Shame of Thrones

by Jenny Gardiner

  “Yup and this is what I wear to fix breakfast there, so it works just fine for me.”

  Clementine thought back to that first night on The Royal Blue when they prepared supper for Pippa and Topher, who were busy playing mating games or whatever it was they were up to. Lord only knows, but look at the outcome. Who’d have thought?

  Clementine had cracked eggs into a bowl and was mixing them up, having decided she was going for Tex-Mex omelets instead of a more authentic version of huevos rancheros. She’d found a whisk in the drawer by the stove and was leaning her hips against the kitchen counter when Sebastian came up behind her.

  “Allow me,” he said, placing his hand over hers as she whisked the eggs. He pressed his warm body up against her soft bottom, just enough so that she could feel him right there, not very far off from where she really wished he was in her ideal world. “It all comes down to hand motion,” he said softly into her ear.

  For a minute, they stood there, his hand guiding hers as they stirred, her breathing seemingly frozen.

  Clementine couldn’t decide whether to just turn around and go at it with the man or stand her ground and feign indifference. Not that she wanted to be an ice queen, but she wasn’t prepared to reverse course with Sebastian. He hadn’t given her any reason to. Any hot guy could sweet-talk you, especially in low-slung boxers that only served to emphasize his complete and total hotness. That man, with his rock-hard abs and that suntanned torso and his muscular legs and, oh, stop it, Clem.

  Clementine scooched her way out of his sphere of influence and toward the stovetop, feeling an immediate loss of his warmth and yeah, that lovely little symbol of his affection that had been tucked so neatly up against her.

  “How do you like your omelets?”

  “How about over easy, with an emphasis on easy?”

  “You don’t give up easily, do you?” she said as she flipped the first omelet onto a plate and handed it to Sebastian. “Now take this and go eat your breakfast.”

  ~*~

  With breakfast out of the way, they put on their ski gear and took to the slopes. They learned from the lift operator that at least a foot of fresh powder had fallen overnight.

  After their first run, they high-fived each other.

  “Whoo-hoo!” Sebastian said. “Back in the States in Colorado they call this champagne powder. Never seen it so perfect up here.”

  “That was an amazing run,” she said. “I could get used to skiing under these conditions.”

  Sebastian thought he could get used to skiing under those conditions as well, provided it included her.

  Clementine was comfortable skiing fairly challenging intermediate slopes, but by early afternoon Sebastian had talked her into the black diamond ones. On the first run he stuck close by her to ensure she felt comfortable; soon she was commanding her own as they crisscrossed the moguls and navigated their way down the steep hills.

  “That was a blast, but I’m wiped out,” Clem said after about their tenth run. “Let’s go back and soak our bones in the hot tub for a while.”

  Which was fine with Sebastian. His plan? Warm her up and hope for the best.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Sebastian joined Clem outside in the hot tub, which was perched on the front deck overlooking the nearby ski runs, the burnished late-day sun gilding the gorgeous Matterhorn far off in the distance.

  Clementine was leaning over the edge, engrossed in her book, and didn’t even notice when Sebastian arrived.

  He brought with him two flutes and a chilled bottle of champagne.

  “The only way to finish a day on the slopes,” he said, tipping his glass to hers. “To renewed friendships.”

  “And conniving friends,” she said with a smile. “Nice swimsuit, by the way.” She nodded at his boxer briefs that were doing business as bathing trunks.

  “What can I say? My packing skills are lacking.”

  “Pippa’s hot tub is the best,” she said, taking a long, slow sip of her drink. “If I failed to pack anything else, I would never forget to bring my bikini.”

  “Thank Christ for that,” he said, joking. “Although I’d have been luckier had you forgotten, come to think of it.”

  She shook her head, resisting his charms, and turned her attention back to her book.

  “Whatcha reading?” he said.

  “A book someone said I’d like,” she said. “Only I’m not so sure I’m enjoying it. Too much sadness in it.”

  “You like happy endings?”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid I do. Perhaps a little simplistic, but life has enough traumatic things in it, so I don’t really want to add to it with the novels I read, you know? I want to escape to positive things.”

  It was his turn to nod. “That’s fair enough.” He scooted closer to her and peered at the book before closing the pages. “How about I tell you a story?”

  “Does it have a happy ending?”

  “Ending’s not written yet,” he said. “We could write it happy maybe. Let’s see what you think.”

  He reached out to her arm and pulled gently. “Come sit in my lap and we’ll begin.”

  Clementine hesitated, but the champagne was kicking in just enough for her to agree. Apparently, all it took was a drink and she became putty in the man’s hands. Sebastian stretched his legs across the bench of the hot tub and pulled her on top of him, her bottom nestled up to his front, her legs extended on top of his.

  “Okay, lean back so your head is on my shoulder, and then we can start.”

  She should have felt vulnerable like that, but somehow she just felt at home.

  He stroked her hair with one hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, securing her in place.

  “Once upon a time, there was a little prince,” he said in a quiet voice, “who lived in a vast palace. By all outward appearances, he lived in a perfect world, with all the riches he could imagine.” He paused to take a sip of champagne, offering a sip of his to Clementine, before resuming.

  “But the little boy was sad. His mother and father could not get along, and their loud fights would rock the palace walls. He pleaded with them to be at peace, but they were unable to accede to his wishes. Finally, one day, his father moved away. Gone were the fights, but all that was left was a sad little prince and his mother, the princess, who took to her room to cry in the dark.”

  “So far this is not a very happy story,” Clementine said. “I hope it gets better. Or at least has an ogre or troll to conquer.”

  “Have faith, little one,” he said, scratching her head, and then he continued. “But over the years, his father would return, and his mother would be happy, and life was supposed to be perfect for everyone. He even got a new brother and sister. But eventually his father would leave again, and a new man would try to take over as man of the house.

  “Eventually, the boy grew apart from his family. He learned it was much easier to be on his own, to not have to commit to his mother or father, but instead, he could live his life as if they didn’t matter.”

  “How’d that work out?” Clem said.

  “The prince was quite content in his world, sailing the seas at his leisure, not having to answer to anyone, able to come and go as he pleased. Until one day he met a beautiful young, well, let’s call her a princess as well.”

  “Lady works fine.”

  “I prefer sticking to the storybook guidelines, thanks.”

  “It’s your story.”

  “The prince and the princess hit it off, well, royally,” he said. “In fact, never in his life had he been so intoxicated with a woman before. She was smart and athletic and beautiful and kind, all traits he didn’t know would be so important to him.”

  “She sounds like quite the catch,” Clem said, by now gently swirling the tips of her fingers along the hair on Sebastian’s arm, pulling his arm tighter to her.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” he said. “But back to the story. Just when things were heating up between the princ
e and his princess, the prince got cold feet. And who could blame him, what with his parents’ track record and all? They, too, had started out madly in love and look where that had gotten them: a trail of broken hearts in their wake.”

  “I hope the prince learns a lesson along the way. Like, don’t take lovely princesses for granted.”

  “In good time,” he said, splaying his hand across Clementine’s stomach possessively. “So the prince sent the princess on her way, or maybe the princess dumped him. Hard to say. But the end result was the same: despite their being well suited for one another, they instead were torn asunder. Which was fine enough, at least for the prince. Or so he thought. But the longer he was away from his princess, the more he missed her smiling face and her wonderful wit and maybe even the taste of rum along her torso.”

  Clementine smiled and reached behind her to loosely wrap her arm around his neck, which gave him greater access to nuzzle her neck.

  “I don’t remember there being a part that involved alcohol and body shots in this fairy tale,” she said.

  “What’s a fairy tale without a couple of body shots?” he said. “As I was saying...things happened. The prince was called home, not for a disaster, as he’d expected, but rather for what would turn out to be wonderful news. His whimsical mother and tempestuous father had a meeting of the minds. And hearts. And after so many years of indecision about the very nature of their true commitment, they decided they would finally show the world that they were meant for one another.

  “And then on top of that, the prince nearly lost his dear friend to a deadly attack by a man-eating snail.”

  Clementine laughed. “Man-eating? That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Well, if he could have he would have.”

  “That snail was probably very disappointed he got no dinner that evening.”

  “My heart doesn’t bleed for him. But back to the story. So the prince realizes the error of his ways, but he also realizes that he scared the princess with his callousness. She interpreted his shunning her as an indictment of her, when that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Rather, it was that he wasn’t prepared to be in a serious relationship until he could figure out a whole lot of things and tackle issues from his past that had been nagging him, even though he hadn’t exactly realized it.”

  “And so did he tackle them?”

  “Put it this way, the drawbridge has been lowered on the moat so the princess can safely cross into the palace now.”

  “And not get eaten by crocodiles?”

  “I was gonna say ogres or trolls, but you can choose African animals if you’d rather.”

  “So is there a moral to this story, then?” Clementine said.

  “Of course there is,” he said, leaning forward a little and pulling her face toward his. “I don’t want to wait until I’m graying around the temples like my father to decide this is what I want, Clem. I know it already. It’s you. From the moment you stepped onto my boat, I just knew there was something about you that was special. Something that called to me in a way no one had before. I know I failed you back when you were sailing with me. But would you consider giving me another chance? I promise I can right the ship and we’ll be on a course toward calm waters.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Clem giggled at the sailing metaphor. “You’re quite the storyteller, Sebastian. You’re sure you weren’t just telling me tall tales so that you could have your wicked way with me?”

  He arched his brow. “So you’re telling me I could’ve had my wicked way with you if only I’d have told you a tall tale? In that case—”

  “Shut up and kiss me already,” Clem said, moaning loudly as her mouth found his and their tongues finally tangled. Sebastian took advantage of his position to work his hand toward Clementine’s bikini bottoms.

  “I bet you thought I didn’t recognize this suit,” he said. “But you’re wrong. The minute I saw that top on you I knew I had to figure out a way to get that off, pronto.”

  “Well then what’re you wasting time for?” she said as he reached behind her neck to untie her bikini and pull the top down.

  “There, that’s much better,” he said as one hand played with her exposed breasts, while the other slipped beneath her bottoms, only to find her slick with desire.

  Sebastian groaned. “You’re trying to kill me, you know.”

  “I can’t help it,” she said. “You tell a hot story like that, how do you think my body’s going to respond?”

  “I hope it’s going to respond with a loud moan and your body convulsing on my hand as I bring you to climax.”

  “Your wish is my command, your Highness.”

  “In that case, I have an idea,” he said, standing so that he was hip-deep in the hot tub. He pointed to the edge of the tub. “You lay down here. And I”—he reached for the bottle of champagne—“go for the reenactment of our first date.”

  Clementine laughed. “That was a date, was it?”

  He nodded. “Of course it was. It had all the elements of a date: for starters, I picked you up.”

  “Um, for clarification’s sake, I was already on the boat. There was no place from which to pick me up.”

  “Irrelevant details. But I gave you a ride,” he said. “And we had a meal and drinks and plenty of entertainment.” He cocked his eyebrow.

  “Oh, boy, did we have entertainment,” she said. “By the way, how come I never heard from you after Zander’s phone got hacked?”

  “Are you serious? I tried calling you for hours, but it kept going to voice mail. And after that we were without Internet, and after that, well, everything went to shit with Topher and all.”

  Clementine blushed.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot my brother got angry and threw my phone when all of that unfolded. Knowing Eduoardo, he deleted all signs of your having communicated with me.”

  “You survive that whole thing okay?”

  “Nothing quite like having your friends look at you like they know what you know that they know that you don’t want them to know.”

  “Yeah, that.”

  “But it’s over. I’ve moved on. And I’ve learned to be more discreet in the future.”

  “Does the deck of a private home count as careful enough for you?” he said, leaning over and stroking his tongue against her lips until she opened them and welcomed his tongue with her own.

  She nodded vigorously and pulled back for a moment. “And if you don’t get a move on,” she whispered, “I’ll have to find a more reliable cabana boy to perform this task.”

  “Is that a promise or a threat?” His breath tickled her neck.

  “Give me that bottle,” she said as she grabbed it from his hands and started to drizzle it across her belly, then squealed because it was cold. “Hurry! Warm me up. This is nowhere near the same temperature as last time we did this.”

  It didn’t take long for Sebastian to find his groove, and his soothing tongue and warm breath trailing against her body felt especially incredible with the contrasting cold outside temperature. With her top already down, he went right to her breasts, dripping more liquid, and her nipples stood at attention and saluted him. He lazily drew his tongue along one and then the other, circling them, teasing them, before he moved on, licking her as he moved down along the length of her body. This time, when he reached her bikini bottom, his teeth fastened on the strings and pulled hard.

  Sebastian glanced at Clem’s flushed face, locked eyes with her, and smiled as he grabbed the bottle and poured some more on her waiting body. And then his tongue was there, right where she needed him most and she wove her fingers through his hair as she guided him just where she wanted him.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Clementine thought she’d died and gone to heaven, lying on the edge of a hot tub in the middle of the Alps with Sebastian—her Sebastian—right back where he belonged. She spread her legs to give him access as he moved his talented mouth along her swollen cent
er. Finally, she pulled him toward her.

  “I need you, now,” she said, pointing at him and pulling him so he climbed out of the hot tub. “Inside, where it’s warm and the only thing wet is right where you need it to be.”

  She reached for one of the fluffy robes Pippa kept by the hot tub and pulled it over her chilled flesh. She wrapped the robe close to her skin for warmth then buried one of her hands in the pockets as she helped Sebastian with his robe.

  “Oh, my God,” she said. “That Pippa.”

  She held out her hand and there in her palm was a string of condoms.

  Sebastian reached into his pockets and pulled out a strip as well.

  “You gotta give her credit for preparedness,” he said.

  “And optimism.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d say I’m the one with the undying optimism,” Sebastian said as he slid his hands inside her robe. “Like I feel very optimistic that any minute now I’m going to be buried deep inside of you, but only if I can persuade you to follow me.”

  ~*~

  They barely made it to Clementine’s huge cloud of feathers before Sebastian had her pinned to the bed, protection rolled on, and was nudging her legs apart with his knees.

  “So about that fairy tale ending,” he said as he planted kisses along her jawline and across her throat and anywhere he could get his mouth.

  “What about it?” she said, her hands reaching for him to help guide him into her.

  “Does my story end in a satisfactory manner for you?” he said as he slid inside of her warmth and their bodies stilled, savoring the moment.

  “Well, there weren’t any ogres,” she said. “And not a troll to be found for that matter. But the prince, well, as long as he can—oh, yes, right there—keep this princess satisfied, I think they’ll definitely live happily ever after.”