It’s so long since I’ve considered myself just a person. Always, I have to be aware of my other identity, my identity as Aeryn Redfall, my identity as a celebrity. Before, in my life back home, going out for a coffee or to pick up a bottle of my favorite nail polish was an impulse. Now it’s a carefully choreographed routine.
And maybe this is what I get for sitting down with a stranger. Maybe I’m asking to complicate my life even further than it already is. But how could I say no? How could I turn down those hands, those eyes, those muscular arms? Even if this is just a drink. Even if I never do get to feel them around me—
Oh my God. Am I fantasizing about a prince?
I need to lock this down immediately. Alex is kind, yes, and I’m enjoying spending the evening with him, but I can’t allow myself to think that this is going anywhere. He’s a prince. I’m sure he’s not allowed to get involved with girls like me even if he wanted to—which, of course, he wouldn’t. There must be dozens of European royals interested in him, given the fact that he’s heir to a throne and absolutely gorgeous to boot.
He’s watching me. “You’re really uncomfortable being around royalty, aren’t you?” he asks. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be.”
“Why? Because I’m famous?” I say the word almost ironically. I have never felt my own fame less.
“Well, partly that,” he says. “Being a Hollywood star is the American version of royalty, isn’t it? That’s what I’ve always read. And—well, let’s just say you aren’t the first actor I’ve met, and many of them do seem to have a superior attitude. But it isn’t just that. You play a princess on TV.”
“A fictional princess,” I remind him. “You might as well say I know how to live without indoor plumbing because there isn’t any on the show.”
He laughs at my joke.
“I watch your show,” he counters. “I see the way you go through the routines of royal protocol. People who visit Redfall Palace treat you with the respect due their rulers. And you have to hold yourself apart from the rest of your community, the people who live in your town, both for your safety and for theirs. You understand more of the royal lifestyle than you know, Erica.”
I like the sound of my name on his lips.
“It isn’t like you think,” I say. “Those scenes are shot all out of order, for one thing, and sometimes they’re even split in half, so the person you would be talking to isn’t in the shot. Remember what I told you about Aeryn and Boniface, and how everyone thinks they’re seeing some secret chemistry between me and Chris, and in reality there’s nothing? What you see on TV has nothing to do with real life. When the cameras stop rolling, we all turn back into our true selves.”
“You don’t feel some reality in your role as Princess Aeryn?”
“No,” I say emphatically. “I’m not a princess. I’m just this girl from Ohio, and it’s still incredibly weird to me that I’m on TV at all. When people tell me I’m famous, I feel like they must have made a mistake, like they must be confusing me for someone else.”
“You’re very humble,” he says. “You’re a beautiful and talented actress, and people all over the world know your name.”
He smiles suddenly, and it lights up his face like a floodlight before he continues.
“I have to say, there’s something stunning about the fact that you’re the one who’s flustered to meet me.”
Chapter 5
“Listen,” Alex says, playing with a packaged pair of crackers. “Try to put it out of your mind. It was easier, wasn’t it, when we first met?”
“It was. I didn’t know who you were then,” I point out.
“I liked that you didn’t know,” he says. “That’s why I come here. To America. To California. I’m not a famous face the way you are, of course”—he inclines his head respectfully—“but Avaran is a small nation, and among my people, I am certainly one of the most famous faces. Back home, everyone knows me. Everyone gives me special treatment because they think that’s what’s required of them. They think that’s what they’re supposed to do. Maybe they think that’s what I want. I don’t know.”
He gets a far-off look in his eye for a moment. Then he turns his focus back to me. He looks almost sad for a moment. His deep brown eyes pull me into his warmth.
“But as often as I can,” he continues, swirling his now empty glass so they ice clinks around in it, “I like to get away. I like to come here, where most people haven’t even heard of Avaran, where the concerns of my country are half a world away. People here just look at me and see an average person. Nobody special.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” I blurt out before I can think through what I’m about to say to him.
He raises his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
But I can’t say it. I’m blushing furiously.
He watches me, curiosity etched all over his face. “Tell me. What did you mean by that? Why don’t you think I can blend in?”
“Because…”
Oh God, am I really about to say this to a prince? Out loud?
“Because you’re gorgeous,” I blurt out. “You must get attention everywhere you go. I know I had my eyes on you well before I understood who you really were.”
He smiles faintly. “This is a city of beautiful people.”
“Alessandro—”
He waves a hand. “Call me Alex. Please. I don’t come here to be treated with formality. I come here to escape from that.”
“You don’t like being a prince?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, exactly,” he says. “I do like it. I like the responsibility, most of the time, and I like that I have the ability to do good work for my people, to enact policies that will help shape the fate of our nation and the way Avaranians live. I guess I think of it as a job, a lot of the time, and it’s a good job to have. It’s important. I feel…useful.”
“That does sound nice,” I say. “I suppose I can relate a little bit. I mean, not that my work changes people’s lives in the same way. I don’t make national policy, obviously. But…well, I feel a little self-important talking about this, but some fans of the show have taken the time to tell me some wonderful things. I’ve heard stories from people about how Royal Blue gives them hope, how the show gives them something to look forward to every week, and Aeryn is someone they look up to and admire.”
“That must be a nice feeling,” Alex says.
I feel warm inside, and I don’t think it’s the liquor.
“It is nice,” I say. “It makes me feel like what I’m doing is more than just having fun. Because it is fun, you know. Acting. The costumes, and the stepping into someone else’s life and personality. Becoming Princess Aeryn Redfall. I like the idea that all this fun I’m having is actually doing people some good.”
Alex’s eyes are soft. “I feel exactly the same way. All the privileges I enjoy as a member of the royal family…don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy them. But I wouldn’t be able to accept them if I didn’t feel I was giving just as much back to my people. I would feel like an unjust ruler.”
“It’s so strange,” I say.
“What is?”
“Everything tonight. The idea that I could have something in common with a prince. And not only that, but the fact that I met a prince here at all. It’s a bit surreal.”
“I’m sure we have more in common than even that,” Alex says. “I meant what I said, you know, about celebrities being the royalty of America. You have your film stars and your TV stars, and everyone knows their faces, their names, the intimate details of their personal lives.”
I think of the story Jay sold about me. It had honestly left my mind until just now, and I feel a sudden wave of dread at the thought of it.
“Have you read articles about me?”
“Yes, I have,” Alex says quietly.
My heart sinks.
“I don’t want to lie to you,” he says. “I don’t want to put you at a disadvantage in that way. You deserve the truth, Erica
. But I want to be clear. Whatever I’ve read about you in any articles, I understand that it’s as likely to be false as true. I don’t enter this—whatever this is—assuming that I know anything about you. Reporters can be wrong, and they can exaggerate things to get a better story, and I know that as well as anyone. It’s happened to me. Back in Avaran, everyone who meets me thinks they already know who I am.”
I don’t know what to say. I feel on the verge of tears, suddenly. What Alex is saying is exactly right—exactly my experience and the way I feel. He understands me like nobody has.
These are problems I can’t complain to my old friends in Ohio about because they don’t know what it’s like to find yourself suddenly famous. I can’t talk to Lizzie about it either, because she feels so comfortable and at home in this world. But Alex is like me. Suddenly the things that divide us—our different nationalities, the fact that he’s a prince and my royal status is completely fake—seem not to matter at all.
And before I can think about what I’m doing, I lean across the table and kiss him.
Our lips meet for only a few precious moments before Alex breaks the kiss, and there’s a horrible moment in which I think I’ve crossed a line.
My mind goes a mile a minute. Have I violated some unknown rule? We kissed before…I thought that was mutual, but what if I was wrong? What if that was just me kissing him, and he didn’t want to make things awkward by pulling away? What if—
Then all my what-iffing is driven away as quickly as it began. Alex rises from his seat, takes a seat on the side of the booth next to me, and returns his lips to mine.
And I know. I know I wasn’t wrong about that last kiss. I can feel the intensity, the passion, pouring from him, crashing into my own passion like two waves colliding and sending up a spray.
My thighs clench, and I’m suddenly aware of my own mounting desire. I want to press my body into his. I want to climb on top of him, right here in this bar. I feel lit from within, like I’ve swallowed a star and it’s settled somewhere deep within my core. Surely he can see the need shining out of me.
Do I dare make the move my body is yearning for?
It’s been so long since I let myself become entranced by a guy like this. It’s not a sensible way to behave, not when so many people are just interested in dating me because of what I represent, as opposed to the person I am. But I’m confident that isn’t the case with Alex. He doesn’t want me because I’m famous or because he has some kind of fantasy about Aeryn he wants to live out.
Ordinarily, I’d like to have a few dates with a guy before taking him home—Jay was a prime example of the thinking behind that approach. But this is different. This isn’t a potential relationship. It’s just an instance of physical chemistry like I’ve never encountered before.
I take a break from kissing and lean my forehead against Alex’s, my chest heaving. Everyone in this bar must have noticed us by now. I can’t bring myself to care.
He’s a prince. That’s the thing I can’t allow myself to lose sight of. He’s royalty. He’s not just some random dude I met at a bar. He’s been kind to me so far, and easy to get along with, but if I ask him back to my house, he’s just going to laugh at me, isn’t he?
I feel another rush of heat. God, I’ve never wanted someone like this. It feels necessary. It’ll be a waste if I don’t see this through. I’ll never experience chemistry like this with anyone again in my life. I need this.
“We should go,” I say. My voice sounds like a gasp. I can’t help it. “We can go to my place.”
And Alex is nodding, fast and eager. “Yes. Please.”
The world seems to shimmer around me, and I lose track of how things are progressing, how we’re moving from place to place. Because we can’t be moving to these places. It’s surreal. It’s like something out of a dream. And I can’t focus my attention on my surroundings at all, and I can’t keep events in their proper sequence, and I almost don’t know where I am. All I know for sure is who I’m with and how he’s making me feel. Does the rest of it even matter?
We’re outside the hotel, in front of the valet stand, and we’re not touching each other because if I touch him at all, I’m going to start tearing his clothes off.
I don’t care that we’re at a massive luxury hotel and that people are coming and going and perfectly able to see us. I don’t care that all my coworkers are right inside and could walk out here at any minute. How am I supposed to think about any of that at a time like this? I can barely keep my legs under me.
We get a cab—waiting for my driver will take too long.
Not to mention that the anonymity of the cab is soothing. Here, we’re just two people melting into the darkness of the interior, trying our best to keep from touching one another.
The cab ride takes forever. I sit as far away from Alex as I can, and a part of me is yearning for common sense to restore itself.
I know what’s going on here. I’ve gotten carried away by my hormones.
I haven’t had sex in a while—it’s been months—and now here I am with this attractive guy, this guy who seems to understand things about my life that no one else ever has, and my mind is playing tricks on me. Of course I’m attracted to him, with those hands and that chest and those deep, soulful eyes. But that’s no excuse for the way I’m losing my head. I press my forehead to the window of the cab, trying to cool myself down.
But all my attempts fail, and by the time we reach my house, I’m more turned on than ever.
I’m glad Alex takes responsibility for paying the cab driver, because I’m not sure I could handle counting money in my current state. I fumble my keys out of my purse, feeling helpless and caught in a tide I can’t resist. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get the door open.
Then Alex is there, pressing my back into the solid wood of my own front door, his leg sliding between mine, his mouth covering mine, and it occurs to me that I’m not driving this train at all.
“We need to get inside,” I gasp. I’m not telling him so much as I’m telling myself. If we don’t keep moving, if we stop and let ourselves indulge in this, I’m not going to be able to stop and we’re going to end up naked right here on my front porch. “I have neighbors.”
I feel Alex’s hand cup against my stomach. “Keys.”
I drop them into his hand. Without releasing me, he reaches around and fits the key into the doorknob. I feel the door give way behind me and I’m moving backward, stumbling as I go, into the familiar bright light of my foyer.
“Bedroom?” Alex asks.
“There.” I point to one of the doors behind me. I can’t even form full sentences.
He steers us toward it, our hands now finding their way under each other’s clothes.
I want his shirt off him so badly that I feel a sudden urge to tear it, an urge that surprises me—my passion has never manifested itself so aggressively. I grit my teeth against my urges and hook my fingers in the meat of his back, tugging there instead, bringing him closer to me.
Alex, meanwhile, has found the zipper of my dress and pulled it down. The garment spills to the floor like liquid, pooling around my feet, and it is just such a relief to finally be unclothed that I kick off my own panties to finish the job. I slide my hands down his torso and tug at his pants, but he’s already helping me, fumbling with the button, sliding them down.
He wants me just as much as I want him. I can see it whenever our eyes meet. I can hear it in his ragged breathing. I can feel it in the grip of his hands on my arms, my hips, my ass. It feels too magical, too big and too beautiful to be believed. Do things like this really happen between strangers? They can’t, can they?
They must.
They are.
He lifts me in his arms, gently kicks aside the door that leads to the bedroom, and tosses me almost carelessly onto the bed. I rise up on my elbows just as he covers me with his body.
Suddenly his mouth is everywhere and I can’t stay upright. The pleasure surging through m
e is too much. I fall back, desperate for more, arching into him with every kiss or lick.
“God,” he breathes. “Erica.”
I link my leg around his to pull him even closer to me.
“Where did you come from?” I whisper against his cheek. “Are you really here?”
He doesn’t answer, and I understand. There’s no real answer to what I’m asking. I want to understand how this isn’t a fantasy. I want to know what happens at midnight when the magic spell breaks and the prince turns back into a frog.
But I don’t want to know any of that right now. Right now I want his skin on mine, his mouth on mine, my legs hitched up over his hips and my ankles locked behind his back, and he’s lifting away for a moment, a long, terrible moment when I’m sure he’s decided to stop—
And then he’s inside me.
His hands cradle my face for a moment. My mouth is open, some combination of amazement and trying to catch my breath.
Always before I’ve worried about how I look during sex. I’ve always tried to make pretty faces, even in the throes of passion. I suppose it’s the actress in me, trying to imitate the sex scenes I’ve seen on TV. But there’s nothing performative about this. I don’t have the presence of mind to worry about how I look. All I can think about is Alex, big and strong and absolutely dominating me, hands roving over my body, face now nestled in the crook of my neck.
Too slow. He’s moving too slowly. I plant my heels against his butt and pull, trying to increase the pace.
He pulls back and presses his forehead to mine.
“Easy, Erica,” he whispers. “We have all night.”
No, I want to protest. I don’t have all night.
I don’t know how to explain how badly I need more more, more, more of him, right now, how badly the idea of waiting hurts. I can’t do it. I arch, lifting my hips, grinding into him, needing—
He groans, hips snapping forward, and I know I’ve broken him. I’ve overcome his control. I feel a surge of pride and satisfaction. It was easier than I thought.
Now we’re both moving desperately, hands all over each other’s bodies as though fumbling for anything to hold onto, and I know this isn’t going to last much longer.
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