The Royals Series

by Bay, Louise

  “I’m sure we can find someone who likes the smell of cow shit.” I grinned and Darcy chuckled. “What about physically? What’s your type?” I narrowed my eyes, trying to take in all the men in the bar who looked potentially single and in the right age bracket. This was clearly some kind of Mecca for the good-looking and rich, because there were plenty of handsome men in expensive suits. I spotted the back of one man’s head that looked very familiar and my breath caught. Shit, Knightley.

  I shouldn’t be surprised. This seemed like his kind of place—moody, with overpriced drinks. I pulled my shoulders back and kept my gaze fixed on him, waiting for him to turn around. Would he come over? I glanced at his companion, who was facing me. She was a beautiful blonde woman around my age who wore a very low-cut blouse. My gut churned. They looked like they were on a date. My pulse sped as he grasped the arms of the chair and stood. As he headed to the other side of the bar, I realized it wasn’t Knightley at all, but rather someone not half as broad, or tall, or handsome.

  Fuck, I was imagining him.

  What was the matter with me? I grabbed my glass and downed my cocktail, wincing at the burn of the alcohol in my throat.

  “I like blonds,” Darcy said. “That floppy-haired, laid-back thing always gets me.”

  I nodded. “Like that guy?” I lifted my chin to indicate a guy ordering drinks at the bar who wore a very loud pink shirt and a pinky ring.

  She shrugged. “Maybe. But my life is the estate. There’s no point boyfriend hunting in London.”

  “You’re only an hour away, and like you said, you’re not going to find Mr. Right on your doorstep. You don’t even have neighbors.”

  The floppy-haired blond collected a couple of drinks and went to one of the tables on the other side of the bar where a taller, dark-haired guy was sitting who wasn’t wearing a tie or a jacket. He must have been the least formally dressed guy in the place. “Let’s just wait to see if that blond one is with a woman.” If he wasn’t joined by anyone, then it was Darcy’s lucky night. I might not be the world’s best waitress, but I could pick up a guy without any trouble at all.

  “Any hot barristers caught your attention?” Darcy asked as I was staring at our two potential dates.

  Knightley had definitely caught my attention. That brooding, English-hero thing he had going on worked for him. “I’m still scoping them out.” I grabbed the cocktail menu and wafted it toward my burning cheeks. Jesus, what was I so embarrassed about? Men never embarrassed me. “They all hide down this rabbit hole of a hallway. I don’t think I’ve even met them all.” I’d seen most of them at the meeting last night, though, but none of them had been as handsome as Knightley. Or had the same commanding presence. I shifted in my seat, trying to shake visions of a naked Knightley from my head.

  I took a sip of my cocktail. “They’re definitely not waiting for anyone,” I said, refocusing on the floppy-haired guy and his friend. “It’s just the two of them at that table and neither of them have looked over at the door once, although they have scanned the bar, which makes me think they’re up for company.” I turned to Darcy. “Are you ready?”

  She frowned. “For what?”

  I wasn’t interested in getting to know either of these guys, which made no sense because I’d not kissed anyone since arriving in London. Tonight would be all about Darcy. “Bring your drink and follow me. There’s no point in going boyfriend shopping and not trying anything on.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  I stood and grabbed my cocktail. “Let’s have some fun. It’s my first night out in London, despite the fact that I’ve been here weeks. I need to make up for lost time.”

  I strode over to the table where the two guys I’d been watching were sitting. “Hey, do you mind if my friend and I join you?” I acknowledged them both but my gaze lingered on the dark-haired guy. I didn’t want either of them to be under any misunderstanding as to who we’d allocated to whom.

  “We’d be delighted,” the dark-haired one said, standing and offering me a seat. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I shifted down the bench that he’d left warm. “Maybe in a few minutes. I still have my cocktail,” I said, raising my glass to him.

  Darcy hovered a few feet away from the table.

  “Darcy, let me introduce you to our new friends,” I said. “This is . . .”

  The blond one stood and held out his hand. “Edward,” he said, ignoring me. There had definitely been a twinkle in his eye when he caught sight of her. Perfect.

  “I’m Violet,” I said, as my allocated man sat down next to me.

  “And how lovely you are, just like the flower.”

  I managed not to laugh.

  “My name is Reginald.”

  I couldn’t hold back anymore and I chuckled. “Your name is not Reginald.”

  “Well, no, but if it had been, it’s not very nice to laugh when someone tells you their name.” He grinned at me. “But I’ll forgive you, given you’re American. My name is James.”

  “Nice to meet you, James.” I made up my mind about men I met very quickly. I liked men who knew how to fuck, otherwise I didn’t have a type. It shouldn’t have been a particularly high standard, but it wasn’t easy to find a guy who knew how to fuck me, and even when I did find one, he always wanted to cuddle afterward, or take me to dinner. I got bored very quickly—sometimes it took an evening, others a month or two, but it was never long before I went back to being single and unwilling to commit to anything for long. Knightley was probably the same way.

  It wasn’t that James didn’t have potential. He was cute, and funny and flirty. The jury was out on whether or not he’d know how to fuck, but there was something missing. Something that wasn’t pulling me toward him, making me want to imagine him naked.

  Unlike Knightley. Shit, why was my mind wandering to Knightley again? I squeezed my thighs together and turned to James.

  “You live over here?” he asked.

  “Just for a few months,” I replied, trying to pay attention to him and not betray that I was sitting here thinking about another man.

  “And then you’ll head back to the States?”

  “Sure. That’s where my family is.” Christ, was that all I had in the US? No job, no apartment, nothing. Just siblings who were all moving on to the next stage of their lives and three boxes of God knew what in my sister’s garage.

  “What about you? You live in London?”

  “Islington.”

  I nodded even though I had no clue where that was.

  “I’m a banker. We both are,” he said, lifting his chin toward his friend.

  “Is he single?” I asked.

  James chuckled. “You interested?”

  “Oh, no. I meant for Darcy. I’m looking out for her.” I hadn’t meant for it to sound like I wasn’t interested in the handsome guy I was talking to, who was so far perfectly charming, but he’d picked up on something. The fact was, I wasn’t that interested in him.

  Knightley had gotten under my skin, and although I wasn’t about to march into his office and request he take me on the desk, I also didn’t want to fuck one person while thinking about another. Somehow it didn’t seem right. I glanced across at Darcy and the floppy-haired blond who was making her laugh. Tonight was about her.

  I was happy to play wingman and be left to my fantasies of a naked Knightley.

  Chapter Ten

  Alexander

  After only four hours of sleep, I’d been at the gym doors when they’d opened at five thirty, but even a brutal workout hadn’t exhausted me. My mind was all over the place. I just couldn’t concentrate. I screwed up the paper I’d been making notes on and threw it in the bin in the corner of my office. I had too much energy. I’d worked all weekend in the hotel, gone on two long runs along the Thames, but still hadn’t slept well.

  After sitting next to Violet during last week’s meeting, I’d done my best to rid myself of all thoughts of her. I hated the way I’d changed my behavior because
of her—even if it was in the smallest way—by sitting in a different spot in the conference room. Even though I’d told myself that it was a better position from which to make a surreptitious exit, I knew the truth.

  I was full of shit.

  I’d wanted to be near her, to breathe in her scent and feel the heat of her body next to mine.

  It pissed me off.

  No woman made me lose focus on my work. Ever. My broken marriage was a testament to that.

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath at the knock at the door. I could tell by the confident rap it was Violet. She was probably the only one in these chambers who wasn’t scared to interrupt me when she needed to. “Come in,” I said, turning my attention to my computer screen. I didn’t want to have to look at her, didn’t want her to see how much she’d gotten under my skin, or how much I resented her for it.

  “Do you have any more dry cleaning?” she asked. “I’m happy to take your shirts to be laundered.”

  Fuck, she sounded so innocent, but I suspected she was anything but. “I don’t need you to babysit me,” I said. “I can arrange my own laundry.” Perhaps, if I was less than polite, she’d leave me alone.

  She didn’t respond, and I looked up to see if she’d left me in peace. “What are you doing?” I asked as I saw her squeezing between two towers of paper.

  “Knitting a sweater. You? Trying to get into the finals for asshole of the year?” she said as she disappeared behind the piles of paper.

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or spank her, but my twitching cock told me I wasn’t mad.

  I got up from my desk and moved toward her. The last thing I wanted was for her to knock one of the piles over—they’d all go down like dominoes. “What are you looking for?” I asked, taking in her tight arse as she bent over in front of me. If I took two steps forward, I’d be able to skim my hands over her waist. She’d probably gained confidence and was trying to take some more of the Ellington case papers she’d been slowly stealing each time I left the office.

  “I’m taking some of these,” she said, her arms full of witness statements by the looks of it. “You might be smart, but you haven’t noticed that I’ve been taking bits of this pile when you’re out of the office.” She stood up and turned to stare at me defiantly. I wasn’t about to spoil her fun and tell her that I knew exactly when she’d been in my office and what she was taking. I wouldn’t give away that her jasmine perfume clung to every part of this office, including me, or that I’d imagined smelling it all weekend.

  “So you’re stealing from me?” I asked, folding my arms.

  “I’m doing my job.” She shook her head and bent to pick up a single sheet of paper that had escaped from the pile she was holding.

  Fuck she was sexy. Every move, every curve—the confident way she met me head on—equal to equal.

  “I have no idea what has crawled up your ass,” she said, stepping toward me between two towers of paper. “But pull it out, get out of my way, and let me get on with this.”

  I stayed right in her way. I didn’t want her to leave. Not yet. “What have you got there?” I placed my hand over hers to adjust the papers she was holding so I could see. Her skin was soft and smooth, and she gasped but she didn’t pull away. Instead her eyes flickered to my face and I met her gaze. My resolve to keep my distance from Violet was wavering.

  She inhaled as we looked at each other, neither of us speaking, my heart thudding against my chest, my dick straining in my trousers.

  I wanted her.

  I was sure she wanted me too.

  Her tongue dipped out to wet her lips and my self-control evaporated.

  I reached out and cupped her neck, sweeping my thumb over her cheek. She closed her eyes and sank against my palm. My eyes darted down to her chest and back up to her beautiful face. Sliding my hand around, I finally sank my fingers into that glossy, silky hair. It was just as soft and inviting as I’d imagined when I’d seen her on the tube

  There was no going back now.

  I grabbed the papers from her and tossed them over my shoulder, vaguely aware of the oversized confetti floating to the ground behind me.

  Her eyes flung open wide. “What the—”

  Before she could ask me what else had crawled up my backside, I pulled her toward me, one hand around her waist, the other tangled in her hair, and pressed my lips against hers. For the first time in days, my mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone—Violet King and the way she felt under my fingers, the way she tasted. It was like I’d arrived back home after a long, arduous trip.

  Her knees buckled, and for a second I thought I had her immediate, unwavering submission, but then, as if she’d changed her mind, she pushed at my chest with her tiny hands.

  “What?” I asked, pulling away slightly. I knew this was what she wanted.

  She looked at me like she wanted to murder me. Her eyes piercing, her lips reddened and pursed—she was beautiful.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m kissing you, and in case you haven’t noticed, you’re kissing me back.” It was the best I’d felt since she’d been this close on our walk to chambers the first time I’d laid eyes on her.

  Her lips were slightly parted and her chest pressed against mine. She didn’t really seem like she was wanting me to stop. I dipped my head again and delved into her mouth with my tongue. She met my energy and need, but then stopped and pushed at my chest once more.

  “No. We can’t. I need this job.”

  “I need this.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt I needed a woman. I’d craved sex, release, but not hungered for a particular woman as I’d seemed to since Violet appeared at my side on the Green Park platform. I pressed my hands against her arse and cupped her buttocks. “And so do you.” This feeling couldn’t be one-sided, could it? “Besides, nothing we do here will affect your job. You know you want this as much as I do.”

  She groaned but not in the way I’d hoped. It wasn’t out of lust; it sounded like frustration. “Yes you’re attractive but you’re an asshole to me. You can’t want to kiss someone you think is stupid.”

  I reached for the hem of her skirt, dipping beneath the fabric, encouraged by her admission that she found me attractive. “I’m an arsehole to everyone.” She rolled her eyes and I dipped and kissed her briefly before pulling back. “And I don’t think you’re stupid. You went to MIT, for crying out loud.” The fact that she was clever was part of the attraction. Maybe that was the reason she wasn’t intimidated by me. Her confidence around me was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You looked me up.” She smoothed her hands over my chest, and my muscles beneath her fingers buzzed from her touch.

  “You’re in my office stealing papers.” I slid my hand further up her leg, my fingers finding the top of her stocking and her hot, soft skin. Fuck, she was delicious. I twisted my hips against her. “I took a look at your CV.”

  “You knew I was taking stuff?” She bit her lip as I traced my finger around the lace of her stocking and she sank against me a little.

  I walked her back toward the wall. I wished we had more space. More time. I could lose myself in her for hours if I had the chance, I was sure of it. “I’m not an idiot either. It may look like chaos in here, but I know exactly what everything is. I have an excellent memory.”

  She pressed her fingertips against my cheekbone and sighed. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I just thought I was covering my tracks.”

  I smoothed my palm up her inner thigh, and she tipped her head back and gasped. I took my time, taking in her heat and her sounds, greedy for everything about her. Her skin was smooth and tight like a drum. My hand went higher and higher wanting more and more and I tried to silence the sound of my heartbeat so I could hear when she said no. But I got only encouragement from her sounds. Had she fantasized about this like I had? Was she ready for me?

  I slid my hand further up, my finger reaching the edge of her un
derwear. I drew my fingernail along the lace and she shivered.

  “What’s your name?” she asked and a shot of desire spiked through me. I had my hand up her skirt and she didn’t even know what to call me. “Or do you just like to be called sir?”

  As much as I had a healthy ego, and I liked to dominate in the bedroom, I didn’t want her to call me anything but my name. I slipped my fingers beneath the lace. “Alex,” I replied, stroking up and down her folds, pressing against her, breathing her in.

  She gasped as if I were talking dirty. “Alexander.”

  I paused. No one other than my family had ever called me Alexander, but the way it rolled over her tongue in her lazy, sexy, do-anything-for-me drawl stopped me from correcting her. I found her clit and circled it with my finger. She arched her back.

  She pushed her hands through my hair as I pulled her skirt to her waist. “Alexander,” she whispered, making my cock rigid. I slid the heel of my hand down my erection. How the fuck was it possible to be this hard and not have passed out with lack of blood supply to the brain? “What if someone comes in?” she asked. But I knew she was beyond caring. Her eyes were sleepy with lust, and her hand fumbled at my fly, as she tried to get access to my dick.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “No one would fucking dare. Only you.” I reached between her legs and pulled at the lace—I needed to feel her pussy. The snap of the elastic as I tore her panties made her groan again, but this time, it was the timbre I’d been waiting to hear. “You’ve got to be quiet. I know it will be difficult because I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to want to scream the place down. But, you’ve got to hold it in.”

  She shook her head. “So confident, Mr. Knightley.”

  “I’m about to prove it to you.” She released my dick and I grabbed my wallet and found a condom. I couldn’t handle her fist—I was too close to the edge—so I rolled on the latex, grabbed her under her thighs, and pressed her against the wall.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  “You better be good.”