Royal Rebel: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Flings With Kings)

by Jessica Peterson

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  She was biting her bottom lip again. “What about transportation?”

  “Done.”

  “Itineraries? Dinner reservations? Snacks? I know you haven’t thought about snacks.”

  “All taken care of.”

  “But how in the world are we going to pay for this? Not everyone is a prin—”

  “Aly.” I uncrossed my leg and leaned my forearms on the table. “I’ve got it handled, all right? The plan, the money. Everything. You’ve already done your fair share of the work. So let me do mine.”

  She studied me for a moment. “Can I really trust you with this?”

  “You can.” I ducked my head. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s stag parties.”

  “That I believe,” she said, taking another sip of champagne. “All right.”

  I turned around to grab the champagne bottle so I could refill our glasses. “Brilliant. Meeting adjourned. Now we can get to the fun.”

  Aly blinked. “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Unless you want to talk about the bikinis you’ll be wearing. Then I will happily extend the meeting portion of our evening.”

  “What about you?” Aly held out her glass to me, a playful glimmer in her eye. “Are you a trunks guy? Don’t European guys wear speedos?”

  I laughed as I gave her a refill. I settled the bottle back in the bucket, the ice crunching pleasantly. “Definitely no speedos for me. I like to wear trunks. Or nothing at all, depending on who I’m with.”

  It was dark, so I couldn’t be sure. But I thought I saw a pink flush creep into Aly’s cheeks. It hit me that neither of us had seen the other completely naked. You didn’t have time or space to strip down when you were hooking up in bathrooms during lunch hour. Our encounters had been all about speed and orgasmic efficiency.

  Now I wished I’d taken the time to properly explore her body. I knew how to make her come and shout. Knew her pussy. But beyond that, I didn’t know much. I could kick myself for not learning more when I had the chance. Aly was a beautiful girl. She had a beautiful body.

  I’d done everything according to the rules we’d set. Her no talking. My no connecting. So why did I suddenly feel like I’d fucked up?

  She surprised me when she said, “You know, I’ve actually never been skinny dipping.”

  The scene was there before I could suppress it: Aly in waist-high water on an empty beach. Her bare back was to me. She turned, the sun catching on her eyes as she smiled and said something wicked. Her nipples puckered and perfect. I dove in and I grabbed her and laid her out on the sand. Both of us naked. I folded her leg onto her chest, spreading her wide. Her breath caught when I nudged inside her. No preamble, no words, no condom. Just us and the sun and the sound of the ocean. She was swollen, soft. So fucking soft. Only for me.

  She was only ever that soft for me.

  A pulse of blood, hot and eager, landed in the tip of my cock, making me blink. The image disappeared. But the need that burned me up from the inside out didn’t.

  I cleared my throat. “Look,” I said, pointing. I didn’t want her looking at me. I didn’t want her seeing the need that had to be written all over my face. “Parliament.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Rob

  Seeing London through Aly’s eyes was like experiencing it for the first time. In between bites of dinner and sips of champagne, we took in the spires of Parliament, the glowing clock face of Big Ben. The London Eye, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the stark lines of the Tate Modern on the south bank. Didn’t hurt that the city was putting on a show tonight. Everything was lit up, scrubbed clean by a recent bout of rain. A current of excitement and possibility charged the air. It was like London knew I had a girl to impress, and it was performing beautifully.

  Aly didn’t stop smiling. The kind of smile that touched her eyes and twisted my heart. I wished we had more time. This was just scratching the surface. London was so much more than monuments and buildings. This is where my family came from. This city’s history was our history. And I wanted to share that history with Aly.

  But Aly wasn’t mine to share things with. Tonight was a fluke. A stroke of luck. She and I would never be together like this—just the two of us out on a Saturday night—again. Her Saturdays didn’t belong to me. They belonged to her. To Philip. She’d spend them with him, and I’d…I suppose I’d spend them with the likes of Francesca. Although I hadn’t really seen her since the engagement party fiasco. She hadn’t texted me since, and I hadn’t texted her, either.

  Honestly, I hadn’t thought about her until now. The only girl I could seem to think about was the one currently sitting across from me. The one with intelligent eyes and a quick mouth. The one who turned me on like I was a match and she was the strike.

  After Laurence cleared up the last course, Aly and I made our way to the railing at the stern. We were passing The Globe now, on the south bank to our left. It was a replica of the original theater built in the late sixteenth century by Shakespeare’s theater company. Now companies performed his plays several times a day there.

  “This is the coolest,” Aly breathed. She’d draped the blanket around her shoulders, and she held it in place with her fingers. “Ever been to see a play at The Globe?”

  I nodded. “I have. I could’ve done without the rain—it’s open air, just like it was back in Elizabethan times—but yes, it was very cool.” I settled my forearms on the railing and leaned into them. “So. What do you think so far? About London.”

  She smiled at me. “I love it. Thank you.” She looked up at the stars. “It feels alive, you know? Like I’m in the center of the universe or something.”

  I felt like I was in the center of something, too. Couldn’t tell if it was the universe. But it was something new. Big.

  “Better than the station wagon, right?”

  “Hell yes.”

  The hum of the engine filled the silence between us. We dipped as the boat hit a wave. The Tower came into view. Aly gasped.

  “Is that where they took Anne Boleyn?”

  I nodded. “It is. See that opening there? That’s Traitor’s Gate. No one knows for sure if that’s where she passed through. But rumor has it that was where she had her last glimpse of the outside world before Henry beheaded her.”

  “That’s insane!” She scoffed. “No offense, but some of your ancestors were kinda sociopaths, weren’t they?”

  I laughed. “Kinda? I’d say definitely. Although you needn’t worry—I didn’t inherit those bloodthirsty genes.”

  Aly looked at me, her hair whipping around her face. I wanted to touch her so badly.

  So. Badly.

  I clasped my hands. Maybe that would help.

  “So you didn’t get the bloodthirsty genes. But you don’t think you got the good ones, either,” she said. “Why is that?”

  I dropped my head. Didn’t miss a thing, this one.

  I rocked forward, looking up. The dramatic spires and swoops of Tower Bridge loomed ahead of us. Lit up, the whole thing was especially striking.

  But Aly wasn’t looking at the bridge. She was looking at me. And somehow I knew she was seeing me. Not the prince. Not the playboy.

  Me. Whoever the hell I was.

  “You know he didn’t even tell me about his engagement?” I said quietly. “Kit. Jack and I found out from an article that popped up on his Facebook feed. Aly, my own brother didn’t even trust me with news that had already broken. What does that say about me?”

  Aly went still. “You don’t know, do you?”

  I turned my head. “Know what?”

  She shifted the blanket. “Kit and Em’s engagement was a stunt. At least in the beginning. The Queen arranged the whole thing to distract the press from Jane’s divorce.”

  My pulse blared in my ears, even as the blood inside my skin went still. The engagement was a farce? That didn’t make sense.

  That’s why Kit didn’t tell me?
r />   “You can’t be serious,” I said, standing.

  Aly’s eyes moved up to stay on mine. “It was all fake, Rob. Kit and Emily didn’t want to tell you because then you’d be implicated. It’s not that he didn’t trust you. He didn’t want you to get hurt.”

  The idea spun around inside my head. It all made sense now. How suddenly Emily had appeared. How weirdly stiff the two of them were in the beginning. The way Kit had wanted to propose a second time.

  I wanted to punch something. Or smile.

  I wanted to punch my brother. Then hug the shit out of him.

  All this time, I’d assumed Kit hadn’t told me because he’d thought I was defective. Indiscreet. Unworthy of trust, just like Alexander had been. Kit was the Queen’s favorite out of the four of my siblings. Over the past couple years, I’d gotten the feeling the two of them were in cahoots. Against Alexander. Against the world.

  Against me. It wasn’t anything I didn’t deserve. If history was any indication, I wasn’t a safe bet. I’d ruin anything I touched. I’d spill secrets, and cause trouble, and sully the family name.

  But now I knew Kit kept news of the engagement from me because he cared. Not because he didn’t trust me. Maybe he didn’t think I was defective.

  Maybe he didn’t think I was heir to Alexander’s fuck ups.

  Maybe I wasn’t.

  I shoved the thought from my head. As much as I wanted to believe it, I knew in the marrow of my being it wasn’t true. Broadly speaking, Kit knew about our grandfather’s indiscretions. But he didn’t know as much as I did. Didn’t know Alexander’s past like I did.

  “Jesus,” I managed. I dug a hand through my hair. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. How on earth did they pull it off?”

  Aly shook her head. “I have no idea. I hated the whole thing, to be honest. But then they fell in love, and the rest is history. Literally.”

  We watched in silence as the bridge passed overhead. The rumble of the engine echoed off the concrete and steel. The stutter and honk of cars got really loud for a moment. Aly let out a breath, a barely audible sound. She was smiling again.

  I elbowed her gently, raising my voice. “Thank you. For telling me.”

  She turned that smile on me. “Of course. You deserve to know. I get that I’m in no position to give you advice—”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know.” Another shrug. It was getting quiet again, and so was Aly’s voice. “I’m still figuring out things, too. But you keep telling me I should give myself the benefit of the doubt. Maybe you should try taking your own advice. You’re not some rotten apple, or black sheep. You’re kind when you want to be. Considerate. I mean, come on!” She waved to the night around us. “You took pity on a girl who was stood up by her date and arranged the tour of London she’d mentioned—once!—that she wanted to take. You sent me the dresses. Gave me a ride home. You’re trying really hard to be good to your brother. Regardless of what you think about yourself, you do give a shit, Rob.”

  There it was again—the thought that maybe I really wasn’t like Alexander. And again, I pushed it aside. Believing in something like that wasn’t worth the risk. Especially when I was around Aly.

  I settled the backs of my elbows on the railing. Decided I’d talk about how I was turning a new leaf in other areas of my life. “I’m trying. Some days, I feel like I’ve got a grip on things. Others…I don’t know who the fuck I am.”

  Aly turned around, leaning her back on the railing beside my right arm. The way she turned her head to look at me—the way her hair moved and the sinews in her neck softened—

  I shook my head. Washed down the want I felt for her with a good bit of champagne. I had a little buzz going. Nothing crazy, but just enough to light my need for Aly on fire.

  “I used to always think I’d have it all figured out by thirty,” she said, looking down at her feet. She scoffed. “It was a rude awakening to get here and realize I don’t have very much figured out at all. If it makes you feel any better, I don’t really know who I am, either. I mean, I know who I think I should be. I look around and I want to be certain things other people are.”

  “You’re very bad at that,” I said. “Comparing yourself to everyone else.”

  As the words left my mouth, I realized how bad I was at that, too. Although I only compared myself to one man.

  Aly let her head loll to the side. If I wanted to, I could lean forward and kiss her. Her mouth was right there.

  Right fucking there.

  Need tightened between my legs. Softened the space inside my chest.

  “And you’re very bad at picking dates for engagement parties,” she said.

  “The worst.” I noticed her eyes flicked to my mouth, just for a second. “You were saying?”

  My eyes were on her mouth now.

  “Maybe none of us knows who the hell we are,” she said. “Maybe we’re supposed to be a work in progress, you know? Like the happiness we’re after is a moving target instead of some finite destination.”

  I nodded. “I like that idea.”

  She offered me a tight smile. “Look at us, having shit in common. Who knew?”

  The boat rolled again. We’d just passed a commuter boat that had kicked up a bit of a wake. Aly stumbled, veering right into me. I stood. Caught her with the bulk of my body. We rolled again, this time in the opposite direction, and I grabbed her by the blanket to keep her from tumbling backward.

  “Whoa,” she gasped. Her hand darted out and curled around the lapel of my jacket. The blanket fell off her shoulder. A shot of awareness ripped through me when her knuckles brushed my chest. Instinctively I roped an arm around her, curling her into me.

  The scent of her perfume filled my head. Her breasts brushed against my chest with every breath she took. She felt warm and soft in my arms.

  “You okay?” I murmured. I wanted to touch my lips to her hair. I didn’t.

  She swallowed audibly. Looked up at me, but didn’t pull away. “Yeah. Yes. Sorry.”

  The boat was back on an even keel now. Aly dropped her hand from my lapel. I dropped my arm. But then, without thinking, I reached for the blanket and brought it back over her shoulder, tucking her in.

  She was definitely blushing.

  The boat was turning around. My heart fell. The night was halfway over. Why did I feel like it was just getting started? I couldn’t just go home and go to bed after this. I felt so bloody awake. Awake enough to make me feel like I didn’t need to sleep for weeks.

  She looked up at me. I reached out and curled a stray hair behind her ear. Her lips fell apart.

  I nearly groaned. Christ, she was sexy.

  “And how are things with Philip? You guys the real deal or what?”

  Her eyes searched mine. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s a really great guy, it’s just…there’s no spark. And I can’t decide if it’s because we haven’t been dating long enough—like, we don’t know each other well yet. Or if it’s because the spark just isn’t there.”

  She shivered. She stepped a little closer. I didn’t move.

  The only sparks I knew about were the ones that happened between people when they were naked together. It’d always been pretty obvious pretty fast, to me at least, whether those sparks were there or not. And if they weren’t there, there was nothing you could do about it. You either had chemistry or you didn’t.

  I got the feeling Aly and Philip didn’t have chemistry. But Aly and me?

  What we had was beyond sparks. It was fucking fire.

  “Is he good to you?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the way that I was good to you.”

  Her eyes snapped to meet mine, flashing with anger. “You really think I’d ever talk to you about my sex life?”

  “Considering you had the best sex of your life with me? Yes.”

  She pulled back, brow puckering in disbelief. “You weren’t—”

/>   “I wasn’t?” I arched a brow. “We’ve always been honest with each other, Aly. Don’t start lying now.”

  It was fun, teasing her like this. Getting a rise out of her. But part of me really did want to know about Philip. I wasn’t sure what that meant. Wouldn’t keep me from continuing this conversation, however.

  “You were good,” Aly finally ground out. “Really good.”

  I grinned, easing my tongue along my bottom lip. “Better than Philip, yeah?”

  Aly shook her head. Looked at her feet.

  “Philip and I haven’t slept together.”

  The wheels inside my head came to a screeching halt. My heart leapt. Aly hadn’t slept with Philip? The forever bloke she’d tossed me aside for? Why not?

  A small, mean part of me wanted to believe I’d ruined her for anyone else. The way she’d seemingly ruined me.

  “Why the hell not?” I said. “I thought he was ‘real deal’ material.”

  Aly shrugged. “He is. He could be, I mean. And I was trying to take things slow. But I just…”

  “Are you attracted to him?” I asked, looking her squarely in the eye.

  She looked right back.

  “No,” she said at last.

  I stared at her. “Then why are you with him?”

  “Because sex isn’t the most important thing any more!”

  “But it’s still important. You really think you can marry a guy you’re not attracted to? Jesus Christ, Aly. You can do better than that.”

  She shot me a glare. “That’s not your call to make.”

  It was my turn to look at her. Really look. She was angry, yes. But underneath that anger, I saw hunger. Hunger I recognized because I felt it, too.

  I swallowed. Maybe Philip wasn’t worthy of Aly. But I knew, beyond a doubt, that I definitely wasn’t. I had to be careful not to lead her on. I had to make sure she knew where we stood.

  I could give her sex. Orgasms. But I couldn’t give her the real deal.

  Judging from the look in her eyes, though, she wasn’t looking for the real deal right now. She was looking for something only I could give her.

  She was the boss. Who was I to say no?