Zelda

I didn’t have to act too hard when Rowan swept me into his arms like some kind of swashbuckling hero. It was shocking and very sexy, and Reggie was right. A little damsel in distress helped get both of us on the right page, at least temporarily. In the moonlight, as he carried me, I was able to study him up close.

He’s such a focused, brooding fellow. His dark hair is a little too long, but it hangs in attractive waves around his temple and collar. His square jaw and lowered brow give him a sexy-menacing look that I’m sure sends panties flying. I know my heart beat a little faster when he looked at me. He’s strong and confident, and he’s got the bossy king persona down pat. But what nails it all, the icing on the cake, are his gorgeous blue eyes. They glow in all that dark deliciousness like the turquoise waters we just left behind.

Once we reach the house, he lowers me onto one of the cushioned loungers and kneels at the end, taking my injured foot in his large hands. I don’t miss Cal lurking in the background, arms crossed and frowning. It makes me want to tease him. I want to ask him if he’s jealous. What the hell? Get it together, Zelda!

“Does this hurt?” Rowan slides his hand up to the ball of my foot and gently pushes it toward me. I’m so glad I opted for that paraffin pedicure. My foot’s as soft as a baby’s bottom right now, and my nails are painted shimmering coral.

“It’s a little stiff,” I answer, giving him a smile.

“And this?” His hand slides over the top of my foot, slowly pulling it toward his chest in a point.

“That feels okay.”

Our eyes meet, and his lovely blue ones are warm. Suddenly my oversized rose-gold phone appears in my face. I jump back and glance up at Cal, who is giving me a perturbed look.

“You wanted to call your friend, remember?”

“My friend?” I’m confused. Oh, shit! “Ava! Of course.”

“Hmm,” he says and walks away.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Rowan stands. “Let me know when you’re ready to go up. I’ll find something you can wear to sleep.”

“Thank you.”

I decide to send a text rather than call, since I’m pretty sure she’s asleep. I’m partway through when Reggie peeks out onto the terrace. He looks quickly back in the room before hustling over to where I sit.

“Great work!” His eyes are shining. “That ankle injury is just what we needed.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” I grumble, looking down at my stupid foot. “I was going to try drowning.”

“This is better. Use it to your advantage. I’ll check back later to see how it’s going.”

He pats my head and returns to the living room, where I hear him telling Rowan goodnight and to keep him posted on my status. I finish my text just as Rowan returns to my side.

“Ready to go up?” His low voice is warm, and I give him a smile.

“If I’d known you’d be carrying me all around the place tonight, I’d have eaten less dinner.”

I’m in his arms in one quick sweep. “You’re not heavy. I already told you.”

We’re back in that intimate embrace, his dark, square jaw and shimmering eyes mere inches from my face. I wonder if I should try to kiss him? Is that too fast? Reggie would probably suggest I get the party started, but I don’t entirely get Crown Prince Rowan Westringham Tate. He’s such a serious person. Instead, I put my hand behind his neck, allowing my fingers to lightly thread in his dark hair.

He stops to open a large, white door, and we step into a bedroom that almost makes my eyes bug out. It’s similar to the dining room with beige stone walls and exposed wood beams lining the ceiling. A huge bed is at the back wall beside another enormous, arched window. It’s covered in the softest-looking duvet, I know I’ll sleep like a baby in it. A brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and six small pictures are arranged in a pattern beside an enormous flat-screen television, which hangs above the beige painted-brick fireplace.

Rowan carries me to an overstuffed loveseat with an oversized ottoman in front of it. A tray holding a crystal decanter of water topped by a matching crystal glass, a gold-rimmed saucer with two adorable, pale-purple cookies, and two discreet blue-gel capsules on a linen napkin is on one half of the ottoman. Rowan lowers me onto the small couch and props my injured foot on the other half.

“You thought of everything,” I say as he sits beside me on the edge of the small sofa.

“I can’t take credit. The kitchen sent that up.”

His toned thigh is warm against my leg as I lean forward. “Ibuprofen, and… What are these little cookies?”

“Lavender macaroons. I highly recommend them.” He smiles and waits a moment. “Will you be okay? I’ll have one of the staff bring up a cane so you can get around.”

“I’m sure I can walk on it. You don’t have to carry me everywhere.”

“You couldn’t have walked up those stairs, but if you think you’re fine, I’ll say goodnight.”

My lip is back under my teeth. Should I go for a kiss? Reggie is going to kick my ass if I don’t at least get a kiss out of all this drama. I’m beginning to hate this con. Of all the jobs I’ve done, I never let emotions enter the picture. I feel like a bad Cinderella, playing games with the handsome prince’s heart. I don’t believe he’s as careless as Reggie makes him out to be, or as much of a threat to his country’s security.

He starts to rise, and with a heavy heart, I smile. “Doesn’t the gallant prince deserve a kiss?”

Looking down at me, I see the hesitation in his eyes. I hold my smile, even tilting my head to the side in a playful way. Something changes in him. That intimidating focus returns, and he sits beside me, closer this time.

My heart beats faster as he reaches for my cheek and pulls my mouth to his. Our lips touch, but he doesn’t push mine apart. He doesn’t plunge his tongue inside, taking no prisoners the way his brother did at the museum. Instead he kisses me gently, a few times in quick succession. It’s very tender and curious.

With a deep breath he leans back and looks into my eyes a moment. I don’t say anything. It was a very nice kiss. Nice.

“Goodnight, then,” he says and goes to the door, leaving the room without a look back.

I exhale a big sigh and lean forward to scoop up the pain relievers. My foot isn’t really injured. I know from experience, it’ll ache tonight and be fine tomorrow. I step gingerly on it and do a little skippy-walk to the bed where an enormous lavender silk gown is lying.

My mohair sweater and damp leggings are off, and I pull the giant thing over my head. It’s luxurious, soft as whipped cream, and clearly expensive. The bodice is a crisscross network of tucks and ruffles, and the silk belt is longer than my arms. I suppose it should be tied at the back, but I need to use it to lift the whole contraption up and tie it around my neck.

“I never sleep in a gown!” I whisper to myself as I limp over to the oval, full-length mirror in the corner. “I look like a little girl in her granny’s clothes!”

It makes me giggle, when I hear a soft rap on the door. It’s some maid bringing me a cane, I’m sure. What an old grandpa Rowan is, I think, shaking my head. A sexy old grandpa, I add.

I jump when I see Cal leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in loose pajama pants. His lined torso is easily visible through the thin button-up he’s wearing. The moment he sees me, he explodes with laughter.

“What the hell are you wearing? A tent?”

My face flares red. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought you something to sleep in.” He holds out a bottle of champagne. “And this to kill the pain.”

“Leave it on the table.” I turn and pull (and pull and pull) the sides of the nightgown up so I can skippy-trot back to the love seat.

“You’re going to break your neck as well as your ankle in that thing.” He follows me inside the room and closes the door. “If you don’t drown in silk first.”

“My ankle isn’t broken. Anyway, your brother brought me ibuprofen and this gown to sleep in.”

He shakes his head. “What a shocking lack of imagination.”

“I think he must have a pretty great imagination if he thought this would fit me.” I look down at all the silk pooling in my lap. “Or I really was incredibly heavy, and he was only being nice.” Nice. Like that kiss.

“My brother’s an idiot. Here,” Cal drops a small stack of clothes in my lap. “You’ll sleep in this. Go change.”

“And where do you suggest I do that?”

“Around the side of the fireplace. I won’t look.” My eyes narrow, and he holds up both hands. “I promise.”

“I haven’t decided if you’re honest.”

“Smart girl.”

Standing, I gather (and gather and gather) the sides of the gown so I can limp to the somewhat hidden corner beside the fireplace.

“You haven’t eaten your macaroons!”

“Help yourself,” I call, placing the navy tee and boxers he brought me on the edge of the fireplace.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says quietly.

I quickly pull the silk circus tent over my head. Cool air swirls around my bare breasts, tightening my nipples, but I’m only exposed long enough to toss the gown on the bed and whip his tee over my head. My senses flood with the deliciously spicy man-scent of Cal’s shirt, and I’m stepping into the shorts when I glance up and catch his hazel eyes in the oval mirror.

I straighten fast, pulling up the boxers and then jamming my hands on my hips. “You watched me change.”

He looks down, but the sides of his mouth curl in a grin. “It’s true. I did. I couldn’t help it. You have great tits.”

“You are not a gentleman.”

“True again. Sorry.” He peeks up, humor lurking in those damn irresistible eyes. “But you already knew that part, didn’t you? As smart as you are?”

My lips twist as I try not to smile. I will not let him get to me this time. It sounds like the cry of the defeated in my brain.

“You’re a prince. You’re supposed to be noble and all that shit.”

“Lies, all lies. I blame Walt Disney for that propaganda.” He leans forward to pour two glasses of champagne, and I limp to the sofa again, still doing my best to be angry.

“Princes are only noble because of our parents,” he continues, handing me a glass. I take a sip of the sparkling wine. “Otherwise, we’re just like every other male.”

“How’s that?”

“Looking to get laid.”

I nearly choke. “Well… go look in some other room.”

“Really?” He makes a sad-puppy face and my insides squeal. “I like this room. It’s one of my new favorite rooms.”

Shifting my position, I find the remote under my butt. I pull it out and turn on the television. “Then you have to watch TV.”

A French-dubbed Saved by the Bell pops up, and I can’t help thinking perfect. It’s not romantic in any way.

Cal makes a little growly noise that makes me grin and shifts his position to watch. Our sides are touching now, from waist to hip to knee in a blazing line I fight to ignore. I take another sip of wine.

After a few minutes of watching a fuzzyheaded Screech follow the gang around wearing enormous goggles, he finally asks, “Are all American high schools like this?”

“This is as true to American high schools as Disney is to princes.”

“Touché.”

We resume silently watching, when I notice two fingers wiggling beneath my palm. My eyes flicker down to where Cal is doing a not-so-sneaky job trying to hold my hand.

He sees me catch him and laughs. “Give me that remote.” He puts his glass down before snatching the black rectangle from my hand. Channels flicker past like a kaleidoscope, until he stops on one. Woody Harrelson is at a craps table with a group of partying ladies. “This is more like it.”

It takes a moment to realize what it is. “Indecent Proposal?” My nose wrinkles as I finish my glass. “Gag.”

“Don’t tell me you hate movies.”

“I love movies. I hate stupid ones that are totally unbelievable and rely on such obvious emotional pandering to attract viewers.”

“Big words, Miss Benedict. I think you really love it.”

“I do not!” I dive for the remote, but he laughs and leans back, putting us chest to chest, with me on top.

“Hmm…” He slides a hand under my tee and over the bare skin of my lower back. Chills skate across my arms, and my entire body heats. “I think you like this.”

Lowering my forehead to his chest, I hesitate only a moment before pushing myself out of his arms and sitting on the opposite side of the small sofa. I’m flustered and horny, and my brain feels swirly.

We watch Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson lose round after round on the roulette table until all their money is gone, and Moore starts to cry.

“Idiots,” I grumble. “Roulette is the worst game you can play in a casino. It has the highest odds in favor of the house, and they increase with every spin. Why didn’t they quit and go back to craps?”

Cal chuckles from the other end of the sofa, and I look down to see him watching me. “You know a lot about gambling.”

Whoops. I blink fast trying to find an excuse. “My dad liked to gamble.”

“Liked?” He pushes to a sitting position and slides closer to where I’m perched.

“He died when I was really young.”

Warm hands go around my waist, and Cal pulls me onto his lap, facing him in a straddle. Only, I won’t meet his eyes. I keep my head turned, my gaze fixed on the television.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pressing a fiery kiss to the base of my neck.

Clearing my throat, my breath comes faster. “It was a long time ago,” I manage to whisper.

His arms are at my waist, and his kisses move up the side of my neck until he’s at my ear. “Still, I’m sorry you lost your dad. I know how that feels.”

My whole body shivers, and I try to pull away. His arms only tighten around me. “Where are you going?”

“Cal…”

I feel his arousal hard against my thigh. My hands hold his biceps, and we’re nose to nose, sharing our breath. He looks deep into my eyes.

“Let’s say you and me do some good old-fashioned fucking, Zelda Benedict.”

I blink fast, away from his gaze. “I can’t,” I whisper, even though my insides are liquid, and my lips heavy with desire.

“Sure you can,” he whispers, leaning forward to cover my mouth with his.

Fingers thread into the sides of my hair, and his kiss is even more passionate than before. It’s hungry and demanding, and I’m losing the fight this time.

Cal doesn’t gently request, he invades, pillaging my senses. We lean back on the couch, and he’s above me, moving my mouth with his. I’m not stopping him. I’m desperate with desire. My hands are on his neck, and I’m kissing him back, hungrily keeping time with his movements.

He pulls away, and a little noise of disappointment comes from my throat. It makes him smile as he reaches down and lifts me off the couch.

“Don’t worry, sexy. I’m nowhere near finished with you tonight.”

“Cal…” My brain is fighting with me to get control, but he tosses me onto the bed, pulling his shirt off in one swift move.

My protests die when I see his bare body. He’s ripped and golden, beautiful, lean and muscular, and his light brown hair is tousled and tempting. My eyes trail down the lines of his stomach, getting tangled in the V at his hips, and all rational thought vanishes.

“Now you,” he says, climbing on his knees beside me on the bed.

He takes the hem of the shirt I’m wearing and lifts it over my head. My instinct is to cover my bare breasts, but he catches my arms.

“No way,” he grins, leaning us back on the bed. “Your tits are far too gorgeous for you to hide them.”

My face heats, and I start to laugh. “Stop it.”

He leans over me, then lowers gently until our bare bodies are stomach to stomach, skin against skin. We both exhale a groan.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, moving his lips over my shoulders.

I can only whimper, “So do you.” I am so screwed right now.

I can’t stop him as he slides lower, covering my left nipple with his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before giving it a firm suck that registers straight between my legs.

“Oh, god!” I gasp as he moves to the other side to repeat. His hand is on me, giving my nipple a pinch before moving up. I meet his eyes as he pushes his thumb between my teeth.

Closing my lips around that thick digit, I give it a suck, and his eyes darken. “Fuck me,” he groans, rising up fast to claim my mouth again.

I’m on fire. Energy hums up and down my thighs. I’m so close to coming, he only has to touch me once more, and I’ll explode.

“I knew it would be like this,” he breathes, cupping my lips with his. “You are so fucking passionate. I want to fuck you so hard.”

“Cal, oh, god!” Those seem to be the only three words my obliterated brain can conjure.

I’m so ready for him to be inside me, and he’s gone, sliding down my body, kissing my sternum, my navel, then jerking the boxers off my hips.

“Oh, shit, bare pussy,” he groans before wrapping his forearms around my hips and pulling me to his mouth.

One slow sweep of his tongue across my clit, and I cry out. I’m trembling and exploding, pleasure snaking up my thighs like a vine. I can’t remember the last time I had sex, but lord knows it wasn’t with anyone like MacCallam Lockwood Tate.

“Jesus,” he gasps.

“Please,” I beg.

He hops off the bed so fast, I just barely see the large erection tenting his PJ pants before they’re gone. A rip of foil, a quick roll of condom, and he’s back above me.

“You are amazing,” he says.

“If you don’t fuck me now—”

A hard thrust, and we both cry out.

“Oh, yes!” I moan.

“Jesus, god,” he grinds.

He’s hard and huge and perfect, stretching and massaging me in the most erotic way. His hips speed up, moving fast and punishing, demanding, taking, holding my face as he kisses me roughly. I can only grasp his shoulders and ride this out. I’m building to my second orgasm, and he’s taking me there by delicious force.

Our bodies are covered in sweat. A bead rolls from his beautiful, messy hair to the scruff of his square jaw, and I lean up to lick it away. Salt fills my mouth just before he turns and covers it with his.

He’s rocking, and I’m soaring. We’re holding onto each other when the sky explodes. My hips buck and clench, and he groans my name. I feel him pulsing inside me, filling the condom, coming deep between my thighs as my muscles hold him, pulling more and more.

“So fucking good.” He kisses my neck.

Our arms are around each other, and his forehead rests on my shoulder. We don’t move for several moments as our breathing starts to calm, as our bodies start to come down.

I’ve never been fucked like that in my life, but it’s more than that. I feel like I understand what the term making love means, which is insane. I’m not here to be Cal’s girlfriend, and lord knows this “playboy prince” has a reputation for getting around. Reggie somehow worked that into a previous conversation.

“Zelda,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against my skin, cutting off my spiraling thoughts. “You are amazing.”

I exhale a laugh. “High praise, I’m sure.”

His head pops up and he grins, resting it on his hand. “It is, actually, but I mean it. You’re as good as you look. Better.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about it.”

That makes him laugh, and he leans down to give me a firm kiss. It lingers a bit longer, warm and delicious until he breaks away.

“I swear that mouth drives me crazy.”

“You’re not too shabby with yours.” Reaching out, I touch his bottom lip with my thumb. He drops his chin and bites me, sending a little thrill through my midsection.

“I’d barely even started.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Just wait until Round 2.”

A shiver passes through me, and his eyes darken. “You like that, don’t you, dirty girl. I’ve been trying to get in your pants since that night at the ball.”

He’s teasing, and I pretend to pout. “And now that you have, you’ve lost all respect for me.”

“Never! I have very high respect for women who are dynamite in the sack. I plan to take advantage of you several more times tonight.”

I can’t help laughing. “Several?”

“How is your ankle?”

“I don’t even feel it.”

“That’s good, although I suppose your riding me tonight is out of the question.”

Pressing my lips together, I do a little frown. “I probably shouldn’t sit on it, which means I probably shouldn’t sit on you.”

“Shit.” He props his head on his hand and traces a finger along my lips. “I have this fantasy of you on top of me, straight up, bucking those hips, this gorgeous hair falling all around your tits.” He leans down and kisses me again. “I’m getting a semi just thinking about it.”

“You’re insatiable. Give me a chance to breathe.”

“Come here,” he rolls onto his back and pulls my cheek to his chest. I listen to his heartbeat as he threads his fingers into the back of my hair. “I wanted to punch Rowan in the nuts tonight when he swept you up in his arms like some kind of fucking superhero.”

“Hmm,” I say, feeling my eyes growing heavy. “That was a great moment. You should try it sometime.”

“I fucking would’ve if he hadn’t. Show off. I saw you first.”

“Mm-hm.” I say through an exhale, my cheek blissfully pressed to his toned chest.

On the television, I watch as Demi Moore takes a dollar coin from Robert Redford that has tails on both sides and gets out of his limo.

“Dumb movie,” I grumble, and I feel Cal chuckle.

“It’s my favorite part.”

“I hope you’re teasing. She should’ve stayed with him. Who lets their wife have sex with another man for money?”

Cal’s fingers slide across the back of my neck. “They did a pretty good job of making them out to be desperate. I don’t know from personal experience, but I don’t think desperate people always make smart decisions.”

A lump forms in my throat as I think about his words. I think about my situation, and the decisions I’ve made. I know what it’s like to be desperate. Closing my eyes, I try to push away the guilt of what I’ve done, but I’m not sure I can.

His fingers still. “Are you falling asleep?”

I barely nod. I don’t want to think about personal experience and wrong choices. I want to sleep in Cal’s arms and pretend nothing else is waiting outside this room.

“I think I’m feeling the wine,” I say softly.

“And all the strenuous activity.”

“Mm… that too.”

He gently moves me to the side, curling his body around my back. I slide my palm down his forearm and lace our fingers together as I allow his warmth to comfort me. It only takes a few moments for me to slip into unconsciousness.

---

My eyes pop open as the sun is just lighting the horizon. The sound of heavy breathing is at my back, and my heart sinks. Oh god, I’ve ruined everything!

Without even looking back, I slowly move to the edge of the bed and slip my legs out, rising as gently as I can without shaking the mattress. It’s one of those foam mattresses, and Cal doesn’t even stir.

He’s lying on his back sleeping soundly, and I take a moment to admire his beautiful body. The white sheet is draped across his waist, and in the dim light, the lines of his muscles are deep and defined. Everything in me wants to crawl back in bed, wake him, and take care of that morning wood, but I know that would be a huge mistake. Even bigger than the one I made last night.

As quietly as possible, I step into my leggings and pull them on. My ankle is stiff, but as I predicted, it’s much better this morning. I think about Cal’s fantasy and my body warms. I could ride him today… Ugh! Fuck my life.

Shaking that away, I pick up my sweater, but instead of wearing it, I pull on Cal’s navy tee. It smells like him, and I bury my nose in the collar as I watch him sleeping. My chest aches, but I know what I have to do. Picking up my purse, I creep to the door, and with one last look, I disappear.