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Royal Scandal

Page 20

by Marquita Valentine


  “It wasn’t very kind of you,” she says primly.

  “What I wouldn’t give to know what you’re thinking about right now.” I mean it and with this sweet thing, flirting makes her nervous. Keeps her off-kilter, but she enjoys it.

  I enjoy it.

  “Drowning.”

  That’s the spirit. A weird spirit, but it’s a great comeback. “Me or”—I point my thumb over my shoulder—“the guy who keeps requesting the DJ play the greatest hits of Pennykeep? All three of them.”

  “Both.”

  Keep them coming, sweetheart.

  I suck in air through my teeth, pretending to be quasi-offended, when all I want to do is keep this up. “Ouch.”

  “If you knew I wasn’t Imogen, why did you come talk to me? Your news site low on scandals?”

  The claws are out.

  I laugh at her insult. “I thought you were the nice royal.”

  Her nose wrinkles adorably. “You make nice sound like an insult.”

  I shrug. “In my world, nice gets your ass handed to you.”

  “Perhaps you should consider relocating to a different planet.”

  Time to throw her off-kilter again. “Would you come with me, help me become a better man? Teach me the error of my ways?” I’m shocked to realize that I actually mean it.

  You’re losing it, Walker.

  “No. A woman couldn’t change you, and that’s not what you mean.”

  “Such a shame. I thought you’d like a challenge.” That’s better.

  “Like it’s a challenge to sleep with you.”

  “Do tell how you came to that conclusion.”

  Her cheeks turn scarlet. “I’ve seen the images you post. You’re not exactly private or modest.”

  “There’s no such thing as privacy, and modesty is overrated.”

  “Only because those things make it more difficult for people like you.”

  People like me, huh? “Would you like to get out of here?”

  She nods and I hold out my hand, daring her to take it. Daring her to ignore the family that’s finally noticed what’s going on and are calling her name. Warning her away from me.

  Her hand slips into mine.

  Victory.

  “Are you really six three?” she asks as I maneuver us through the crowd.

  I grin. “Afraid so, shorty.”

  “I’m average. Five five.”

  I look her over thoroughly She’s curvy yet slender. Delicate-looking in some places. But that mouth, those tits and ass…“Nothing average about you.”

  Oh my.

  Security opens the door.

  “Thank you,” Charlotte says with a smile that’s sweet.

  The security guard preens at that smile and it makes me want to punch him. “My pleasure. Have a good night and—”

  I step between them, facing Charlotte. “I thought you wanted to go.” My tone is harsh. Unreasonably so.

  “Oh, I do.”

  “Then stop flirting with your security guard and get your sweet ass in my car.” I don’t care how much of an asshole I’m being. I have to get her out of here before she comes to her senses and changes her mind.

  “I changed my mind,” she says.

  Son of a bitch.

  “No, you didn’t.” The valet pulls my silver Bugatti up to the curb and hops out, opening both doors. “C’mon, princess, live on the wild side. Promise to have you home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

  She doesn’t answer me and my heart slams against my chest when I realize that I’ve gone too far. I’ve overplayed my hand and was more of an ass than she’s willing to put up with.

  “Fine. I get the hint.” I lift her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles in the most princely of ways. “Such a pleasure meeting you, sweetheart.”

  Reluctantly, I let go of her hand and walk away. I picked the wrong twin. I should have gone to the other one and flattered her to death.

  But I don’t want the queen. I want the wallflower. The one who never gets the attention she deserves.

  “Fuck it,” I growl and turn around, stalking back to Charlotte. “You need a reason to go, don’t you?”

  Her lips part, but nothing really comes out except a squeak that kinda sounds like a yes.

  “I’ll give you one.” I touch her shoulder, then my hand is gliding up her neck and curling around.

  “Give me one what?”

  I smile a little, right before my mouth lowers to hers. “This.”

  “Oh.” I stop. She then says, “Go on, then.”

  I brush my lips against hers and nearly go out of my mind at the lust that drives through me like a Mack truck. The woman in my arms is intoxicating.

  Charlotte grabs my tux and slams her mouth against mine, frantic. But I don’t want her frantic with me—at least not now.

  I want to take my time. I touch her face, wanting to trace the lines and curves. Wanting to memorize every inch of her.

  Pulling her firmly against me, she gasps into my mouth and I wonder if she can feel how hard my cock is for her. I slide my tongue inside, tangling with hers, and I’m rocked to my core.

  I knew I wanted her, knew I wanted my hands on her, but this kiss…this kiss is a prelude to mind-blowing, can’t-walk-straight-for-days sex.

  Something hard butts against my head. Something my brain recognizes but can’t quite relay to the rest of me. I open my eyes and slice my gaze to the man standing almost on top of me.

  Motherfucker.

  Her brother has a gun to my brain.

  Not his security force.

  Him.

  This prince means business.

  I stop kissing Charlotte and attempt to lean my head in the opposite direction, but that fucker follows me.

  “Keep your fucking hands off my sister,” he growls, pressing the gun into my skull with even more force.

  “Shouldn’t she have a say in this?” I ask.

  Charlotte comes out of her daze and fists her hands on her hips. She’s fucking adorable.

  “Put the water gun down,” she orders, her voice sharp.

  I almost turn to knock the toy gun out of his hand, but I decide to let Charlotte handle this. I doubt she has very many opportunities to tell anyone off.

  “Go inside,” her brother barks at her.

  Don’t listen to him, baby.

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven, and I have the right to kiss whomever I want.”

  Hell yes. The princess is not such a meek little thing after all.

  “Wait until next week and then we can talk about your penchant for making out with scumbags.”

  Now that’s fucking funny. I can’t imagine Charlotte making out with anyone, much less scumbags like me. She’s not the type. I already got her pegged as the kind of girl who sits at home on Friday nights, watching Netflix and surfing the Internet between episodes.

  Later, she might do a little finger dancing under the sheets, but with the lights off and the covers pulled up to her chin.

  Fuck, I want to see her touch her clit.

  Order her to slide her fingers inside and—

  “No.” Suddenly, she grabs my hand and pulls on it, jerking me out of my fantasies that will keep me going for days. “We’re leaving. Do have a lovely night, Colin.”

  “I will kill you, if she’s hurt,” Colin says.

  While it’s not imaginative, it is real and he loves his sister, so I respect that.

  “Understood.” I get in the Bugatti with her.

  “Oh dear, I’m in the driver’s seat,” she says as I fasten my seatbelt.

  “Looks like you belong there.” I toss her the key fob and she catches it neatly. “Press the start button and drive, gorgeous…unless you regret what happened and want to go back to your punch station.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Then she starts the engine and hits the gas.

  I smile, knowing that before the night is out, I’ll have all her secrets.
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