The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  “Save your breath.”

  The elevator stopped at the basement and its doors opened. I’d been heading to the gym.

  “We live in the same building. You could have knocked on my door.” She folded her arms.

  I had to try very hard not to smile. She was so pretty, despite her mood. Maybe even because of her mood.

  “Are you getting out?” she asked.

  I shook my head and she started jabbing at the seventh-floor button. “I couldn’t knock on your door. I know you live on the seventh floor because you complained about the stomping on your ceiling, but there are five apartments down there. Trust me.” I pulled her chin up with my index finger. “I counted them on Thursday evening.”

  Her stare was blank. “It’s Monday, Max.”

  It was strange, hearing my name on her lips again. Last time I heard it she’d been about to climax.

  I reached out and smoothed her hair over her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” It was true; I was. Since the day Amanda was born, I’d sworn I wouldn’t be the guy who messed around with women. If I didn’t want anyone to do it to my daughter, I couldn’t very well do it to someone else’s. I might only have casual relationships, but I didn’t ever pretend it was anything more. “I wasn’t ignoring you. Frankly, I hadn’t expected you to have gone when I woke up. I thought we’d talk before work.”

  “Yeah, well I wanted to be at work on time.” She shrugged and I’d taken a half step toward her when the doors opened. I liked her sass. The employees at King & Associates came packaged earnest and compliant. Other than Donna, everyone just nodded their heads and said yes to me. At home, the world tipped on its head, and it was a miracle if I ever got anyone to say yes to anything. Harper continued to blur the boundaries between my work and personal life.

  “You made me late,” I said, not ready for our conversation to be over.

  “What are you doing?” Harper asked as I followed her out of the elevator. “This isn’t your floor.”

  “I want to talk to you.” I wasn’t sure what I was doing. What could I say to her? “I want to apologize,” I said decisively. “For the other night. I shouldn’t have taken advantage in the way I did.” It was just that all the fantasies that had been filling my brain since she started at King & Associates had come rushing back when she’d stood semi-naked in front of me.

  She opened her front door, stepped into her apartment, and spun to face me. “Take advantage? Jesus, you’re such a fucking asshole.” She tried to slam the door shut but I stuck my foot in the way.

  “Get the fuck out,” she yelled.

  “I think you’re beautiful,” I said and pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Beautiful, but supremely fucking irritating.”

  She stared at me, her mouth open as if I’d just stolen all her words. Then she turned, threw her purse down, and stomped over to her bed. I glanced around. Her apartment was tiny and full of things everywhere including piles of books stacked on the floor and shoes wherever I looked. The bed was over to one side, where the floor was slightly raised. She kicked off her shoes and started to undo her blouse. I hardened immediately. She was undressing?

  “Harper,” I said as I followed her.

  “I’m irritating?” she asked.

  I didn’t know how to react. I wanted to pin her down and make her listen to me. Kiss her. Fuck her.

  “I’m irritating?” She shook her head in disbelief and turned to face me. “I’m fucking irritating?”

  How could I make her see what I meant? I grabbed one of her hands, pulled her toward me, and kissed her. She broke free and pushed at my chest, but I snaked my arms around her so she couldn’t escape. Eventually, she stopped trying to move away from me, accepted she was trapped, and stilled. “Kiss me, Harper,” I said. “Do as I say.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she said as she punched me in the shoulder.

  I brought my hands to her face and her lips to mine. She didn’t resist. I snaked my tongue into her mouth and found hers hot and ready. I groaned against her lips and slid my hand down to her ass, to pull her against me so she could feel my erection. Her fingers slid into my hair and our kisses became frantic, biting and greedy.

  She ended our kiss and moved away. “Max?”

  I wasn’t sure what came next. Why had she pulled out of my arms? Was she going to ask me to leave? “Yes?” I replied.

  “Get your clothes off and fuck me,” she said.

  I grinned as she began to undo the rest of the buttons on her shirt, her fingers fumbling over each one.

  “Come here,” I said as I knocked her hands out of the way.

  “Be careful with that. This blouse is new and I can’t afford to replace it.”

  I’d undone the buttons before she’d finished her sentence and slid the silk over her shoulders. Her skin looked so smooth that I bent to kiss the exposed, bronzed flesh, desperate to feel her under my lips. She tipped her head back and I grinned against her skin.

  “Asshole, huh?” I pulled off my running top and stepped out of my shorts.

  “Do you want me to change my mind?” She cocked her hip, the bra straps falling from her shoulders.

  “You’re not going to change your mind,” I said, leaning toward her, pushing her skirt up around her waist, and thrusting my hand into her underwear.

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice breathy. “I can’t ruin this skirt. I just bought it.” My fingers pressed into her folds and though she wasn’t fighting me off, I could tell she was concerned about her clothes. Why?

  “Lie down,” I said, guiding her to the bed, where I quickly slid off her skirt and panties.

  “Max . . .”

  I wanted to sink into the way she called my name.

  “Yes?” I kissed up the inside of her thigh, along her soft, tight skin, reaching her pussy. I gave her one long lick over her slit but continued to work my way up over her belly and between her breasts. The pace was slower than last week. Her anger had ebbed away and just existed in the way every now and then she scored her fingernails up my arms or whispered, “You’re an asshole,” as I continued to kiss and lick and suck her entire body.

  She reached above her head, pointing at her nightstand. “Condom,” she said. She might think I was an asshole, but she didn’t mind my dick. I grabbed a condom and as quickly as I could, rolled it on. As I lay on my back, Harper rose off the bed and began to straddle me.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, pushing her to her back. “I’m fucking you. You’re not fucking me.” I nudged her knees wide with my legs and pushed into her. Her eyebrows pulled together as she concentrated on not making the sound of pleasure I could tell was rippling below the surface. I pulled out and thrust in, wanting to set that moan free.

  “If you’re going to fuck me, you’d better make it good,” she said.

  Highly. Fucking. Irritating.

  She knew this was so fucking good. I grabbed her leg and lifted it, going deeper, showing how good it was.

  She bit down on her lip, still swallowing her reactions.

  “Really? You’re not going to tell me how good this is?” I asked, panting, pushing into her, feeling her pulse beneath me. “You’re not going to say how this is the best you’ve ever had?” I slammed into her, pushing her up the bed, my jaw tightening.

  “Fuck you,” she bit out.

  “You know it is. You love my dick inside you, making you come. You can’t get enough.”

  A deep moan ripped from her chest. Finally.

  “There, you see? You just need to give in and realize how good I make you feel.”

  She tightened around me, lifting her hips to meet my thrusts. A rumble vibrated up my throat at the dizzying sensation. “So. Fucking. Good.”

  She scratched her nails so hard down my back it interrupted my rhythm. When I glanced at her, she grinned. I pulled her arms down and slid my palms against hers, pinning her to the mattress, and began to push into her again. “Watch your manners, Ms. Jayne. If you’re not careful, I wo
n’t let you come.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “As if you could stop me.”

  She had no idea.

  I stilled. “Wanna test that theory?” She squirmed underneath me, desperate for more of my cock. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

  “You’re an arrogant pig,” she spat out and turned her head to the side.

  “I think what you meant to say is ‘thank you for fucking me.’” I moved on top of her, grinding into her. I might be baiting her, but really I wanted to scream at how perfect she was, how good she made me feel. All these months of denying I wanted her burst out. Harper Jayne was every bit as sexy, passionate, and greedy as I’d imagined.

  Her breaths were short and needy and her sounds louder and less and less controlled.

  “You’re beautiful. And sexy and—” I paused a second. I had to be careful I didn’t come first. “And you drive me crazy at work.” I thrust again. “Because I want to bend you over my desk and drive my cock into you. Just. Like. That.”

  She screamed as she came, rippling around me, pulling my come from my cock, milking it, owning it. I couldn’t resist her and came, roaring her name.

  I collapsed on top of her and savored the feel of my hot skin covering hers.

  Rolling onto my back, I reached out and slid her into my arms.

  “You looking for a high five?” she asked and I chuckled.

  “Stop being annoying for five seconds and come here,” I said. She moved a few inches closer and settled into me. “So irritating.” I kissed the top of her head.

  After a few minutes she pushed herself up on her elbow. “Do you really think about fucking me over your desk?”

  I groaned. “You can’t question me on stuff I say while I’m fucking.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Is this some rule I don’t know about?”

  “Yes, it’s a rule. The first rule of dirty talk is that after you come, you don’t discuss what was said in the heat of the moment.”

  I expected abuse in response, but she was quiet for a few moments before saying, “Oh. I didn’t know.” It was such an uncharacteristic reply. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking but despite the fact that three minutes ago I’d been fucking her, it seemed like prying.

  I pulled her closer.

  “Did you look at my revised Bangladesh report?”

  Did she really just ask me that? “No.”

  “No?” she asked. “You’ve had it nearly a week.” She ran her fingertips over my chest.

  “No, we’re not talking about it now. Fucking hell, Harper, I just came like five seconds ago. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact that fucking you is totally inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate?” she yelled. Were we back to the shouting already? “Get the fuck out of my bed.” She tried to push me off the mattress.

  Jesus. I couldn’t do anything right with this girl. Except make her come, apparently.

  I gripped her wrists and she started to kick me, so I rolled her to her back and pinned her thighs to the bed to stop her thrashing. “Jesus, woman, you go from zero to sixty in a millisecond.” She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side.

  “Get off me.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s wrong and why you’re freaking out.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  At least she turned and looked at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You just told me fucking me is inappropriate. Like your body acted without your consent. And you expect me not to have a reaction to that? You’re an—”

  “Asshole,” I said, finishing her sentence. “Yes, I heard you the first fifteen thousand times you said it.” I released her and rolled off the bed, pissed she was giving me such a hard time every second of every minute of every day. I was her boss; of course it was inappropriate for me to fuck her. I grabbed my shorts and T-shirt and dressed quickly.

  “And now you’re just going to go?” she asked, propped up on her elbows, her perfectly round tits begging me to come back to bed.

  “Did you forget that you ordered me out of your apartment?”

  “Whatever.” She leapt out of bed and barged into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Fucking hell. She was a total pain in the ass. Beautiful. Talented. Sexy. Perfectly infuriating.

  Had I been an asshole? She was irritating, but maybe I shouldn’t have told her fucking her was inappropriate right after we had sex. I wasn’t used to having to mind what I said with the women I was fucking.

  I sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for twenty minutes for her to emerge.

  “Hi,” she said when she finally came out wearing a towel. Her eyes kept flickering from me to the floor.

  “Hi,” I replied. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” I never meant to upset the women in my life but it happened far too often.

  “Mean it or not, you did.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe you don’t realize how you come off.”

  I scrubbed my hands over my face. “I’m not good with . . .” How did I say I wasn’t used to having to interact with the women I was fucking outside the bedroom?

  “Women?” She finished my sentence for me, arching her eyebrow.

  “I don’t want to piss you off, Harper.” Yes it would be awkward at work, but I actually liked the girl. “I’m the person who signs your paychecks. That’s all I was trying to say.”

  “You need to think about what you say before you say it.”

  I nodded. “I’ll do better in the future.”

  She stepped toward me. “Okay. The future starts now, right?”

  I pulled her onto my lap. I cupped her neck and pressed my lips against hers. Immediately I wanted her again. It wasn’t as if we were in the office anyway. Here we were neighbors, not colleagues. I tugged at her towel and it fell away from her body.

  “Yeah. The future starts right now.”

  * * *

  The next morning I got into the office extra early. I was trying to finish going through Harper’s Bangladesh report. I didn’t want any other reason for Harper to think I was an asshole.

  “I said no calls, Donna,” I barked into my speakerphone, then hung up.

  My door burst open and I slammed my hand on my desk as I looked up.

  “Max, you’re going to want to take this call,” Donna said. I seriously doubted it. Other than something happening to Amanda—shit. “Press line one.”

  Instead of leaving me to take the call, she shut the door and leaned against it, a huge grin on her face. Amanda must be okay if Donna was smiling. In fact, this probably was Amanda telling me she’d been asked to her eighth grade dance.

  Just as I picked up the receiver and punched line one, Donna said, “Charles Jayne.”

  Fuck.

  Charles Jayne was the founder and senior partner of JD Stanley. His investment bank didn’t use outside firms, but I wanted them to make an exception for King & Associates. I’d been hounding them for years. They didn’t use outside firms, but I wanted them to make an exception for King & Associates.

  “Max King,” I answered, trying to keep my voice level as my foot tapped against the desk leg.

  “I hear you’ve been making quite a nuisance of yourself with my director of global research,” a man with a deep voice said on the other end of the phone.

  Shit, had I pushed things too far? My contact had given me the inside track on Harold Barker. Apparently he liked tennis, so I’d suggested he join me in my box at the US Open later in the summer. I’d invited him to the Met once when I’d run into him at a cocktail reception, but he’d politely declined. I was hoping tennis would hit the spot.

  “It’s a pleasure to speak to you, sir. I’m not sure I’d describe myself as a nuisance. I just think that we could do a lot for JD Stanley, and I’d like an opportunity to show you what’s possible.”

  “Yes, well, that much you’ve made clear,” he replied. “Which is why I’m calling. Come in on the twenty-fourth and tell us a lit
tle about what you do at King & Associates.”

  Holy crap.

  “Yes, sir. What—”

  “Ten sharp. You better live up to your hype.”

  Before I could ask him how long we had, who would be in the room, what he wanted to know, the line went dead. I guess when you were Charles Jayne, you didn’t want to waste a second.

  I hung up and stared at the phone.

  Donna bounded across the room. “Well? What did he want?”

  “To give me the opportunity of my career.” Had that really just happened? Just like that, Charles Jayne had called and invited me in for a meeting.

  “He’s going to hire you?”

  I shrugged. “He wants me to go in for a meeting on the twenty-fourth.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Donna said. “Looks like Harper was a smart hire.”

  What? I stared at her, expecting her to explain.

  “I’m sure your networking helped, but hiring Harper was genius.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Well, she’s his daughter, right?”

  “Harper?” Harper Jayne. I’d never made the connection.

  “You didn’t know?” Donna asked. “That wasn’t the reason you hired her?”

  “Jesus, you must think I’m a real prick. I wouldn’t hire someone just because they had a connection to Charles Jayne. And since when do I get involved with hiring junior researchers?”

  Is that what Harper thought? But how could she? She didn’t know about my obsession with JD Stanley. “Are you sure that Charles Jayne is Harper’s father?” I asked. “I mean, has she acknowledged it? Have you spoken about it?”

  Donna blinked. “No, I just assumed, with her name and all. I’ve never mentioned it.”

  “Could be a coincidence,” I said, thinking out loud.

  “Do you want me to ask her?”

  Did I? I wanted to know if there was a connection. Had she arranged the meeting?

  My mind was a mess. Was Harper just here to spy on things before Charles Jayne decided to invite me to pitch?

  “No, I’ll ask her. Can you call her in?”

  I slid my palms down the front of my pants. I wasn’t sure if I was on edge from speaking to Charles Jayne or because I was about to speak to Harper.