Prince Not So Charming: A Royal Love Story

by Tawny Taylor

  He grimaced. “You would say that.”

  “I was only kidding.”

  “You’d better be. Or I’m going to have to kick your pretty little ass.” He cupped said ass and gave it a squeeze.

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  Moving lightning-fast, he flipped us over. Suddenly I was on the bottom, my body pinned under his. And my heart was slamming against my breastbone. Just looking into his eyes made my bones melt and my blood simmer. He was such a gorgeous man.

  An image of his face four years ago flashed through my memory.

  He’d been just as good-looking then, but in a different way. He’d still looked like a boy, his jaw not so stubbled and his cheekbones not so angular. Now he was all man. Stronger. Bigger. And more confident.

  And I adored him with all my heart.

  I moaned as he rocked his hips, rubbing his erection against me. A thrumming need was already pulsing between my legs. From experience, I knew it would only get worse.

  “I haven’t been to bed yet,” he murmured as he dipped his head to taste me.

  “I just woke up.”

  “That’s okay. I wasn’t thinking about sleep… yet.” He nibbled on my earlobe and I shivered. Goose bumps turned the skin on my shoulders and back into prickly sandpaper. Meanwhile my insides flared into an inferno. “And you got one thing right. There is a part of me that is rock solid.” Clay nipped my neck.

  Did I really need to sit around the whole day mourning the loss of my aunt’s house?

  “You feel so fucking good.” Clay’s hand slipped under my top and skimmed up my side.

  Not really.

  Was there anything I could or should be doing now?

  His tongue flicked over my collarbone. “And you taste good too.”

  Not that I could think of.

  Oh hell! It could all wait.

  I pulled on his shirt, dragging it up his scrumptious body.

  He made a little growly sound and did the same to me. And suddenly we were tugging, yanking, pulling, and even ripping each other’s clothes off. Naked, at last, Clay enveloped me in his arms, crushing me into the bed. His hips wedged between my legs. “This is exactly where you belong.”

  I gave him a challenging squint. “What do you mean by that?”

  “In my bed. With me. Under me.”

  I snorted. “Under you? Sexist much?”

  “Not at all. If you’d rather be on top, I’m good with that too,” he said as he slid his thick length into my channel.

  We moaned in unison.

  To hell with arguing. I didn’t care who was on top.

  I wrapped my legs around his waist to take him as deep as I could while he pumped in and out of me in an agonizingly slow tempo. I felt every inch of him as he retreated and then surged back inside me. The tip of his cock grazed my cervix with every deep thrust, the flared ridge gently caressing every sensitive inch of my channel as it moved within me.

  Our eyes met, and he grabbed my hands, fingers twining between mine, pinning them backs-down to the bed. “You are so fucking tight.”

  He was so fucking big. And so fucking strong. And so fucking perfect. And fucking me perfectly too.

  I licked my lips and tilted my hips up to meet every thrust.

  He angled his head down to kiss me. His mouth was soft and gentle one second then it was as if a dam had broken loose and all the gentleness was gone. His tongue pushed between my lips, hungrily invading my mouth, taking, possessing, claiming. His body did the same. Hands grasped, clawed, marked. His cock slammed in and out. He fucked me with abandon, as if he couldn’t get enough.

  Breaking the kiss, he murmured in my ear, “You are so tight, so wet for me, babe. Only me.”

  Only Clay. Yes. Only him. Always him.

  His words, coupled with the rough way he touched me and the steady thrusts of his cock, ignited a blazing firestorm in my body. I was so hot. So tight. All over. More. I was greedy for more. More kisses. More touches. More.

  I hooked my hand around the back of his head and pulled it down again. Our mouths mated, tongues lashing at each other like blades in a sword duel. Our bodies writhed, male, female, working as one, bringing each other to the edge of ecstasy. Heat rushed through my body, a wild torrent.

  Waves building. Crests rising.

  My breathing quickened.

  When I whimpered, he leaned back, his cock balls-deep inside me. My inner walls twitched.

  “Babe,” he whispered. “Am I hurting you? I tried to hold back. But damn, you’re so tight. So hot.” His hand cupped my breast, thumb flicking across my nipple.

  I arched my spine. It was like he’d found a live electrical wire. And it was sending currents of crackling static through my body, to my center. “Oh God!” I gasped. “No. Doesn’t hurt. Feels… so good.” I rocked my head, opening my eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them.

  There he was. Above me. Looking so strong and hungry. Thick arm muscles flexing. Abs rippling.

  I raked my fingers down his arms. “Clay. Please.”

  “Oh baby.” His hips jerked forward, driving his cock even deeper. Sitting upright on his knees, he stroked my thighs. He pushed them wide apart and stared at our juncture. “Look at us. Look!”

  I glanced down to where his thick length slid in and out of me. I’d never watched myself being fucked like this before. It was so incredibly sexy. My gaze meandered up his flexing abs to his taut chest, higher to his contracting jaw. My insides fluttered.

  He was going to come.

  And so was I.

  Burning. I was burning all over. My brain was melting. My bones turning to putty. He scooped his hands under my ass and lifted me, pounding deeper, harder, faster. I gripped the sheets in my sweaty, trembling hands and rode the waves of decadent pleasure, one after another. Higher. I was soaring higher.

  And then, as he bent over and bit my shoulder, I exploded into a million tiny pieces. A scream echoed through the air. My scream? I didn’t know. I was outside of my body, whirling through space on a river of absolute bliss.

  Bending over, he whispered, “Mine,” and sealed his claim with a kiss.

  Yes, I was his.

  I’d belonged to him since the first time we’d met. No. Since the first time I saw him.

  23

  I dreamed about Clay, but I woke up thinking about the ranch.

  My ranch. My burned-down ranch.

  I needed to find out who started that fire!

  Moving slowly, I rolled away from Clay’s relaxed body, listening to his slow and even breathing. He’d been up all night. At my ranch. He deserved to rest. Hell, after everything he’d done for me and Harper, he deserved a lot more than that. But I was in no position to pay him back. I had nothing to give him, nothing to offer.

  Except myself.

  Aware of the dampness between my legs and the slight burn from the friction of our lovemaking, I went to the bathroom first. Then I dug around, finding a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. They were Clay’s. They smelled like him. It felt like he was holding me, his scent cocooning me.

  Harper was in the living room. Alone. Lounging on the couch, watching something on TV. “Hey! There you are. I was beginning to think you were going to spend the whole day in bed.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Not that I’d blame you. I’d spend the whole day in bed if I had someone like Clay in there with me too.”

  “No, I can’t sleep. Not without knowing what happened to my ranch.”

  “I get that.” She jerked her head toward the kitchen. “I stuck your coffee in the fridge, thinking you might want it later. Along with the food your man brought.”

  “Thanks.” My stomach gurgled, and I clapped my hand over it. “I’d forgotten I haven’t eaten today.”

  “The burger was delish. Your salad looked good too.” Harper followed me, plopping onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

  I put the coffee into the microwave to warm it up then dug out the white foam container. “Where’s Mike?”
I flipped it open and grabbed a slice of cucumber, crunching into it. Fresh and buttery. Delicious.

  “Work. He’s done at four.” Harper snatched a baby carrot from my carton and nibbled. “So I have a few hours to kill. What do you want to do?”

  “I need to find out if my aunt had insurance on the ranch first.” I grabbed a fork from the drawer.

  “How’re you going to do that?”

  I shrugged and stabbed at the crisp lettuce in the carton. “Call her attorney? I’m hoping he’ll have a record of any policies she might have had.” I filled my mouth with the crunchy salad. So yummy.

  “Okay. Then what?”

  I chewed and swallowed before answering. “Then I need to go to the ranch.”

  “You can’t. The detective told Mike and me that nobody will be allowed near the property for at least a week while they do their investigation.”

  “A week?” I poked at the salad again. “Crap. What am I supposed to do until then? And what about the animals?”

  “Mike told me that Clay took care of the animals, moved them to the neighbor’s ranch for the time being. So no worries there. Maybe you should take this time to rest. You’ve been working your ass off since I got here. You could probably use a little downtime.”

  “I can’t relax. Not until I know who torched my ranch and why.”

  “Well, you’re not exactly a detective. Maybe you should give the pros a chance?”

  “I know. But I feel so useless just sitting around.” I flipped the lid over the salad. My appetite was not what it usually was. I stuffed the salad in the refrigerator and slumped onto the stool next to Harper, the coffee in my hand. “Tell me what you told the police. Tell me everything.”

  “I already did.” She snatched my cup and stole a sip. “We went for a walk. And when we came back, we heard a noise and then a huge explosion. That’s it.” She plunked the cup down.

  “But you said you saw someone running from the house?”

  Harper shook her head. “No, I didn’t. Mike said he did. I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Only Mike?” I repeated, the gears in my head whirring.

  Mike claimed he saw someone.

  Mike was a felon.

  He could be lying. To throw the suspicion off himself.

  He’d been on the scene of the crime both before and after the fire was set. He had the opportunity.

  But why would he set my house on fire?

  What could be his motivation…?

  Money? Didn’t all crimes have to do with money?

  I dropped my chin into my cupped palms.

  Charlie’s Angel I was not.

  But dammit, I wanted to know why my ranch was a pile of cinders! And I didn’t want to wait for the police to figure it out… if they did. Dawson didn’t have its own police department. It had a tiny sheriff’s office in town. With a couple of deputies working out of it.

  Chances were my fire would go unsolved. And I would forever wonder who had started it and why.

  I wouldn’t get in the way of a police investigation while there was one. But I would do what I could to help out.

  “What?” Harper said, slanting me a probing look. “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking…” I swallowed.

  Did I want to tell her what I was thinking? She would be hurt, angry, at even the suggestion that I suspected her boyfriend of playing some part in the fire. But how could I not suspect him? He was there. He could have set the fire then coaxed Harper out of the house to keep her safe. Or he could have acted as a lookout, getting Harper out of the way so the arsonist could do his thing.

  “Let me guess. You think Mike did it?” she said.

  “No. I’m not saying that. I’m saying… Mike--”

  She slammed her hands on the counter. “You’re saying it must be him because he’s an ex-con.”

  That was it. I’d done it. I’d crossed the line and spoken the truth. And Harper was hurt and angry, just as I’d expected. But I wouldn’t apologize. There was no reason to. I wasn’t lying. I was telling the truth. “He is an ex-con and--”

  “He was innocent.”

  Of course that was what he’d told her. He was an innocent man, unfairly prosecuted for a crime he didn’t commit. How original. “They’re all innocent, Harper. Every single man in prison is innocent. At least according to them.”

  “No! It isn’t like that,” she insisted. “He isn’t just telling me what he thinks I want to hear. He really was innocent. I know it.”

  She sounded certain. Very certain. So certain, in fact, that I questioned my suspicion. “How could you know?”

  “I… I just do,” she told her hands, still resting on the counter. She couldn’t look me in the eye now. Why was that?

  Because she had no reassurances, no proof, nothing to back up her belief.

  “Nobody corroborates his story. You’re just taking him at his word?” I asked.

  She lifted her gaze. Jaw locked, she jerked a nod. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Don’t you see how dangerous that is, Harper?”

  Harper slid from the stool, arms smacked over her chest, glare icy. “Don’t you see how fucking impossible it is to be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust you?”

  “Sure, but—“

  “You don’t trust anyone.” She stabbed at me with an index finger. “You don’t trust Mike. Or me, your best friend. Or even Clay.”

  It was my turn to stand now. Stand and face her accusation head on. She was wrong! Utterly wrong. “Yes I do. I trust you. And Clay.”

  “Bullshit! If you trusted me, you wouldn’t doubt my judgment about Mike.” She blinked watery eyes, bloodshot eyes.

  She was taking my accusation a lot harder than I expected. Now I regretted being honest with her.

  This was bullshit. I’d never had to keep things from Harper before. Sure, she was prone to drama. She overreacted sometimes. But I hadn’t ever felt I couldn’t be totally honest with her before today. I wanted to smooth things over, to see those red eyes clear. Yet I wanted her to understand why I’d said what I did. That was more important now, more vital than soothing her bruised feelings. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. But you’ve made mistakes in the past, trusting guys you shouldn’t. Maybe I want to spare you another heartbreak.”

  “And maybe I knew I was taking a crazy risk then, but I was willing to do it anyway because I felt—still feel—it was worth it.”

  “What made any of those assholes worth it?” Shaking my head, I lifted my hands. I hadn’t seen the conversation going this way, veering down a road we didn’t need to take today. “Never mind. That was in the past. I’m sorry I brought it up. I was just trying to prove my point--”

  “That I’m an idiot who falls for jerks? That I don’t know a loser when I see one? That I would date a guy who was capable of burning down your fucking house and not realize it?”

  The way she said it, I was the one who sounded like a jerk. But it was true. She’d been burned in the past because she’d taken the word of a total jerk. The fact was I knew very little about Mike. His past. His family. Was he the innocent man he’d convinced Harper he was?

  Or was he a conniving liar who might have set my home on fire?

  He’d had the opportunity. He’d been there with Harper.

  But what I didn’t understand was why. Why would he want to do such a thing and risk getting thrown back into prison, after he’d worked so hard to get out? Had he been hired by someone? If so, who?

  I had to give it to him--there were some pieces that didn’t exactly fit. But overall, he still looked like a possible suspect to me. And as long as he was, I didn’t want him anywhere near me. That was going to be tough, though, with Harper living at Clay’s ranch.

  “I sound like a bitch,” I admitted. “I’m sorry.”

  My apology was accepted with a strained smile and a nod. Harper was still hurt. And that didn’t sit well with me. Granted, once again my inability to trust the people c
losest to me was causing problems.

  Maybe it wasn’t possible for me to set aside my fears and suspicions and blindly trust people? Maybe I’d never be that person, the one who didn’t force her friends to prove their trustworthiness over and over and over again.

  Ugh. Just thinking that, putting myself in their shoes, made me angry with myself.

  But.

  But… I might be right this time. It could have been Mike.

  Or a lot of other people, I reminded myself.

  I looked at Harper. Her mouth was pulled into a thin line, her eyes wary, and her jaw tense. I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sorry, Harper. I know I’m a pain in the ass. I’m trying to change that.”

  Harper’s drama queen sigh could probably be heard in China. “Yeah, you are. But I love you anyway.”

  “And I love you.” I released her. “You’re sure Mike had nothing to do with the fire, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely positive.”

  “Then I’ll take your word for it. I trust you.”

  24

  After our argument Harper mumbled something about getting some fresh air and left Clay’s house. I might have stopped her, but instead I decided she needed some space to cool off. I’d apologized. We’d hugged and made up. I was forgiven. But it would take a while for Harper to forget. I totally understood.

  Meanwhile, I tiptoed back to Clay’s room to get my phone.

  Clay was out cold. That was good. After staying up all night he deserved some sleep. He had to be totally exhausted. Moving as swiftly but silently as I could, I grabbed my phone and headed back to the door, taking only a couple seconds to stare at the handsome man sprawled in the bed. He was a sight; that was for sure. Handsome. Sexy. His broad chest rose and fell with each breath and memories of our lovemaking flashed through my mind, of his muscles flexing and rippling.

  I grabbed my purse and gently closed the door on my way out. I would make the phone call in the living room, where I wouldn’t disturb him.

  Minutes later, I had an appointment to meet with Hardin, the lawyer, in his office. Now there was only the question of how I would get there.