by J Santiago
Tristan finally relinquished her mouth and eased her down on to the bed. The picture she painted was almost too much—clad in lace, hair in disarray, lips glistening. He fought the urge to jump on top of her and slam himself inside. Her chest heaved, and her eyes danced with lust. Instead of stepping in between her parted legs—which he wanted more than anything—he shuffled away from her.
He stared at her as he pulled off his hoodie. The tenuous grasp on his control wavered. He sensed some inherent danger coming from getting tangled up with Ele. She got to him. Her wonder at the ordinary endeared her to him. Her confidence and self-assurance turned him on. Her want permeated the air around them, and Tristan reveled in it.
He leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her body. Ele surprised him, wrapping her arms around him and trying to pull him onto her. He lifted his hand and traced the line of her body from her collarbone and down along her breast, circling her nipple before continuing to the edge of her panties. Her breath caught, and she shuddered. Tristan grinned as lust shot through him. He wanted her panting and begging for him.
He glanced up. It was a mistake. When their eyes met, something touched him. He’d experienced it in the dressing room at St. Peter’s and again now. All of her shields fell away, exposing her vulnerable underbelly. It drew him in and swallowed him up. It made this moment between them more than sex. He paused, and in the prolonged second, he knew he wasn’t going to have sex with her today.
“What?” she asked breathlessly.
He broke the stare and slid his hands beneath the delicate waistband of her panties. Her legs moved restlessly as her desire flared. His fingers moved into the warm, wet recess of her body. A softly uttered mewl left her mouth as his fingers delved inside of her. He groaned helplessly as he drowned in the proof of her desire. His whole body throbbed with want, even as he dimly remembered his hastily made decision to refrain from sex with her tonight. So, with one well-orchestrated flick inside and one well-placed press of his thumb on her clit, he made her come around him.
He dropped his head near her ear. “Love how ready you are for me, E,” he murmured.
The heel of his hand pressed against her clit, drawing out her orgasm. She squeezed as she rode it out. When her eyes fluttered open, he scooped her up in his arms and rolled them. She sprawled against him as tiny tremors racked her body.
He kissed the top of her head, ran his hand through her mahogany tresses, worshipped her with small touches. As much as it pained him to admit it, his fingers itched for his phone, so he could capture the moment. They were a study in opposites. Him fully dressed, her blissed out in her knickers and lace. The dark hue of his skin against her creamy olive tone. His dyed mini ’fro, her silky tresses. His anticipation, her ecstasy.
Caption. This.
Her lips touched the underside of his jaw, and he ducked down to meet her gaze.
“E,” he said, nuzzling into her perfect collarbone. “That was banger,” he said.
A flush stained her neck, and he watched it spread, captivated by the way her body reacted to everything.
“Banger?” she asked, her voice library soft.
He laughed. “Banger.”
Tristan dropped another kiss on her head, his hand not idle either rubbing up and down her arm.
Surprising him, she straddled his hips and leaned forward with her hands on his chest. The feel of her damp knickers against his rock-hard groin was sheer torture.
“Can you stay?” she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Not a chance.”
He fought to control himself as she rubbed against him. His hands clung to her hips, and he halted her movements. Confusion flashed across her face before she crawled off him. Grabbing her hand, he cradled her jaw.
“Let’s take this slow,” he murmured before he sat up and placed a gentle kiss on her mouth. Then, he pulled her back down on his chest. “Gaffer has curfew set, and no way Cal and Ro will let me get away without knowing where I am.”
After a moment, she asked, “How’d you manage tonight?”
“Ro had some Skipper duties, and Caleb’s parents are here. Won’t always be this easy.”
He felt her head move in a nod.
“Tomorrow is light. Then, we have the afternoon off to be with family or whatever. Cal already asked me to hang with his parents, but I can get away for dinner.”
“I can’t tomorrow night. Juliana and I have a state dinner at the consulate.”
“Okay,” he said, but he was discontented. Following their off day, it would be regular preparation and practice. There would be no time for extracurricular activities. He was shocked at how disappointed he was.
“Is any of your family coming?”
His disappointment faded. “Just one of my sisters.”
Ele scooted up. Taking the sheet with her, she held it to her chest and sat up. “Six sisters, you said. How did they choose who gets to come?”
“We plan to be here for the duration. Everyone should get a chance.” He gave her a jaunty grin. “But really, Sheena is my best mate.”
“Like me and Jamie.”
“Aye. But we can go places together,” he teased.
“Show-off.”
He liked her quick wit and easy nature. She surprised him as she handled his teasing with natural aplomb, except of course if it was about her sexual history. But fair enough.
“So, if you are busy tomorrow and I am occupied the two days after, then we play the following day. We are thinking we’ll see each other three days from now.”
“I hadn’t actually counted, but that seems right.” She snuggled into his side again, draping her limbs across him. “Seems an awfully long time when you lay it out like that. Bloody football matches.”
“Bloody football matches? Really? Bloody football matches?” He flipped her on her back, pinning her arms with his hands at her wrists. “Blasphemy, Your Highness.”
His mouth landed on her collarbone, lightly rubbing his stubbled jaw against it. She squirmed, laughter spilling from her lips.
“Someone’s ticklish,” he said with a wicked chuckle.
Ele laughed louder, practically thrashing in an attempt to move away from him. “Tristan,” she managed to gasp between giggles.
Relentless, he continued to stroke the indentation along her shoulder, causing her to squeal with hilarity and delight. Distantly, Tristan heard a thump and then footsteps before the bedroom door flung open. He released Ele, flipped, and yanked the comforter over her, hiding her from view. He looked across the room at a frantic, red-faced Robert.
“Your Highness,” Robert said, his tone clipped, “is everything okay?”
Ele giggled once more before clearing her throat. With a blush staining her cheeks, her hair wild around her face, and a somewhat sheepish grin, she peered up at Robert. “I apologize. Everything is fine.”
Maybe it was for Ele, but Tristan was pissed. He glared at Robert, who didn’t appear to be the least bit alarmed by the obvious anger radiating from him.
“You should probably leave,” Tristan snapped.
Robert met Tristan’s glare with one of his own and planted his feet, appearing to grow even larger.
“Robert,” Princess Eleanor interrupted, “close the door on your way out.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Robert said. Bowing to his charge, he turned to leave but not before shooting a withering look at Tristan.
When they were alone, Ele sat up, pulling the sheet with her. She placed a hand on Tristan’s rigid back, his muscles coiled tight. The tension faded, and he dragged his gaze from the door and met hers.
“Robert is always going to protect me.”
When Tristan opened his mouth to express his annoyance at Robert’s interruption, Ele held up her hand. She was still in tiara mode, and her sheer power in the moment was both intoxicating and intimidating.
“It doesn’t matter who you are outside this room, in here, with me, you are subject to invasions of
privacy, being viewed as a potential threat and security risk, and always”—she paused, emphasizing her point—“always second to the duty of my team and the crown.” She leaned forward and kissed him, an attempt to soothe. “Do not ever tell Robert what to do. He does not play nice when it comes to me. It’s apparent he likes you, and he knows you make me happy. It’s the only thing that saved you today.”
Tristan was not soothed. Her little speech served to piss him off even more.
“I’m going to go.” He climbed out of bed and located his hoodie. When he pulled it over his head, he looked back to where Ele sat, motionless. “I guess I’ll see you in a couple of days.” He returned to the bed and leaned in to kiss her forehead. Then, he walked slowly to the door.
“Good luck.”
He looked back to acknowledge her and got tripped up on the sight. Just a moment before, she had been Princess Ele. Now, with his abrupt departure, she looked like she was just a girl being left after a row with a guy she’d shagged. And he was sorry.
But he wasn’t sorry enough to turn around and make it better because, while he sympathized with the girl, he was pissed at the princess.
10
19 June
The Michigan Inn
“Your Highness, the prince is calling for you,” Millie announced as Ele turned back to face the mirror.
Beatrix paused in her ministrations, meeting Ele’s gaze.
“Would you like me to come back after your call?” Her stylist picked up a clip from the vanity and placed it where she had been working, so she could finish when Ele completed her call.
“Yes, please,” Ele said, holding out her hand for the iPad.
Millie gave it to her, and Ele waited for the room to clear. She perched the device against the mirror and dropped her chin onto her fist.
“Hello, Jamie,” she said.
He was dapper in a navy-blue sport coat and gold tie, his dark hair styled just right. Ele missed him so fiercely at the moment, and she frowned.
He smiled at her, and then he paused and narrowed his eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she assured, schooling her features. Sometimes, she hated technology. “Busy day?”
He practically scoffed. “Aren’t they all?” That earned him a genuine smile. “Ah, there she is,” he teased. “Seriously, Ele, twin telepathy kicked in. What happened?”
“If your sixth sense was that good, you would have called last night,” she quipped.
“Did something happen with the boy already?”
That he knew about Tristan and his presence in her hotel suite last night had been expected. Robert didn’t necessarily report to James, but there was a dotted line of responsibility, and Robert took his duty seriously. She was sure he hadn’t revealed any details, but he would have reported Tristan’s presence.
“Our lives happened.” She pursed her lips, trying hard not to elicit a full-blown pout.
“Well, that’s ominous. Tell me.”
Ele’s cheeks heated. She couldn’t believe she was about to discuss this with her brother, but she wasn’t ready to share it with Millie, and she would never reveal any of her personal life to Juliana.
She ducked, placing her forehead on her fists, and spoke to the table below her, “We were messing around; he was tickling me actually.” She didn’t try to stop the smile.
She was hurt and angry about the way he’d left, but it was still one of the best nights she’d ever enjoyed. Every thought of Tristan in her bed heated and loosened her body.
“Ele, I can hardly hear you. Buck up.”
Lifting her head, she continued, “I was making a lot of noise, laughing, maybe a shriek even.”
“Oh.” Jamie nodded, already understanding what might have occurred. “Robert?”
“Robert.”
“Our lives happened,” he repeated with a sympathetic grin.
“Right. So, Robert burst in, and Tristan wasn’t very happy about that.”
“Were you”—he cleared his throat—“naked?”
“Not naked per se,” she mumbled as a picture of her in her bra and panties flashed. She would have been completely indisposed if Tristan hadn’t decided to take things slow. She bit her lip, totally embarrassed to be having this conversation with her brother, of all people. “Tristan, bless him, was quick. He pulled the blanket over me. Robert didn’t see anything. But after I assured him I was okay, Tristan might have told him to leave the room.”
Jamie snickered. “Showdown among the alphas.”
“It’s not funny at all,” Ele said, indignant.
“It’s bloody classic. I might have paid.”
“I was half-naked.”
“I take it back. There’s not enough money in the world.”
“Right.”
“Let me pick up from there,” Jamie said. “You explained to Tristan what Robert’s job entailed, and he was not pleased with the explanation.”
“The explanation”—her face scrunched up—“and maybe the tone.” Shrugging, she said, “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps indeed.”
“He left shortly after.”
Jamie was quiet, contemplative. “I’m sure that’s all true, but let me offer some more perspective.”
“What?”
“You were naked, in bed, and another man walked in.”
“Not all the way naked,” she clarified, her cheeks heating. It didn’t matter how many times she went over it; she got embarrassed every time.
“It might have been more proprietary than anything.”
“How’s that?”
“Some men are possessive, love. They don’t want any other man to see the woman they’ve been with while she’s naked—or almost naked. Maybe he was angry on your behalf. Inner caveman and all.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve spoken to your footballer.”
“Yes, so he informed me. What were you about with that?”
“Eleanor, if there were ever anyone who had spun me on my head like he’s obviously done to you, wouldn’t you have a go at that person?”
She would have enjoyed being able to say no. But it would be a lie. “Probably,” she answered with as much dignity as possible.
Jamie smiled knowingly. “I wanted to get a feel for him. Our lives withstanding.”
“And?”
“I quite liked him. I mean, he’s all wrong for you on paper.”
She nodded. He was utterly wrong for her. There wasn’t one thing about them that made any sense. Not one. His background, his occupation, his pesky obsession with social media, his inner caveman. But damn if he didn’t make her feel alive. Truly alive. Like the world was open to her in a way it hadn’t been in way too long. For someone who took life too seriously and had difficulty opening up, his lightheartedness, energy, and love of life was refreshing and rejuvenating.
“There aren’t many men who could handle you, this life.” Jamie shrugged. “I think he might be one of them.”
“Yes, well, it might be over before it’s really begun after last night.”
“I wouldn’t count him out. He’s got the heart of a champion.”
“You are letting your inner Hartesfield fanboy rule your emotions,” Ele teased.
Jamie laughed, the sound of it warming Ele, making her miss him. “If this were the olden days, Tristan Davenport would be a white knight, riding to your rescue.”
Ele sobered. “But don’t you know, Jamie?”
“Know what?”
“I’m the only one who can save me.”
“Right. But he can be the spoils of war.”
Tristan Davenport, the prize?
Yes, he was definitely worth fighting for.
“But, Robert, please?”
Ele, Robert, and Michael rode along in the Range Rover on their way back from the consulate. Dressed for the state dinner in a floor-length gown, complete with one of her tiaras, Ele continued to plead with Robert, as she had been doing all evening. She rubbed her tem
ple. No matter which one she wore, the crown on her head always made her ache, like she had to pay some price for the beauty of it.
Not a bad metaphor for my life.
“Ma’am, you know how impossible something like this is. I can’t march down to the front desk and request permission to do a security check on the National Team.”
“Now, you’re lying. You can do and have access to whatever you want.” She rarely abused the power at her disposal, but for Robert to pretend he wouldn’t do anything to secure her safety was true rubbish.
She watched as Robert and Michael exchanged guarded glances.
“Give me your phone,” she demanded.
He turned in his seat to look at her. There was no question who would win the argument; they both knew it, but as a way to display his displeasure, he would be obstinate.
She held out her hand. “Now.”
He grunted but reached into his suit pocket and extracted his phone. “You are just going to make yourself miserable,” he announced as he unlocked it and handed it over.
Ele didn’t have a smartphone. She had a burner flip phone she carried for emergencies, but after the palace accounts had been hacked, she’d gladly given up her smartphone. She didn’t have social media either. The palace public relations department manned all of the accounts associated with her name. She wasn’t sure how Juliana was managing both a smartphone and social media, but Ele refused to capitulate. However, since Tristan had entered her life, she’d found ways to follow him. First through Millie and then, after much begging, through Robert. She knew Tristan was with Caleb and Caleb’s parents today, and she also knew he wouldn’t be able to resist documenting his adventures. She just wanted to lay eyes on him.
She opened the app and began to scroll. The first pictures were of their postgame workout earlier in the day. Then, there was a lunch with the four of them and a trip to Navy Pier. Tristan smiled at her from what looked like a fun house. Another photo captured him and Caleb racing remote control boats. He took a selfie with the giant swing ride in the background with a caption of: Caleb swings … and misses. She had no idea what it meant, but his wide smile indicated his delight. The last picture came from high above in a Ferris wheel: Caleb is scared of heights. Had to find a new friend. It was Tristan with a woman. Ele’s heart dropped.