically appeared. “Oh dear.”

Gen grabs my hand, putting away her phone. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Sweat breaks out along my lower back. I know it’s working its way up my body. My heart begins to race and air suddenly becomes more important than ever.

“I need some fresh air.”

“Only a few minutes more,” she says encouragingly. “Can you give me a few more minutes, darling?”

“I’ll try.” I swallow. “I’m so sorry, Gen.”

She squeezes my hand. “Never apologize to me, not over this.”

I can’t help it. It’s such a weakness of mine, this unreasonable anxiety that happens when I least expect it. The therapist I used to see blamed it on my childhood, specifically on my parents’ murders, but I’m no longer a child. And I’d experienced this sort of anxiety even before they died.

Nanny Brownstone used to say that my constitution was weak, that I was weak. She also used to say some other very awful things. Things that made my anxiety worse.

I refuse to allow the eleven years she terrorized me to dominate my thoughts.

I focus on breathing, on the beautiful models, women with scars, missing limbs, and survivors of cancer strutting down the runway, their smiles brilliant. Women who have an actual right to complain, unlike some silly princess, who was occasionally locked in a dark tower when she was naughty.

The last model makes her way down, then pivots. Everyone, including me, rises to their feet. I slip my hand from Gen’s and clap, feeling her stare on me.

“I’m fine now,” I assure her as the applause dies down. “Let’s make our donation, thank the models and designers again, and make our pitch to the press. Then we can be on our way.”

“You don’t have to stay for any of that, Char.” She tips up her chin and gives a coy smile to the press on the other side of the room. Their zoom lenses are focused on us, so I smile as well. “It only requires one of us.”

I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, but this fashion walk was my idea—one she took to our publicist, who made it happen. “Right, then. Peter can escort me to the hotel.”

Gen sighs. “Why does it feel like I’ve said exactly the wrong thing?”

“The queen is never wrong.” Yes, it’s a bit bitchy of me, but I’m wounded. Wounded by the one person in the world who knows me better than anyone else.

“That’s not fair,” she begins and then shakes her head. “I refuse to have this conversation with you in public.”

“You never have this conversation with me in private.” I take a deep breath, regretting my foul mood. My twin has done nothing wrong. “Forget I said anything. I’m not myself. I promise to make it up to you over dinner.”

“Will you be around for that?”

I shrug. “I left him a message, so…”

“Please tell me you’re joking.” Gen turns to me, grabbing my shoulders. “Please tell me that you didn’t call him.”

“How else was I supposed to meet him here?” I blurt, frustrated. “I didn’t give him my number.”

“Good Lord, Char.” Her blue-green eyes fix on my face, concern glowing in them. “He should chase you, not the other way around. You deserve to be chased, courted…he needs to fall at your feet and worship the ground you walk on.”

“He’s agreed to have an affair with me.”

Her eyes widen and her mouth forms an O. “I’m not sure if I approve or not.”

“Please say you’ll support me in this.”

“Colin’s not happy, I suppose.”

I shake my head. “When he finds out, he will hit the roof.”

“And find a real gun?” She smiles widely. “Your Mr. Walker didn’t flinch.”

“Rather strange, if you ask me. Perhaps he’s accustomed to death threats and laughs in the face of danger?”

She laughs. “Only you would come to that conclusion, but I think you’re right.” Leaning forward, she kisses my cheeks. “Let me know if you are available for dinner. I don’t want to dine alone tonight, if I can help it.

“No pressure, or anything,” she adds cheekily.

“You’ll be the first to know my plans.” I nod at Peter and he’s at my side in an instant. “I’m ready to leave.”

“Right this way, Princess.”

I arrive at my hotel forty minutes later and head straightaway to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable. I’ve must have checked my phone a thousand times, but I’ve not heard a peep from Brooks.

Perhaps he’s changed his mind.

Perhaps—perhaps nothing.

With a frown, I sit down on the edge of the bed and remove my heels first, then stand to finish undressing.

I shouldn’t have called him first. I should have asked Gen or Della for advice. They know how to handle men better than I do.

Padding to the bathroom in nothing but my bra and panties, I wash my face and brush my teeth, mentally scolding myself for being so gauche.

Honestly, my entire proposal sounded contrived. Sex in exchange for insider secrets? I’m surprised he didn’t laugh me out of the bakery.

As if he needs sex from me.

Hasn’t he been running his organization for years without my offer? He simply wanted me to admit that I wanted him because if he were keen on my offer, then we would have gotten started that night.

What. An. Idiot.

There’s a commotion from the main part of my suite. Curious, I throw on my robe and stick my head out the door.

“Everything okay?” I call out.

Peter walks my way. “Mr. Walker to see you, but Prince Colin gave me instructions not to let him within a mile of you.”

He’s here!

My heart pounds against my chest in triple time. I attempt to look for Brooks over my bodyguard’s shoulder, but he’s too tall.

“Mr. Walker is my guest for the evening,” I finally say, wincing slightly over the quasi-lie. “We have…dinner plans.”

Peter hesitates and I almost remind him that I outrank my brother, something I hate to do because I don’t think it’s very sisterly of me.

“Very well, Princess.” He steps to one side, and finally I see him. Dressed in a gray suit with a white shirt and red tie and his light-colored hair disheveled, he is a sight to behold.

Slowly, he takes off his sunglasses and puts them in a pocket inside his suit jacket while his brilliant blue eyes roam over me. “You look ready for bed.”

My face heats. “Yes, well, I’d planned on dining with my sister this evening. She adores room service, so we always get it when we’re in the city together.”

He crosses the distance between us and comes to stand right in front of me. He’s so close that I can smell the scent of his cologne—woodsy and rich spices with a hint of smoke.

Bloody perfect.

“What do you adore?” he asks.

“I’m easy to get along with,” I assure him, tipping up my chin to look at him. This close he’s very tall and large, muscular in a lean sort of way. He’s not a full-time desk jockey in the least.

He tilts his head to one side. “Didn’t ask if you were easy. I asked what you preferred.”

I scrunch my nose. “I don’t know actually. I’ve only visited New York three times and we always stay at the same place, and always order room service. It’s easier on security, you see, and we don’t have to worry about the press bothering us.”

Brooks studies me for a moment. “Are you sure that your sister is the one who adores room service?”

A sheepish smile pushes up the corners of my mouth. “Fine. I adore room service because I’m not fond of crowded, unfamiliar places.” I don’t admit anything more than that.

“Why?”

“Are you asking, or is Brooks Walker, founder of Walker Media, asking?” I reply, trying to turn it back on him.

“They’re the same person, but I’m asking off the record.”

I hesitate.

“You have my word that I won’t publish what you say.”

“We’re not in the heat of the moment,” I blurt.

His head dips, his hands coming to rest lightly on my shoulders. He cups them, pulling me close to him. “I can fix that.”

“We have an audience,” I whisper right before his mouth touches mine.

His eyes flare with amusement. “I don’t mind.” But he lets go of me anyway. “If you’d like to go out, I can take you on a tour of the city.”

“I’d rather stay here. Already changed, brushed my teeth.” Stop rambling, Char! “Anyway, we can eat in and have a picnic in my bedroom. Della loves those, you know. I do as well. It shall be fantastic.”

And the idiot is back. I need a life coach with me, one who can tell me exactly what to say and how to act around Brooks.

He rubs his thumb across his bottom lip, a move that makes me weak in the knees. I don’t doubt it’s calculated, but it works. It so works for me.

“Are you going to invite me into your bedroom, Princess?” he asks in a low voice.

Perhaps he likes unsophisticated women after all. Or he likes the notoriety of royalty. Does any of that matter? I’m the one who asked him to have an affair with me, not the other way around.

“Yes.” Reaching behind me, I feel for the door and twist the knob, then realize it’s already open. I push the door open wider. “Do come in.” I glance at Peter, who stands a discreet distance away. “I’ll order room service myself.”

He nods, his face impassive. Peter has been employed by Sinclairs for so long that nothing shocks him, I suspect. “Shall I inform the queen?”

I shake my head. “No, I’ll take care of that as well.”

“Good night, Princess.” He leaves us, going to his adjoining room on the far side of my suite.

“Good night.” I wait for Brooks to walk inside before I shut the door behind us.

I whirl around, only to be caught up in his arms. His lips crash down on mine.

“You taste just as sweet as the first time,” he murmurs against my mouth before deepening our kiss, slowly gliding his tongue against mine over and over until I can barely remember to breathe.

His hands slide up my shoulders, along my neck, and to my face, which he frames, thumbs stroking my cheeks. Desire and lust and passion twine together, making me rub up against his hard body.

A low groan rumbles from his chest and one of his hands leaves my face so that his arm can wrap around my waist and pull me close. The second we touch from thigh to chest, I let out a moan and grab at his suit.

“I don’t want room service right now,” I tell him.

Without saying a word, he allows me to undress him. Tugging at the sleeves of his jacket, ripping at his shirt while buttons ping as they hit the floor and wall.

“Cuff links,” he says, letting go of me long enough to unfasten them.

My hands go to his trouser, yanking at his belt and fumbling with the zipper. I falter a bit when I touch his hard, thick length.

He sucks in air with a loud hiss and I jerk my head up. “What?”

“Nothing.” His eyes close. “Keep touching me, sweet Charlotte.”

Emboldened by his reaction and encouragement, I take him firmly in hand and use my free hand to grab his neck and pull him down so I can kiss him again. My fingers won’t wrap completely around his erection, but based on the way he’s breathing I think I’m doing a fantastic job of stroking him.

“Tell me why you don’t want to do go out,” he rasps.

Dazed, I pause. “You want to chat?”

“Heat of passion. Private.” He opens his eyes. “Tell me.” He wraps his hand around mine and begins to guide my movements. “Stroke my cock like this.”

“Better?” I ask a few seconds later.

“Hell, yes.” His lashes drop, nearly touching the tops of his cheeks, as his head falls back. The column of his tan neck is strained and his chest and shoulders—better than any I’ve ever had the pleasure to view. Brooks is at my mercy in the best possible way. “Tell me why.”

Yet he still demands that I spill my secrets to him.

“Because I get”—his head dips, his lips pressing against the side of my neck—“so very nice…nervous. Anxious. Always have. Ever since I was…oh my…little.”

My eyes close as he continues to travel up my neck, his tongue and teeth torturing me. My nipples are hard, but they’re made harder still and my breasts are heavy. They ache. I ache everywhere and only he can make it go away.

“Are you anxious now?” He nips at my jaw.

“No. Yes.” I squeeze his massive erection tighter and he groans. “I’m anxious to have sex with you.”

He grins against my cheek. “I can fix that.”

“Are you sure?” I lick my lips.

His grin falls and his hand on mine stops moving. “I assume you can feel how hard my dick is.”

“Yes, but—”

“I want to fuck you, Charlotte.” He thrusts his hips forward. “Feel how hard you’ve made me.”

I whimper.

“Sweet, sweet Charlotte. Wrap your arms around me.” I follow his directions, his hands going under my thighs. “Your legs, too, gorgeous.”

He walks us to my bed, his smile so wicked that my toes curl and my pulse surges in response. My clit is throbbing and I know I’m wet for him.

Carefully, he lays me down on the bed, bracing his hand on the mattress. For a minute, he stares at me, then slowly loosens the sash of my robe. The silk material falls to the side, baring my lace-covered breasts and panties to him. It’s all I can do to not cover myself, something silly, I know—especially considering the way I attacked his clothes.

His eyes widen appreciatively. “Have you had many lovers?”

“Only one, actually.” I lift up on my elbows. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Wanted to make sure you weren’t a virgin.”

“Do you have a special move for those?”

Laughter rumbles from his chest. “I’ve never been with one.”

“Me, either.” I tilt my head to one side. “But it has been some time since I was last intimate.”

“How do you make intimate sound so damn sexy?”

“Better than fornicating.”

He cocks a brow. “An old-fashioned princess. Who knew they still existed?”

“I’m not old-fashioned,” I protest, thinking he means that I sound silly. “I have a rather large vocabulary.”

“Even sexier.”

I study him. He seems sincere enough, but I’ve had years of assbackward compliments and sarcasm thrown my way. “Why?”

Brooks bites the side of his lip. “Because it’s a damn shame not to be able to carry on a conversation with a woman after you’ve fornicated with her.”

I give him a baleful look. “I’m not convinced.”

“I’m attracted to smart women.” He kisses the tip of my nose and cups my breasts, squeezing them. “Smart women with big tits.”

A snort of laughter leaves me. “Knew you were like any other man.” But he isn’t like anyone I know. He’s blunt and rude, and prints things that a lot of people consider mean.

And he doesn’t give a damn.

Sinclairs are charming and tell you to go to hell in such a way that you look forward to the journey. We have to be that way; it’s how we survived for so long…until our parents, anyway.

Am I just like them? I’ve offered my body in exchange for information and he took me up on it. What does that make me exactly?

Like my mother?

Like my father?

Or am I simply me?

“Come back to me, beautiful girl. You live in your head and I want in.” He kisses the corner of my mouth, his voice seductive and nearly hypnotizing. “Let me in.”

“My head’s not that interesting,” I protest, the words slipping easily from my lips. He wouldn’t like what he found in there, anyway. Ice cold invades my veins as I think of what he can print about me…except he promised not to share our intimate moments and this is pretty darn intimate.

“Royal wallflowers are the most interesting. Didn’t you know that? They have the most secrets and are so sensitive…to the touch.” He loosens the updo my hairstylist took hours to create and runs his big hands through the heavy strands.

I groan in pure pleasure.

“How good does that feel, Princess?” He massages my scalp with his fingers, getting rid of all the aches caused by my hair and the multitude of pins used to hold it up.

“The second-best feeling to taking my bra off after a long day.”

“My next stop on your delectable body.” Unhooking my bra with one hand, he gives me a cocky smile. I’m impressed, but I also know that it takes loads of practice to manage that feat that easily.

I am so out of my league with him.

Quickly, I take off my bra and then move to my panties before I lose my nerve.

“Leave those on,” he commands, and I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “I’ll get rid of them later.”

Sitting up, he takes a couple of condoms out of his pocket and tosses them on the bed, then stands up to get rid of his trousers and boxer briefs. His large, thick cock bobs with the motion, drops of precum beading on the end.

“You’re very prepared.”

He crawls up my body. “I was very optimistic.”

“But you know I’m a sure thing.”

“And you know you can always change your mind.” Brooks settles between my thighs and I spread my legs wider, the head of his erection brushing against me. “Have you changed your mind?”

“Can you take off my panties now?” I reply in answer, desperate to feel every inch of him against me. Skin to skin. Hardness to softness.

With a sexy grin, he tugs at the lace material until he can push them down my legs. I kick them the rest of the way off and he lies down between my thighs once more.

My hands go to his shoulders, following the broad lines and sweeping over his back. His eyes grow heavy-lidded and his sexy grin falls away.

“You feel so very good,” I whisper. “So very strong and muscular.”

He cups my breasts, kissing the tips of my hard nipples, then licks them. My back arches, wanting him to suck and bite and make me feel everything.

His hot mouth wraps around my nipple and I cry out, “Yes. Please. I want that.”

“What a polite girl. I’ll reward you.” He bites down on the tip, then runs his tongue around my areola and I moan. “Ask me sweetly, Charlotte, and I’ll fill you up. Give you the fucking you deserve.”

I’m so stunned that I don’t say anything.

Brooks takes that as permission to torture me more. He pushes me down on the bed and puts his head between my legs, his thumbs spreading my pussy apart and his tongue licking me, stroking me. I grab his hair, fisting my hands.

I want to tell him that he’s the first to do this, that before him…No, I won’t think of before him. I won’t think of anything but now and his tongue, his fingers…his lips.

I watch as two fingers slide inside me. He presses them against the back of my clit and I gasp. He leans down and sucks the swollen bud in his mouth. My hips buck against him, but he slings his arm over my abdomen and pins me down.

I like it so much that I don’t want him to stop. Not the licking, not the sucking…not his fingers or the way he’s prevented me from moving.

“Please, Brooks.” I don’t care how needy I sound. “I want you inside me. I want to ride you. Want you to ride me. I’ll take you however you want. Please.”

His lashes lift, his blue eyes heavy-lidded. “You need to come first.”

I nod, breathing heavily. “Hurry up.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He grins and sets back to work once more.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold on to his hair for dear life and take what he gives me. Take his fingers and his teeth nipping at me, his tongue swirling around my clit. His soft hair brushes the insides of my thighs. Thighs that are trembling and weak as he sends me straight over the edge.

It feels like I’m falling, but then I’m soaring and screaming his name so loudly that I’m sure my security will come bursting into the room. At this moment, I don’t care, because Brooks doesn’t stop flicking his tongue and I don’t stop screaming his name.

The door remains firmly closed.

“You taste amazing.” He grabs my hips and pulls me down to him, kissing my lips as soon as my mouth is in reach. “How was your orgasm?”

“Excellent.”

“Better than ever before?”

I flush hot. “Better than any I’ve given myself.”

He wriggles his eyebrows. “Hard to beat those.” Then he sobers. “But that’s not what you mean, not entirely, right?”

I shake my head, avoiding his gaze. “No.”

“I see.” He kisses me again, tenderly. Sweetly. It’s so confusing that I turn my face away from his.

“What do you see?”

“That you’ve been neglected more than I thought.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

He nuzzles the side of my neck, his mouth going lower and lower. “The last thing I feel for you is pity. Show me how you feel, Princess. Take my cock and put it where you want it the most—your hands, your pussy, your mouth…your ass.”

“You are so naughty,” I gasp, and he laughs.

“I came prepared for that, too,” he says in a low voice. “Up to you, though. Everything we do tonight is up to you.”

“Then I want to do this.” Guiding the head of his cock into me, I pause and say, “You’re very big.”

“All the better to fuck you with,” he says, but for some reason he pulls out. “A real cock is a million times better than a magic wand.” He winks at me and I want to sink into the mattress. Leaning over, he grabs something above my head and then looks at me again. “What?”

I scowl harder at him, even though I’m very pleased he remembered protection when I didn’t.

Gosh, Charlotte, could you be any more idiotic?

“Don’t quote fairy tales to me.”

He drops his head beside my ear and whispers, “You love fairy tales, sweetheart.”

“But you did some creative talking and added a vibrator to it!”

“I can always go home.” He tears open the package before rolling it down his hard length. He strokes himself, his big hand wrapped around his large cock. My core pulses and throbs in anticipation.

Mesmerized, I lick my lips. “No.”

“Are we done chatting?” he asks, almost throwing my earlier question back at me.

“Yes.”

He looks deep into my eyes and thrusts inside. Hard.

I gasp at the feeling, at how full I am and how stretched to the limit he’s taken me.

“Shit. You feel so damn good. So tight. Warm. Wet.” He drags his hips back and then plows forward again, grabbing my leg and hooking it over his arm. He groans my name.

“Brooks,” I whisper, lifting my hips to meet his. Sex has never felt this good. I’m not sure if it ever will again.

“Let’s try a different position.” He hooks my other leg over his arm and pulls me up into a sitting position. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m about to burst.”

“Can’t have that, gorgeous.” He rocks up and into me, over and over, his pace steady and insistent. “Take your time riding me. I don’t have anywhere to go. Anywhere I’d rather be, than here, in your sweet, wet pussy.”

He runs his hands up and down my back, allowing my legs to straddle his thighs. The change in position makes me sink even farther onto him, and I sigh and moan in pure pleasure.

His hand presses against the small of my back, his arm behind him as he braces himself against the bed. I bounce on his lap, letting out a little yelp when he captures a nipple with his mouth and begins to suck.

Lick.

Tease.

Torment.

Torture.

My head falls back, my long hair teasing my skin and his, judging by his swift intake of air.

“I’m so close,” I all but scream, and I never scream. Never. Ever. But this is Brooks inside of me. Brooks making my body go up in flames.

“I know you are, but you need to wait for it, baby. You’re going to come so hard if you do.” He pushes in deeper and I bite my lip, concentrating on not coming. “Knew you could take more of me. You’re almost there.”

Another wave of pleasure washes over me, forcing me closer to the edge. “I’m trying to wait.”

His hand comes between us, his fingers pressing and seeking. “Let go, sweetheart.”

I shatter into a million pieces, pieces that feel as light as air and hot as fire. I’m ash. Consumed by our passion.

Best.

Feeling.

Ever.

Ever.

He pounds into me hard, his breathing harsh and rough, his grip on my hips tight. My breasts bounce with the movement, hitting his chest, and he squeezes me tighter.

“Feel so fucking good,” he groans, his body taut. “Don’t want it to end.”

I want to watch him come, want to know if I can make him.

Sinking my fingernails into his shoulders, I suck on his neck, then his ear. “Come for me, Brooks,” I whisper right before I trace the shell of his ear with my tongue. I make my inner muscles clamp down on him. “Please come inside of me. Please.”

“Fuck me.” He holds himself still, then lets out a low groan, replete with curses as his body shakes with his orgasm. His head falls to my shoulder, his mouth pressing wet kisses to my skin.

For long moments he says nothing, and I can feel him jerk and move inside me as he continues to come.

He lifts his head, staring at me in awe. “I didn’t know it would be this good…with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Yeah.” His brows scrunch together, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “If I’d known how hot you’d get me, how hard you’d made me come…I would have crashed one of your charity balls a hell of a lot sooner.”

I burst out laughing. “I think I’m going to enjoy our affair.”

Brooks pulls out of me, disposing of the condom before he grabs my arm and pulls me into the bathroom. “Clearly I have my work cut out for me.”

“Clear to everyone but me.” Confused, I watch as he turns on the shower. Water explodes from the multiple showerheads and steam begins to waft to the high ceiling.

“Get in the shower.”

Hot water hits my sensitive skin as I step inside, Brooks right behind me. His hands come to rest on my waist, then he spins me around.

“How’s the temperature?” he asks.

I tip up my chin, gazing at him through lashes dripping with water. He’s broad chested, his abs lightly dusted with golden hair that ultimately leads to a happy trail pointing the way to his magnificent cock.

“I approve.”

He smiles and drops to his knees, presses me against the wall and lifts my leg, resting my foot on one of his perfectly sculpted broad shoulders.

My eyes nearly drop out of my head.

“What are you—?” My question ends in a moan and it’s all because the man kneeling at my feet is tonguing me to another orgasm.