Defiant Prince: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Black Rose University Book 1)

by A G Henderson

He clamped a hand over it.

  I found out why a second later when he curled his fingers once more and bit down on my nipple. Hard.

  My muffled wail still sounded like I was trying to wake the dead. Without the noise being trapped by his palm, the entire party would’ve thought he was killing someone out here.

  Which wasn’t too far from the truth, since he was killing me with every ruthless twist and bite he peppered my body with.

  Ambrose was everything I’d secretly hoped he would be. Dominating and intense, eyes like twin black holes threatening to suck me in and never let go.

  For a second, I wanted that to be true.

  I wanted this to never end.

  Not until he’d said fuck it to what I told him before and crushed our mouths together.

  The thought was insane and exciting all at once. I didn’t kiss guys. The last time ended with more than just my heart broken and had put me off the idea.

  So why did staring at his lips push my throbbing body closer and closer to the big drop?

  Why did I shiver with need when he pressed his forehead against mine, leaving his lips just barely out of reach?

  “Let go,” he whispered, breath fanning my face. “Come apart on my fingers, and next time I stroke my dick to you, I’ll know exactly how you’re going to feel when you milk me for my cum.”

  Knowing he’d jerked off to me shouldn’t have been the thing to push me over the edge.

  It was filthy.

  It was naughty.

  It was...absolutely fucking perfect.

  I sank my nails into his chest and let his palm swallow my scream. Fireworks detonated along my lower back, traveled up my spine, and did an encore splashed on the canvas of my fluttering lashes, treating me to a multitude of colors as I shuddered and jerked around him.

  He gifted me with a series of groans and growls as his fingers slipped free. I could feel his hot length against my thigh. My eyes opened slowly. I became a lazy cat post-orgasm, ready to curl up in a ball, sleep, and forget about the world.

  But the demand I expected to find on his face wasn’t there. He just...watched me. Even when my nails drifted along his thigh, inching closer to the flagpole he’d managed to stuff in his underwear.

  He wasn’t calm. That bow-like tension held him tight, arms flexing on either side of my head. His jaw clenched.

  What was he waiting for?

  Feeling bold, I reached for him outright, heart pointing.

  Barely centimeters remained when a throat cleared, shocking us both.

  Ambrose sprang into action first, covering me with his body while I adjusted my top. I relaxed after a quick glance over my shoulder showed that our intruder remained a good distance from the pool. With the angle and the way Ambrose shielded me, he might not even know I was there at all.

  “What the fuck?” Ambrose hissed.

  Yeah, he hadn’t relaxed at all.

  “Oh God,” the guy said. “I swear I didn’t see anything, but I knew you said to come find you and someone mentioned you were out back and—“

  “Enough.” Ambrose again. One word ended the guy’s rambling.

  I smiled against solid abs and darted my tongue out just because I could. He tasted like chlorine and heat. Those dark eyes flashed down at me.

  “Is there a problem, Ro?” I whispered, licking him again.

  “If this is a bad time...” said the random guy.

  “Of course it’s a bad fucking time. But now you’re here and I have to deal with your shit.”

  Ambrose slung me up and into his arms before I knew what was happening. He climbed out of the pool like he wasn’t carrying the weight of another person and deposited me into a nearby lounge chair.

  He grabbed a towel and tossed it over my body, pausing to rearrange it.

  “Stay here,” he told me, stalking off.

  Still boneless from my orgasm, I was content to do what he said for a change. Besides, I had the best seat in the house.

  He padded around the pool, body glistening, underwear stuck to him, dick bobbing with every step.

  Talk about a fucking power move.

  There was no way the guy could miss it, and sure enough, I giggled when his face went red. Ambrose on the other hand just folded his arms like he was debating the best way to rid someone of their head.

  I yawned, settling in for the show. Realizing the shorter guy was the same one who’d approached the Tarots in their weird ceremony perked me up some, but sleep was calling.

  I wondered what he was doing here that was so important he would risk interrupting?

  They spoke in hushed tones. Ambrose glanced over his shoulder a few times. I didn’t know if it was because he thought I was secretly a spy that could read lips, or if he was just making sure I hadn’t moved.

  Either way, he didn’t need to worry.

  I fell asleep, at least for a few minutes.

  When I opened my eyes—having no idea when I’d closed them—the other guy was gone. Ambrose had an envelope in his hand. He flipped through a lot of green bills before stuffing the whole thing in his discarded jeans which then got thrown over one shoulder.

  Ambrose lifted me into his arms without asking and started walking.

  I was too tired to make a big deal about it, even though I got another small burst of energy when he scaled another set of stairs near the back of the house—avoiding the party. He whisked me into a dark room that smelled like him, clean and tempting with a hint of something more exotic and dangerous underneath.

  He placed me on his bed more gently than I’d expected. I held my breath, waiting for him to lower his body and finish what we’d started in the pool.

  I probably should’ve been more concerned about the exchange of money in the dark. That seemed...important.

  Except it was a tiny spark in comparison to the bonfire that singed my insides while he gazed down at me, silent, unmoving, watchful.

  I could barely make out the clench to his jaw before he turned away.

  My fingers caught the edge of his underwear. “Where are you going?”

  I sounded needy and I hated it, no matter how true.

  He wasn’t just going to leave things like this, was he? Whatever happened tonight, something between us had shifted.

  Boyfriends weren’t in the cards for me. That hadn’t changed, and assuming it had, Ambrose wouldn’t be on the list of candidates. We didn’t even like each other.

  But if we were going to go back to barely tolerating the others’ presence, I didn’t want to risk this attraction for him being stuck under my skin.

  “This isn’t happening,” he said, voice floating through the dark. “I’m a lot of things, Emily, but I’m not...” He paused and I thought I saw him shake his head.

  What had he stopped himself from saying?

  “You’re my best friend’s sister,” came from his mouth instead. “And you’re drunk.”

  I sat up in the bed, wishing I could see more than the shadows that lovingly framed his face. “Not so drunk I don’t know what I want.” Nothing. He didn’t respond. “Why does Erik matter? He hasn’t so much as looked at me. I think you’re just making excuses.” His posture stiffened. “Walk away if you want to, but don’t act like you’re doing it for my sake.”

  Ambrose stepped away from the bed. “My reasons are my own, cupcake girl. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

  As if I don’t know it.

  I didn’t need him to remind me of how little I mattered. How Dad and Erik had brushed aside my existence after the divorce like I was a tick that had been stuck to them. How—if something hadn’t happened with Mom—I might not have seen either of them ever again.

  A harsh laugh escaped me before I could stop it. I climbed under the covers, pretending I wasn’t hiding the sting in my eyes when he couldn’t see me in the first place.

  “Fuck you, Ambrose,” I croaked, hugging his pillow tight.

  I felt him lingering there, hating the knot of tension he re
fused to release me from with his silence.

  Finally, he spoke using that soft voice that made me tilt my head just to try and catch what he was saying.

  “Not tonight, cupcake girl.”

  Then he was gone.

  But the tension wasn’t.

  The feeling that something had changed between us in ways I couldn’t begin to understand?

  That wasn’t gone either.

  16

  Emily

  It probably said something about me that waking up in a guy’s bed having not slept with him was, so far, the strangest part of my morning.

  I sat up, stretching as the covers fell away. To my surprise, a glass of orange juice and two Aspirins sat on the gunmetal gray bedside table. Frowning, I grabbed the glass and left the pills behind since the headache I’d expected was nowhere to be found. My attempt to come to terms with the possibility of Ambrose being so thoughtful came to a stop when a sticky note fell from the bottom of the glass.

  Thank God our rooms are separate because you snore in your sleep. BTDubbs, calling it snoring is me being nice. You should find the hippo whose lungs you stole and give them back because damn, girl.

  A grin spread. Renata had to be the nicest mean girl I’d ever met.

  I stood from the bed, intent on being nosy, and something fell to the floor beside me. Crouching, I grabbed a pair of sweats and a hoodie that looked suspiciously like...mine? Because they were.

  Unless Ambrose had a hoodie with a giant strawberry cupcake on the front of it.

  Score another one for the queen bee. If she kept this up, she could call me a bitch or whatever else for as long as she wanted.

  I changed quickly, grateful I wouldn’t be walking across campus in a dress not meant for the light of day. To be honest, the whole reason I’d agreed to wear it was to see what kind of reaction Ambrose would have. Smiling, I brushed my hands along my hips, remembering the strength with which he’d gripped them while his fingers plunged inside me.

  The way he’d handled me had gone above and beyond my expectations. At least until the end of the night.

  My sober state didn’t shed any light on the reason for his restraint. I’d been hot, willing, and so, so ready.

  Guys didn’t pass up that kind of opportunity.

  Yet not only had Ambrose done exactly that, he remained nowhere to be seen. If not for the evidence of the night before—I smelled like him, my body was sore in a great way, and there were bruises on my chest from his teeth—I would’ve thought it was all a fever dream conjured by the lusty part of me that woke up that first day he strolled into the hospital.

  While I finger-combed my hair into some semblance of order, I went around the room searching for clues that might help explain tall, dark, and confusing as fuck.

  Sharp described his features to a tee, although I could easily wax poetic about the alluring, sensual, vicious cut to his face.

  One word to describe his room?

  Functional.

  Don’t get me wrong, the room was gorgeous as anything else on campus. Cool blues and dark grays married together in modern sophistication. A stunning view out the window towards the distant tree lines and mountain ridges. The carpet was so soft and plush I wanted to stand there all day, tell classes to go screw themselves, and continue curling my toes in it.

  But as nice as it all looked...it was almost too nice. His room looked like a showpiece, a prop to be used on a commercial so people could picture themselves in the space without it being touched by another personality.

  No posters. No album covers. No art, period. The crystalline chess set off to one side was the one thing that added a bit of flavor to the room.

  I could picture him there, staring down at the board, those dark eyes pondering each and every possibility before he eventually moved a piece.

  My fingers brushed across the cool stones, wondering if he ever indulged and played with another person, or if he was the type to compete against himself.

  A crack in the closet door caught my eye and I moved closer, peering through the slit into the walk-in. The urge to push inside and check things out made my fingers itch. Spotting what looked like a tower of VHS tapes and DVDs tucked into the corner amplified that feeling.

  But there was being nosy and then there was snooping. I hadn’t seen anything he hadn’t left out so far. Going hunting for something else would be an invasion of privacy. Still, the need to know why he was holding onto relics from the past burned in my gut, even as raised voices from downstairs drifted to me.

  Taking a deep breath to prepare for whatever I might find, I left the room and followed the sounds of conversation.

  “You’re cheating,” a dry voice was saying as I found the steps and started my descent.

  I recognized Renata’s throaty laugh right before she said, “It’s a board game. How could I possibly be cheating? Aren’t you the Magician? You should know these things.”

  Something about the way she said that tugged at my memory and I didn’t know why.

  “You rolled three sets of snake eyes in a row,” Baron grumped. “Either you switched these for loaded dice when I wasn’t looking or you’re the luckiest woman on the planet.”

  “Why can’t it be both? Things are always more fun when they come in twos.”

  His next complaint was muttered, and I kept my laughter to myself as I rounded the corner.

  Renata and Baron were sitting at the kitchen table, a game of Monopoly spread out in front of them.

  Baron noticed me first, sitting up and adjusting his glasses as he gave me a once over. I wouldn’t call his look friendly, but there was a bit of interest there now instead of dismissal. Not knowing what else to do, I offered him a stiff nod and was surprised to find it being returned.

  Catching the movement, Renata glanced over her shoulder and grinned at me.

  “There’s my favorite new girl,” she said.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m the only new girl.”

  Her smile widened. “Then you win by default. Congratulations! Your prize is...” She looked around before grabbing a stack of play money and holding it out to me.

  “You can’t just give away money to someone who isn’t even playing.” Baron glared. “You’ll mess up the economy.”

  “Board. Game.” Renata sounded out each word slowly. “I can’t mess up the economy because it doesn’t exist in the first place.”

  “There are rules—”

  “Which I don’t care about.”

  “You can’t just ignore them!”

  She leaned over the table, voice lowering. “And just who is going to stop me? Don’t forget, Churchill, I don’t answer to any of you.”

  Their easy manner had disappeared between one sentence and the next. I stood on the outskirts of what seemed like an old feud, unsure how to approach the dome of silence. As luck would have it, I didn’t have to.

  “Why is it so damn loud already?”

  I recognized Erik’s annoyed rumble immediately and froze on the spot. They lived together. Why didn’t I consider this might happen?

  Because you were too busy dangling yourself in front of the devil and waiting for him to take a bite.

  Erik emerged from the back half of the kitchen, running a hand through his mussed hair. His mouth opened in a wide yawn I remembered from when we were kids, and the sight was so familiar it was painful. My chest tightened before he noticed me. When he did, he came up short, taking in my appearance with a growing sneer.

  Why? I wanted to scream. I wanted to beat my hands against his chest until I got an answer. Why do you hate me so much?

  Trying to pretend the anger creasing his brows wasn’t flaying me alive, I stood there like an idiot, hunkering in on myself while I waited for the bomb to drop.

  “What the fuck is she doing here?”

  How pathetic was it that him acknowledging that I was there made a sob catch in my throat?

  Baron set the dice in his hand down. “Erik...” There was a warning
note in his voice.

  I wasn’t foolish enough to believe it was for my sake, but I appreciated it anyway.

  Erik stomped to the fridge and threw it open, retrieving a bottle of water. “Don’t Erik me. Women don’t sleep over, period. You see the piece I slayed wandering around here?” My nose wrinkled at his crass tone and he nearly tore the lid from the bottle. “Even little Miss High Priestess knew to take her ass back to her own dorm.”

  Renata stood, took one look at my face, and stepped in front of me, facing my ranting brother. “Do you ever get tired of making an ass out of yourself, or does it just come naturally to you?”

  He managed to angrily take a swig of water, readying his next barrage.

  I didn’t know why I was taking it. Why was I doing my best impersonation of a punching bag? Except the awareness didn’t tap into any reserves of strength. I didn’t step out from behind Renata and lay into him the way he deserved, the way I’d imagined doing so many times if I ever got the opportunity.

  I stood there, waiting on the bell to ring for the next round. Would the next uppercut wake me from my stupor or knock me out altogether?

  “I’ll ask again, since no one fucking answered the first time.” He raised his voice, neck flushing red. “What the fuck is she doing here!?”

  Baron stood suddenly.

  Renata took a step forward.

  The hair at my nape lifted a second before a soft, deadly voice said, “She’s my guest. If you have an issue with that, you take it up with me.”

  Ambrose stepped up behind me. I felt him there, close enough that I could lean back and fall against his chest.

  I didn’t do that of course. For the same reason I didn’t turn to look at him.

  Fear.

  I was the fiercest version of myself around Ambrose, ready to go toe to toe with a guy who, admittedly, scared me more than a little bit. Right now though, I felt weaker than I could ever remember. Letting him see me like that wasn’t an option because I couldn’t decide what would be worse.

  Pity in those dark eyes?

  A complete and utter lack of concern?

  We weren’t anything to each other. Neither of those possibilities should’ve crossed my mind. They did anyway. And I knew either one could break me and leave sharp edges I would continue to impale myself on for days and weeks to come.