Royally Loved: The Royal Romances Books 1-5

by McKenna James

  “So, that's sex?” she asked nonchalantly as I pulled out and rolled over to my back to remove the condom.

  I laughed to myself as I walked to the small bathroom to get a warm cloth.

  “You didn’t answer me, and why are you laughing?”

  I kissed her hard to shut her up.

  “Yes, sweetheart, I suppose you could say that is sex. More so fucking than anything.”

  “Why do you say that?” She stopped me when I tried to clean her, sitting up and looking at me pointedly.

  “Because fucking is raw, uninhibited. Making love it passionate and sweet.”

  “Will you make love to me too, Prince?”

  Damn, this woman was gonna kill me.

  “When the time is right, sweetheart. I’ll take you every way I can have you.”

  “I can’t wait.” She flung her arms around me and collapsed against my chest.

  “I didn’t expect you to enjoy your first time and be begging me for more. Quite the boost to my confidence.” I winked and pulled her up from the bed, leading her to the bathroom.

  “Maybe because we're in love,” she said easily.

  “Not maybe, definitely.”

  I started the shower while Eliza pulled two fluffy towels from the closet.

  “Eliza, I forgot to ask, are you on the pill?”

  She looked at me as if I had just asked the dumbest question ever. “What pill?”

  “Birth control pill? You know, contraception,” I stated flatly, hoping she would say yes.

  “Oh, no. I never had a need to before—never thought about it,” she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

  “You’ll need to see a doctor, because eventually I’m taking you raw.”

  She smiled. “I'm so glad to hear you say that there will be a next time.”

  “Baby, with you there's always going to be a next time,” I said as I kissed her once again.

  14

  Eliza

  The smile on my face each time I caught my reflection in the mirror these past four days was proof of just how happy I had been. I was in love with the Prince of England, he was in love with me, and we finally celebrated our love in the most intimate way two people could. I had no idea that having sex for the first time would be so enjoyable because I had heard horror stories from friends who had told me that it hurt terribly and they felt different afterward. I guess that was why I wasn't in any hurry to do it. With Andrew, it wasn't like that at all. No, it was special, warm, and natural. It was the most wonderful experience I'd ever had. I had never connected with another human being the way we did that night, and I’d never want to be with anyone else for the rest of my life. Drew's body fit mine perfectly, like he was made for me and I for him.

  “Oh, what a beautiful day!” I happily exclaimed as I almost danced across my room to get dressed for class.

  How could I not be happy? I had everything a woman could want and more. Although I hadn't seen much of Drew since Saturday, I was still elated from being with him two nights in a row. Friday night had been wonderful, but Saturday night exceeded all expectations because he introduced me to new things during sex. I wasn't sure where he'd learned it all, and I didn't dare ask, but I was thrilled when he showed me how to get into different positions and role play. I’d admit that it was odd at first, but by the end of the night, I felt I had it down to a science, and I was sure that he left my house a very happy man. What more could I ask for?

  Class started promptly at ten am, and when I looked around and didn't see Drew, I became a little worried. He was always in class, especially since this Anthropology was a requirement for his major. I could have taken it or left it, but he loved Professor Haddish's lectures. Opening up my book, I took one last look around the large room wondering if maybe he'd sat somewhere else. He wasn't anywhere to be found and neither was Clayton. I took out my phone and texted him.

  >>Hey, you're late for class. Everything okay?

  I waited a few minutes and no response. By the time Haddish got up to begin his lecture, I was starting to panic.

  Scribbling on my notebook while he talked, it was hard to concentrate on anything that Haddish was saying. His normally boring voice was extremely drab today as he seemed to drone on forever. Glancing at my watch, I knew I had to get out of there and go find Drew. I gathered up my things and slipped out of the back door as quietly as I could.

  Standing in the hall, I sent him one last text.

  >>Hey, I just left class. Where are you? I'm worried.

  I stood there for a minute to give him a chance to answer but again, nothing. Suddenly, I heard a loud voice yelling down the hall.

  “What in the world...” I said as I walked toward the commons area.

  “Come on, man!”

  It was Clayton's voice I heard echoing off of the large marble columns throughout the long hall.

  “Fuck you, Clayton!” I heard Drew scream out.

  Oh my God! What was going on?

  I flung my backpack over my shoulder and ran as fast as I could toward the voices. Stopping just shy of the large open room, I hid by one of the glass trophy cases where tons of rugby medals and jerseys had been stored for years.

  “Just tell me, bro, are you just fucking around with her or have you fallen in love?” Clayton asked with a nasty smirk on his face.

  “Mind your fucking business!” Drew shoved Clayton backward, his face red with fury.

  “Tell me, hell—tell everyone.” Clayton spread his arms wide as he motioned toward the onlookers. “I want to know what you're doing with that bloody, no good, piece of trash, pauper who has nothing!”

  Drew stepped closer to him with a look of pure hatred on his face. Hearing Clayton call me those names, it was as if I could suddenly feel every emotion that Drew was feeling.

  I normally didn't allow things like that to hurt me, but listening to someone say it to the guy I loved was hurtful. I watched as his hand formed a fist and began to twitch, and I knew that if Clayton said one more word, Drew was going to hit him. I wanted to rush in and stop it, but I couldn't. It would only make things worse for Drew.

  There he was, fighting with his best friend, and they were fighting because of me. I felt sad, hurt, and defeated. I wanted to run away as fast as I could, just get away from all of the nonsense, all the whispers circulating the commons area. All the ‘Who’s Prince Drew seeing?’ or ‘Who’s the girl?’ The scoffed reactions when they heard he was in love with a simple girl instead of an elitist.

  My head and my heart were in a battle as steeped in raw emotion as Clayton and Drew were.

  “Clayton, I’ll be damned if I allow you to talk about her that way. I don’t care if you like or her not; keep your opinion to yourself. I will not stand for you treating her this way.”

  “She’s fuckin’ filth!” Clayton spewed. “I promise you, if you even mention her to me one more time, or if I hear that you are seeing her, I will make your life a living hell!!”

  Clayton was making some serious threats. Why would he treat his best friend that way? I couldn't understand it at all, but I knew what I had to do at that moment. I had to leave Drew alone if he was to see any peace whatsoever. I didn't want his name dragged through the mud because of his association with me.

  I peeked around the corner one last time to see them nose to nose with Professor Teagan trying to push his way between them. My heart sank at the prospect of Drew being hurt by his so-called friend just for loving me.

  On the drive home I cried so many tears that I used up the entire pack of tissues in my purse. I felt as if I was dying inside knowing what was to come. I had to stop seeing Drew for his own protection. My heart broke at the thought of not being with him anymore, but it was the only way that he could be happy and go back to life as usual. That way, he could find someone who would be more socially acceptable for him.

  I cried well into the night before my body finally gave up from exhaustion, and I fell asleep. Turning off my cell phone allowed me to th
ink things over without being interrupted by anyone, especially Drew. I wasn't ready to face him or tell him that things weren't going to work out as either of us had planned. I wasn't completely sure that I would even be able to do it, but I was certain that I had to do it … for his sake.

  The morning sun was bright as I rolled over and looked at my clock. It was almost eight, and I had to be at class in less than two hours. Just enough time to shower, eat breakfast, if I could muster up an appetite, and brace myself for my talk with Drew.

  God, why did things have to be so complicated? Why did it matter if we had come from different worlds? I certainly didn't care and neither did he, so why should anyone else?

  I tried to reason with myself but it was no use; I knew what had to be done.

  I turned on my phone to see that Drew had not only texted me twenty-one times, but he'd also left me three voice messages; all of which I didn’t want to read or hear. I dialed into the voicemail anyway and almost cried when I heard what he said.

  >>>Eliza, where are you? I'm worried. I texted you a couple of times and you didn't answer. Please call me back.

  >>>Eliza, is something wrong? Are you upset with me? I have called you three times, and you're not answering. I'm coming over.

  >>>Eliza, why won't you answer the door? I’ve buzzed your flat numerous times. Your car is by the curb, so I know you’re home. What is going on?

  My heart broke when I listened to the messages. I could almost picture his face with his sad eyes. I knew that he was feeling confused by not knowing why I was ignoring him. I had to do it. Did I dare call him back and tell him what was going on? Or should I just see him after class? I wasn't sure what to do.

  I sat at my vanity, pinning up my hair in a loose bun, trying to decide just how to do it, when my eyes caught a glimpse of my red dress hanging on the back of my bedroom door. Tears began to flow from my eyes like a dam that had burst as I looked at it, knowing I would never wear it. Drew and I would never have that date, and I felt devastated by that fact. I jumped up and ran to my bed. Collapsing on it, I sobbed until I had nothing left. My heart was breaking, and I didn't know how to make it stop.

  “Why does it matter that I am a commoner? Why should class outweigh love?” I asked myself as I cried even harder.

  My heart felt as if it was in a million pieces. I was no better at the moment than I had been the night before; actually, I was worse off just because I had heard his voice as he pleaded with me to talk to him.

  I thought about how he had said that he had been outside of my flat buzzing, but I wouldn’t answer.

  “Wait, when was that? I don't remember hearing the buzzer,” I said as I tried to figure out when he had come over.

  Although I knew it would hurt me to look at the phone and see his texts again, I swiped the screen and saw that he had left that message at 12:49 in the morning. I must have already fallen asleep from exhaustion and heartache. I didn't remember hearing anything. If I had heard him, I probably would have opened the door against my better judgment.

  Why was I doing this anyway? Drew loved me. He wanted to be with me, and I wanted to be with him. What did anyone else's opinion matter?

  I wiped my face and perked up a little. This was our lives, to live as we pleased, and no one else had anything to do with it. If we wanted to be together, then damn it we were going to be together!

  I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my backpack and keys, and sped toward school. I was growing more excited by the minute at the thought of making things right with him. My plan was that I would find Drew, explain to him what had happened, apologize for not answering and then kiss him to make it all better. I knew in my heart that he would be relieved, and I felt as if I was finally seeing the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.

  I shoved my gear shift into park and ran inside the building with fifteen minutes to spare before class. My eyes scanned the room, only to find that Drew wasn’t in his usual seat—he was sitting next to Poppy. I started toward him but stopped because I wasn't sure that we were talking yet in front of others. Poppy giggled as she ran her fingers slowly down his arm in a flirting manner and tilted her head sideways. What could he be telling her that would cause her to blush and tussle her hair?

  My heart sank as he smiled back at her and reached out for her hand. My head was suddenly spinning, and I felt faint. I had to get out of there. Without looking behind me, I backed up into a desk causing it to move a couple of feet. The very loud screeching noise it made caused everyone to look in my direction, even Poppy and Drew.

  I saw the look of pain on his face as he looked into my eyes, and I didn't know what to say. I glanced at Poppy and saw the sneer that she wore so well. It was a look of “I am better than you; why are you even here?” I knew in that moment, somehow in my gut, that I truly was out of my element. Clayton had been right about everything that he'd said. I didn't fit in with them at that school. I didn't run in their circles, and I wasn't socially acceptable. I was the odd duck in a room full of graceful swans.

  I turned quickly and ran out as fast as I my feet would carry me. I jumped into my car and flew home faster than I had ever driven before. The humiliation I felt was more than I could bear, and I didn't want anyone else to see me in pain. There was no way I was going to allow them to revel in the fact that I wasn't in their league. I wanted no part of their “party” while they made fun of me.

  “Drew can just go ahead with Poppy; she is more his type anyway. She was made for the royal life. I wasn't,” I said as if I was explaining to him and not just talking to myself. I was trying my best to convince myself that I was okay with it all, when in reality, I wasn't. I was hurting more than I had ever hurt before; more than I ever knew was possible. This was a broken heart, and there was nothing I could do about it. It was my first, and I hoped it would be my last.

  After climbing the stairs and going inside, I locked my door, tossed my backpack in the chair, and practically threw myself onto the couch. As I lay there crying harder by the minute, I could actually feel an ache in my chest. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before, and I never wanted to feel that way again.

  “Oh, Mum, I wish I could talk to you about this,” I said when I glanced at the picture of us on my table.

  Maybe I could call her and just talk about life in general. Maybe that would help me. I picked up my cell phone and dialed her.

  “Hello,” her soft voice answered. I felt a little better already just knowing that she was there when I needed her.

  “Hi, Mum,” I said, trying my best to sound as if I had not just been crying. She would be able to tell the moment I spoke, though, because my nose was stuffy.

  “Honey, what's wrong?” My mum knew me inside and out; there was nothing I could hide from her.

  “Oh, Mum, why do you ask that? Can't I just call you and talk without something being wrong?”

  I was trying my best, but it was going to be a losing battle.

  “Well, first of all, you should be in class,” she said.

  Damn! I skipped class and hadn't thought about her knowing that I had.

  “Oh, well, Professor Haddish turned us out early today because he had an emergency at home,” I lied to her.

  “Oh? I hope it's nothing serious,” she said, trying to play along with my made-up story. I never was good at hiding things from my mother. She always knew when I was tired, hungry, or happy just by looking at me. But now, she knew just by hearing my voice.

  “I don't know. I guess we'll find out next time.”

  I wasn't sure what I would say to her, but I wanted her to take the pain away somehow. I needed my mother to say something to me that would stop my heart from breaking. If only I could confide in her. She had always been my best friend, but now, when I needed her the most, I couldn't tell her the one thing that was hurting me the worst.

  “How's school going?” she asked to my relief.

  “It's great. I'm doing really well in all my classes. I have the highest gra
des possible, and I'm fairly certain that I'll make the Chancellor's Honor List for this semester.”

  I loved talking about my grades because school was truly where my heart was. My education had always been extremely important to me, and it was the one area in my life where I was in control of what was happening. I had made up my mind at a very young age that I was going to get the best education I could afford and then have a career where I could support myself and respect myself when I looked in the mirror. I wasn’t going to do what my father did and profit from other people's pain.

  “Oh, Eliza, that's wonderful. Let me get your father; he'll be so happy!”

  “No, Mum, you can tell him later.”

  There was no way that I wanted Dad on the phone, especially now.

  “Ollie, pick up the extension, Eliza has great news,” I heard her yell to him, a bit too loudly.

  “Mum, please,” I managed before I heard my dad's voice.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” he said.

  “Hey Dad,” I said, trying to change my voice a tad to cover my stuffy nose.

  “So, how are things in your life?”

  Oh, God, I had to tread the waters gently. “It's all good. I was just telling Mum that I will probably be making the Chancellor's Honor List this semester.”

  “Eliza, that's wonderful,” my father said in his Cockney accent.

  My father was proud of his accent, but I had hated it when I was growing up. I tried my best to lose it as early as possible because I wanted to sound more sophisticated and well-bred. My dad used to tease me about my lack of enthusiasm over our dialect. “Eliza,” he would say when I would practice another accent. “You must be proud to speak as we do. We have the accent of the working class.”

  I never saw it the way he did. Quite the opposite, I always thought it was the accent of the less educated and uncultured. I tried not to tell him that because he would never understand how I felt about it, and it would have hurt his feelings. My father considered being working class a wonderful thing. He always told my sister and me that every job was a real job when you could provide for yourself and your family. In my mind, his job was the bottom of the dung heap.