Modern Fairy Tale: Twelve Books of Breathtaking Romance

by Kristen Proby

  Of course she was, Sebastian thought, but he wasn’t too keen on his friend noticing. “Then who?”

  His friend slashed a hand through the air. “Her.”

  “Her who?” Sebastian signaled for the server to bring the check.

  Liam set down his drink. “Kate, your ex-girlfriend. Did you honestly think it was a good idea to have the woman who wanted to marry you in the same room, dining at the same table, as the woman who is supposedly marrying you?”

  “Hang on a minute, “Sebastian said, leaning forward. “I thought you invited Kate?”

  “What gave you that impression?”

  “You did.”

  “I did?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “How did I give you that impression?”

  Good God, they were quickly becoming the X Factor’s Ant and Dec. Sebastian took a deep breath and tried again. “The texts from Verity about Kate accompanying you around town.”

  Shaking his head, Liam gave him a wry smile. “According to Kate, your fiancée invited her to dinner, with your expressed approval. They went shopping together this afternoon.”

  “Oh, fuck me.” Practically leaping to his feet, Sebastian strode off in the direction Daisy had gone.

  She met him halfway, her face pale. “I want to go home.”

  “Of course,” he murmured, taking her by the arm. “Did someone—” Jesus, he was a coward and an idiot for not warning her, for not blurting out the truth before now—“say something to hurt your feelings?”

  A slight hesitation and his heart sank. “No. I’m just tired, is all. Some of us aren’t used to jetting around the world.”

  Relieved, he grinned. There was his Daisy. “Let me pay the check and we’ll be on our way.”

  * * *

  The car ride home was as quiet as earlier in the evening, only this time tension invaded the space, thick and suffocating like a wet blanket.

  It seemed as though she tolerated his presence, because as soon as they arrived and the doorman let them in, she’d nearly run to her bedroom. He had no idea what he’d done wrong and no idea how to repair things.

  Maybe he should wait until tomorrow to tell her about Jules.

  After showering, he brushed his teeth and pulled on a pair of pajama pants. For a full ten minutes, he paced his room. There was no way he would wait until tomorrow to talk to her. Best to sort things out now.

  He strode to the door and headed down the hall. Her room was only a few feet away. Light shone from her doorway. He knocked once and stepped inside.

  “Daisy, I—”

  She let out a squeal, clutching the dress she had worn to her chest, but that didn’t obstruct his view of her bare bum or thighs or the dangerous curves of her waist. The mirror behind her had seen to that.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  He stepped in the room and shut the door behind him, never taking his eyes off her reflection. Then he noticed her hair and forgot why he’d come to talk to her. A riot of curls in every shade imaginable fell to halfway down her back.

  “Your hair,” he said, closing the distance between them and cupping her bare shoulders. Sliding his hands down her shoulders and around her back, he slipped his fingers in long strands. “You didn’t cut it.”

  “Why would I?”

  “Because of what I said about your wardrobe yesterday.”

  Her chin tipped up. “My hair isn’t a part of my wardrobe.” She looked away, her shoulders falling, and he suddenly realized how fatigued she must actually be.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he said softly, letting hands fall away.

  He stepped back, taking in her barely concealed body and the engagement ring on her finger. She was his. The very primal part of him wanted to dominate her, wanted to take her against the mirror, until she screamed his name. But the very civilized part of him won out and he pivoted, moving to the door.

  “Why didn’t you ask Kate to marry you, instead of this fake fiancée stuff with me? It’s obvious the two of you belong together.”

  That stopped him cold. He turned to face her again. The dress still clutched tight to her front. “If we belonged together, I would be with Kate, already married and not enduring this fake fiancée stuff, as you so eloquently put it, with you,” he snapped, then immediately regretted. He held up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Hazel eyes rimmed with lavender regarded him. “Yes, you did.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  Hurt flared in her eyes. “I am?”

  Taking a step toward her, he nodded. “If Kate and I belonged together, I would be with her and married. But we’re not. Because we don’t belong together.”

  Daisy stepped back, inching closer the mirror. “She still loves you.”

  Even as it came out of his mouth, he knew how bad it sounded, how vulnerable it made him, but it had to be said, “But I don’t love Kate. I don’t want to be with her and she knows this. I’d rather be with you, my fiancée, however fake. I’d rather touch you, kiss you, and be inside of you. I’d rather listen to you hum and talk in your sleep.” For the rest of his life.

  Her lips parted, gaze raking over his chest. Yeah, she liked what she saw. Once more, he flicked his eyes over the mirror, taking in her nude reflection. And so did she. Her eyes darkened, and his body responded, his dick growing hard. She was remembering what had happened between them, as did he.

  He remembered every minute detail, down to the way her lashes fluttered when she orgasmed.

  “Then why did you flirt with her and not me?” she asked, her voice accusing.

  Flirting? Now this was interesting. “I wasn’t flirting.”

  She nodded emphatically, sending those colorful curls he loved to touch flying. “Yes, you were. You laughed and smiled with her. And smiled … and was nice.”

  “I laughed and smiled with my mates as well.”

  “It’s not the same and you know it.”

  Actually he hadn’t a clue, until now. “Were you jealous, darling?” He smiled, and her eyes went wide.

  “No,” she said, but he didn’t believe her.

  “You were.” He closed the distance between them again, stopping a few inches shy of touching her. Heat radiated from her body, the dress she still clutched the only physical barrier between them. “Shall I smile and laugh with you, even when you’re not speaking to me?”

  “I was nervous.”

  “I know. You looked beautiful tonight.”

  She made a face. “I was dressed like the Queen tonight.”

  “I like vintage,” he insisted, then gave her a wicked smile and raked his eyes over her. “Au naturel is more to my taste.”

  She let go of the dress. It fell to the floor, landing on his bare feet. He made himself keep his eyes on her face.

  “What about my shoes?” she asked.

  “Lovely.”

  “You didn’t look.”

  “Saw them earlier.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips across hers. She shivered, her hard nipples and soft breasts brushing against his chest as he embraced her.

  “I hate this,” she whispered and he froze. She slid her arms around his back, stroking the lines of his tattoos. “Not this, not you … it’s … I can’t sleep with you and not have it affect me.”

  At her confession, he kissed her cheek. “I’m not that bloke, you know. The one they sometimes still show on the telly and the Internet—a spoiled aristocrat sleeping around, partying like there’s no tomorrow, punching out his father, and doing his level best to take down a corporate empire. I won’t leave you for no reason.” Like Jules had.

  As if she were reading his thoughts, she asked, “How did you know about Jules’s last name? You never answered me in the car.”

  He opened his mouth to tell the truth, but the monster that lived inside spoke for him, “I did a background check on you, your family, your friends—virtual and real life—before asking you to pose as my fiancée.”
<
br />   Petal-pink lips made an O, and then a glimmer of anger shone in her eyes. Suddenly, it faded. “I guess that’s reasonable, but I wished you would have told me sooner.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So you know every humiliating thing about me.” She sniffed, her hands falling to hang listlessly her sides. “I must look like a total—”

  “You looked strong to me. Determined. Unwilling to let anyone or anything keep you down.” He cupped her shoulders, letting his hands slide her arms and encircle her wrists. “Tell me what to do to make this right. To make you comfortable and have this affect you in a way that makes you happy.”

  She looked up at him, with so much emotion in her gaze that he wondered if he’d done irreparable damage. Damn his selfish ass, tomorrow he would fly her back to Holland Springs, give her all of the money they’d agreed to, and take the consequences like a real man.

  “Take me sightseeing.”

  He blinked. That was the last thing he expected her to say. “Sightseeing?”

  “Oh yeah, all the places I missed, like the Harry Potter train ride … I want to do it all. With you,” she said, a mischievous grin curving her lips. “Then take me to a pub, so I can eat fish and chips and drink a pint of ale. Oh, and buy me a T-shirt, with the Union Jack on it.”

  A T-shirt? Oh, his giddy aunt. He swallowed. “Is that all?”

  “Not by a long shot,” she whispered against his lips as he released her wrists. “I want to go to the house where they film Downton Abbey.”

  “Clearly, you’re fatigued and in desperate need of copious amounts of sleep,” he said, before she could add to her list. Though her list charmed him, as did she.

  She rubbed against him, her very hot body doing things to his that had him groaning and wrapping his arms around her. “You know when you’re so tired that you can’t go to sleep without some help?”

  Right now he knew nothing, but the way she felt in his arms and beneath his palms. Satiny skin and a plump bum. He cupped her there, pressing her against his dick and creating a friction that set his teeth on edge. “Shall I be your sleep-aide, like the other night?”

  Her lips found his throat and kissed him. “Yes.”

  Sliding his hands from around her bum to her thighs, he lifted and carried her to the bed. He set her on the edge, letting his hands coast down her legs, to her feet, then he placed them on his shoulders. Like this, she was open and pink, completely vulnerable to his touch. Christ, he wanted her. And she wanted him.

  But not yet.

  “Your shoes are fantastic,” he said, peering up at her.

  She looked down at him, her cheeks flushing. “Technically they’re your shoes, since the sales clerk suggested I open an account at Louboutin’s, the one on Mount Street.”

  “Hope you bought the lot.”

  “Might have, with your preference for me to leave them on during sex,” she said, wiggling her feet and smiling cheekily. She knew him so well. Her shoes sparkled with crystals. “These are the best shoes evah. Isabella will be so jealous.”

  He might have to buy the entire store, if those shoes made her that damned happy. Of course, they made him happy. High heels made every man happy, or they should in his opinion. “What else did you buy?”

  “If you don’t stop talking, Sebastian, I’ll make you take me to Stonehenge,” she threatened.

  Tilting his head to one side, he gave her a smug smile. “Pretty sure you’re the one at my mercy, right now.”

  Her eyes glittered. She trailed a hand down her chest, lightly cupping her breast. She pinched a hard, pink nipple. He licked his lips and his erection became rock hard.

  “Looks like you’re at my mercy, too.”

  “Mutual imprisonment? I think not.” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her thighs, effectively pinning her to the spot. So very trusting, she was … and vulnerable. “Not when I have you like this. Completely vulnerable to my mouth.” He kissed her, and her hips jerked. “My tongue.” He traced a path to her clitoris and circled it, smiling when she smacked her palms on the bed and gasped his name.

  “Shall I tell you what to do with your hands?” he said, and then softly blew hot air against her clit.

  “They’re holding me uh-up,” she said, her voice rising.

  He licked her again. “Fast learner, darling. Impressive.”

  “Lots of sightseeing,” she panted, her breasts lightly bouncing.

  Undeterred by her second warning, he continued his leisurely explorations. “Stratford-on-Avon is very popular,” he said, and then sucked her clit into his mouth. She grabbed his hair, pulling and tugging as he ate her, as he feasted and gave her what she needed. Every lick, every nibble serving her. He served her, kneeling on the floor between her thighs and concentrating on bringing her to orgasm.

  “Bastian … ung … I’m going … oh my,” she said, her voice beautifully breathless.

  Another graze of his teeth over her swollen flesh and she screamed, her fingers nearly ripping his hair out. He winced a little, but didn’t stop. Instead, he watched her as she came apart, as her sexy body flushed and goosebumps dotted the landscape of her skin. Her lashes fluttered, eyes closing and luscious mouth parting.

  When she finally subsided, he laid his cheek against her thigh. She unwound her fingers from his hair.

  “Sorry about that,” she said, and then smiled sheepishly. “Might need to tie me up from now on.”

  “Really?” He raised a brow, but that sexy woman didn’t look away.

  Sheepish gave way to seductress. “Mmm-hmm. I think I would like it.”

  Unhooking his arms from her legs, he stood and leaned in to her. “You’d only like it?”

  She nipped at his jaw. “I might love it if you do it—one day. Need to ease into stuff like that.” Flopping back on the bed, she scooted to the middle.

  “Naughty Daisy.” His hard-on screamed for relief. But he didn’t deserve to be inside of her, not tonight. Tonight was only about her. On second thought, if she wanted to have sex, he would have no choice but to concede to her demands.

  He gazed down at her face. Sleepy eyes glowing with satisfaction blinked at him. “You’re a great sleep-aid, but further testing is needed to be sure.”

  “Shall I get other participants?” he teased.

  She pouted, full lips so kissable that he couldn’t help himself. For long, torturous minutes, he kissed and stroked her body, while her hands explored his. He growled when she found his erection and squeezed.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?” He kissed the corner of her mouth, then worked his way to her ear and took the lobe between his teeth.

  She arched her neck and turned her head. “You need sleep, too.”

  God, he was going to hate himself in the next few minutes. “Today was a long day for me,” he said, trying to ignore her hand that had moved from the outside of his pajama bottoms to the inside. She rubbed his piercing with her thumb, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning.

  “Naughty Sebastian,” she said, and then laughed a little. “I want this inside of me.”

  Hell, yes. Then he remembered what he didn’t come prepared for … Oh shit and kill him now.

  “But not tonight. I’m too sleepy,” she said on a yawn, then gave him a little smile and let go of him, her hand falling to the bed. “And satisfied.”

  Grimacing, he stood, painfully aroused. “See you in the morning,” he said as she rolled on her side, and slipped off her heels. Desire hit him hard again, all those curves and bare skin so close, yet he didn’t have permission to touch her. He crossed the room and opened her door.

  “Don’t forget to wear your sightseeing suit,” she called out.

  He paused. “I don’t bloody have a sightseeing suit.”

  “Mmmh-hmm.” She yawned again. “Whatever you say, your suitliness.”

  Ignoring her, he shut the door behind him and padded to his room. He scrubbed his hand over his face and walked i
nside. He glanced down at his erection and exhaled. Guess he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Daisy sang, lightly tapping her very own Sleeping Beauty on the nose. “Daylight’s a-wasting.”

  Drowsy blue eyes blinked up at her. “Good God, you’re one of those people.” He turned and buried his face in the pillow, giving her an unobstructed view of the tattoos she wanted to trace with her tongue.

  Later, she reminded herself. First, she had to make him pay. Although, what did it say about her that she had to blackmail him into spending time with her? Then again, no one had blackmailed him into giving her an orgasm that had made her see another universe full of stars that outshone the sun.

  She smiled. Yep, she’d lost her mind and then found it reading some poetry.

  “C’mon, Sebastian. You promised.”

  “What time is it?” he asked, his voice muffled.

  Unable to stop herself, she traced the large R on his upper back with the tip of her finger and he growled. She laughed. “Six AM. I let you sleep in.”

  “Jesus Christ, woman, go back to bed,” he groaned.

  “Are all world domination plotters this whiny in the morning? Need your cup of special world domination beverage to get you going first?”

  “Shut it, Daisy.”

  Her smile grew wider as she traced another tattoo on his back. “Bless your heart. Maybe if I fed you first, you wouldn’t be so ornery.”

  “Ha! I plan to be ornery all—hang on,” he said, turning over. His gaze landed on the nightstand. A tray loaded with plates of biscuits, grits, bacon, sausage, fruit, and muffins sat on it. “Did you make all that?”

  “Well, I had to pass the time somehow. I’ve been up since three,” she said, leaning over to grab the tray as he sat up. She placed it over his lap and smiled. “Hope you like it.”

  He dug in, then seemed to remember his manners and asked, “Have you eaten?”

  She nodded. “I always eat while I cook. It’s why I have to exercise every day. Else, I’d end up looking like my Aunt Jeannie.”

  “I approve of your methods,” he said around a mouthful of biscuit and ran an appreciative eye over her. He swallowed. “Am I off cupcake rationing?”