Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1)

by Sidney Bristol

  Too bad Taylor had never been normal.

  “I’m actually glad to run into you again. Was beginin’ to think you were a ghost or somethin’.” He peered at her, the star light fading as the rain clouds settled in. “Then again, I always have had an active imagination.”

  Dear God, did he ever.

  Taylor swallowed. She could still remember his breath against her ear, his lips brushing her lobe as he spoke, imparting to her all manner of thoughts. In his defense, she’d asked what he was thinking when he looked at her like that. Like he was now. With fire in his eyes and his hand on her thigh.

  She swallowed and glanced away, grateful for the cool evening breeze.

  “Taylor.” He reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear. “You can trust me.”

  But he couldn’t trust her. He wasn’t the problem in this equation. She was. And she couldn’t keep on going it alone. Which meant she was going to hate herself tomorrow for what she had to do. She needed a week, two at most, to line something up, somewhere for her to run to. And that meant keeping Ian distracted.

  She tipped her chin up. His eyes were so pale, so blue they pierced the darkness.

  “I want to trust you. I do. It’s just...” She ripped a blade of grass from the earth and began shredding it. As soon as puberty hit, Taylor’s mother had given her an advanced education in saving her own neck. The harsh reality was that her best weapon was often herself. She’d never had to do this, at least not with intent.

  Ian covered her hand with his.

  “You can tell me when you’re ready,” he said. “I keep thinkin’ about you.”

  “Oh...”

  “I want to kiss you again.” He tugged her closer.

  “Now?”

  “And later, if you’ll let me.”

  Taylor swallowed. She knew what kissing him led to. He’d practically stuck his tongue down her throat in the middle of a crowded bar, and she hadn’t cared at all. With him, a kiss wasn’t a kiss. It was more than flesh on flesh. It was...the way he kissed.

  Lust, guilt, fear, it all swirled together into a confusing concoction.

  She wanted to feel desired, and pleasure like he’d given her that night after flirting at the bar, she wanted to lose herself in that. Any woman would. But at what cost? Another piece of her soul? Prolonging her life a couple of weeks?

  Ian slid his other hand up the back of her neck.

  Her toes curled into the grass.

  She remembered this touch.

  He pushed his fingers through her hair, grasping close to her scalp. It wasn’t painful, but it was possessive. She’d never liked dominant guys before, but Ian was different. He gave as much as he took, and she had hours of experience to back it up.

  Who was seducing who here?

  Ian leaned in, his lips grazing her shoulder, up her neck.

  She swallowed and let her eyes drift closed.

  Out here in the yard, under the cover of night, there was some privacy.

  Taylor had to keep a tight grip on her life, everything had to be controlled, but this? With Ian? In this one thing, she could let him lead. Screw intent. Screw plans. Right now, she wanted this man to kiss her.

  She turned her face toward his, pulling against the hold on her neck. He continued to lavish kisses along her shoulder and up her neck, in no hurry to actually kiss her.

  “No, puppy,” he muttered. He let go of her hand long enough to nudge one of the miniature bulldogs off his shoe.

  She chuckled and ushered the two trying to play in her lap off a little ways.

  “You’re too far away. Come here.” Ian reached over and wrapped his arms around her waist. He dragged her almost into his lap.

  Taylor cupped his face and kissed him, too eager to wait. He fisted her hair and pressed closer. There was no hesitancy in his touch, the way he kissed. But even that was different. He wasn’t selfish, and that—that was new. He didn’t grope her, he didn’t try to manhandle her. He teased. He caressed.

  One of the puppies nibbled on her shirt, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting closer to Ian. Drinking him in. Reveling in this momentary respite.

  Her whole life, she’d been a status symbol. To Ian, she was just the woman he’d chosen, for however long this lasted. Right here and now, she could be that girl. The normal one, who could kiss the guy she liked. It could be that simple. For now. Until it wasn’t, and then hopefully she’d be on her way to Canada or Mexico.

  The blood pounded in her veins so hard it seemed to rumble in her ears.

  Or...wait. Was that thunder?

  Little droplets of water peppered her face.

  Ian sat back, and she swiped at her brow.

  Shit. She’d totally forgotten the weather blowing in. There went those pretty, sunny days.

  The skies opened up, dumping buckets of water on them.

  Taylor screeched and pushed to her feet. She snatched up the two closest puppies.

  Ian reached for her, grasping her by the elbow.

  “The puppies!” She laughed at the one trying to burrow its little face in her chest.

  “God damn it.” Ian ducked and they both groped in the grass for the other five.

  She found a third trying to squeeze his little body under the water bowl and Ian almost tripped over the rest huddled around a sprinkler head.

  They scooped up the shivering dogs and bolted for the garage. Taylor couldn’t stop laughing at the absurdity of it all. The rain. The kiss. The puppies. Her life was a mess, but at least she was still living it.

  Ian had to concentrate on not dropping the squirming, slippery bodies. His jeans were soaked. His shoes were soaked. He might as well have just jumped in a cold lake, but his dick wasn’t getting the drift. The damn thing was pressed up against his zipper, every step across the garage near agony.

  “Here. Give them to me.” Taylor just kept snickering. She had a towel, and one by one, she rubbed the pups dry, and placed them in their corral.

  They’d gone from lovers to conflict to whatever this was now so fast he was having problems seeing past what he wanted. Some part of him wanted to protect Taylor from whatever demons she was running from, even if that meant trouble for him. He’d handled enough bad guys in his life to take on one more. Especially for her.

  His gut said Taylor was a good person.

  It hadn’t often been wrong.

  She put the last puppy into the pen and swept her long, dark hair up off her shoulders.

  Water slicked her T-shirt to her body. Her jeans hung from her hips, dangerously close to just sliding off.

  He still remembered that dress she’d worn, how those buttons, from her knee all the way up to her breasts, had driven him crazy. The first thing he’d done when they were alone was to lay her down and unbutton each and every one of them. He’d never opened a better present in his life.

  Taylor’s gaze snagged on his. Her smile cooled, and she froze.

  He’d never had a woman leave his bed before. Maybe that was the difference, what’d kept him hooked on the thought of her. When he parted ways with a lover, he made sure they were smiling when they said his name. Taylor had left him, and what was worse, he’d known there was more to her. For once, he couldn’t let go of a woman, so why fight it? Why shouldn’t he trust his gut?

  Ian took one step and then another toward Taylor. She didn’t move, didn’t run from him.

  Rain pounded against the roof, drowning out all the sounds from the house.

  She lifted a hand, planting it against his chest, holding him back.

  Her gaze seemed to map his shoulders. She didn’t look at his face, just his body. Remembering how well they fit?

  “There’s a camera over your shoulder to your right,” she said softly.

  Fuck.

  He’d let himself get focused on her and lost sight of where they were. This wasn’t his apartment, and they weren’t free here. Her boss kept eyes on everything and everyone.

  “Sorry,�
�� he mumbled.

  “Me, too.” She patted his chest.

  “It’s getting late. Why don’t you head to bed, and I’ll...clean up?” Ian doubted his ability to walk away from her right now.

  “Puppies will be fine ‘til morning. Sleep tight.” Taylor drifted past him, her palm sliding across his ribs and down his side.

  He listened to her footsteps, barely discernible thumps on the concrete growing fainter.

  Ian needed to cool his head, to remember why he was here. And oh, right, inform Zain he’d accepted the gig. That was going to be a fun conversation.

  He pulled his cell phone out, glad to see the waterproof case had done its job. He hit dial and stared out the window into the yard. The call went to voicemail, which shouldn’t have surprised Ian. Part of the reason Zain had taken over their new Seattle office was so he could get hitched to his long-distance girlfriend. Chances were, they had wedding shit to do.

  “Hey, Zain. In case you haven’t seen the paperwork yet, I’m extendin’ my gig here for two weeks. I’ll call an’ give you the sit rep tomorrow. Later.”

  Ian pocketed his phone. He’d really like to get out of these wet clothes, but with the house quiet, it was an ideal time to do a walkthrough without being guided by George’s people. He doubted George Wachtel would leave evidence of his shady dealings out in the open, but there could be clues.

  He made a pass through all of the first-floor rooms, save the security office and George’s office. One was occupied, and the other locked up tight. Ian didn’t want to make small talk with the security staff, and rummaging through George’s desk was bound to create questions. The basement was still locked, which had him wondering what the hell was down there? Chances were, nothing he was supposed to know about. He’d have to make a point of getting down there when no one was looking. Maybe during one of George’s evenings out.

  His circuit made, Ian climbed to the second-floor guest room Taylor had shown him earlier. Ian hadn’t spent more time than was necessary to toss his bags on the bed and head out once more. He’d spied her in the grass when he’d pulled up and needed to go to her. To talk to her. To see her. As if that would give him any sort of idea about what was going on, the trouble she was running from.

  There was no doubt Taylor was running from something. He wanted to save her, to protect her, even if that meant shielding her from himself. He had a lot to sort through and his thoughts were fucked. Those little noises she’d made, the way she’d gripped him...

  Ian blinked at his bedroom door.

  It was cracked.

  A tiny bit.

  Just barely open.

  He’d left it shut and locked.

  Ian reached for a weapon at his hip that wasn’t there.

  He flattened his back to the wall and edged closer.

  He’d just assumed a clash with someone else trying to cover their ass in the house would take longer. His best bet was the security guys. Their records were violent and long enough to speak to a pattern of behavior that wasn’t going to be broken soon.

  Ian nudged the door, letting it swing open. He held back, not daring to breathe.

  Darkness swaddled the room, save for the bedside lamp that was on.

  “Hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

  Holy shit...

  Ian stepped in and closed the door, flipping the flimsy lock.

  Taylor sat in the middle of the big bed, the covers up under her arms. Shoulders bare. He was staring, and he knew it, but...fuck.

  “There aren’t cameras in the bedrooms,” she said.

  For which he was very glad right now.

  “Are you...naked?”

  “Maybe?”

  Ian took three steps, grasped the comforter, and yanked. Taylor gasped and curled one arm over her breasts.

  Whatever reservations he’d had about what was happening between them were gone. At least for the next couple of hours.

  He leaned toward her, catching her chin with his finger and tipping her face up.

  Tonight, here, now...she was his.

  5.

  Taylor groaned against Ian’s mouth. He teased her lips with his teeth, but didn’t touch her. She grabbed a handful of his T-shirt, water dripping between her fingers, and pulled him closer.

  Ian wrapped his hand around her wrist and stood, gently pushing her away. He straightened, those same eyes locked on her.

  The way he stared made a difference. Like she mattered.

  She’d been a means to an end for so long, the idea that a man might want her for, well, just her, was new. Intoxicating. Was that why she’d stayed so long last time? It was sure as hell one of the reasons she was here now. She didn’t make a habit of picking locks to men’s rooms, just his.

  Ian grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled the thin material up over his head. He took a few steps back and tossed the garment into the bathroom. It splatted on the tile floor.

  She chuckled.

  She’d used his shower rod to hang hers up.

  Taylor curled up on her side, content to watch him wrestle with the waterlogged jeans.

  “What were you? Army? Cop?” she asked.

  “Military detective assigned to the UN. Fuck.” He growled curses, his fingers slipping over the belt.

  Ian wasn’t what she’d expected.

  Oh, if her Italian family knew she’d gone home with an Irish lawman, they’d no doubt lose their minds. Maybe that was part of his allure? Not only had she broken with the family and left, but here she was, with one of the enemy. Then again, her father had seen everyone as an adversary.

  Ian’s arms flexed as he worked the tab to his jeans open. The colorful tattoos swirling over his shoulders, biceps, and down his arms stood out against his fair skin. She’d traced his freckles and inked lines with her tongue and remembered the taste of him. The way his muscles bunched and moved under her palms. But it was how he focused on her, the way his gaze bored into hers, that made all the difference.

  What did he see when he looked at her?

  He didn’t know her whole story. Yet.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “Finally!”

  He wrestled his jeans down his hips and toed out of his boots. His pants barely made it through the door.

  “Now, don’t laugh. It’s cold.” He wagged a finger at her.

  Taylor snickered.

  “I said don’t laugh.” Ian crossed to the bed, still pointing his finger at her. The smile curling his lips upward ruined the sternness of his voice.

  “I can warm you up.” She reached for him, wrapping her hand around his finger and tugged.

  “How kind of ya.” His smile widened to a grin, a devilish glint in his eyes. What was he up to?

  Ian crawled onto the bed, flipping the covers up and over them. His skin was cool and a bit clammy to the touch, but she didn’t care. Not enough to kick him out of bed at least. His body pressed hers into the mattress, his mouth covering hers. She stroked her hands down his back and sides, reacquainting herself with his body.

  If she died tomorrow, she wanted this, tonight. To feel wanted, desired, like she was, however briefly, the center of this man’s world. Reality was a brawling bitch with brass knuckles. Taylor couldn’t hide from her forever, but for now, she wanted the fantasy.

  Ian grasped her by the hair. Her body tensed, instinct warring with lust. His lips found the pulse spot behind her jaw. She gripped his shoulders and groaned, her body relaxing under his touch.

  His lips made love to her. Gentle caresses. Teasing.

  “Where were we, hm?” He pushed up, his gaze studying her.

  “Warming you up.” She flattened her palms against his chest and ran them lower, as far as she could reach, which wasn’t far enough.

  “No, before that. When you left durin’ my nap.”

  Oh.

  Then.

  He hadn’t been done?

  She’d figured after one round, they’d pretty much accomplished what they went to his place to do,
but then he’d rolled her over without missing a beat. She’d lost count of how many times and ways he’d been in her. At least, until she’d glimpsed the clock and realized what time it was.

  “Hm.” His gaze trailed down her chest for the first time to her breasts.

  The cool air, and sweet lust had her nipples tightening further. The bit of a beard he’d sported then had tickled her. He’d been scruffier when they met.

  Ian lowered his head to her chest, kissing her collar bone, that little dip at the center of her chest and down her sternum.

  He wasn’t hurried, he didn’t grope her, he...worshiped her body. Every touch, the way he caressed her, it wasn’t just because he wanted it.

  His lips wrapped around her nipple, his tongue flicking the tip. She gasped and shoved her hands into his hair, her back arching. Later. She could mull the differences over tomorrow. Right now, she wanted to lose herself in this. His touch. His kiss. The warmth of him.

  His hand cupped her, a bold, unexpected move. She sucked in a breath, eyes going wide as his fingers pressed into her. His mouth switched breasts, suckling her other nipple while he teased her clit and stroked her folds.

  “Ian.” She tugged his hair, but he ignored her frustrated plea.

  Right. He liked his foreplay.

  Taylor lifted her hips, pressing into his hold, but he only moved with her, giving her just enough to want more and nothing else. She groaned her frustration. The damn man.

  His lips left her breast. He kissed her ribs and stomach.

  She dug her fingers deeper into his hair and tugged, but he didn’t even acknowledge her.

  His tongue delved into her navel. She crawled up the bed—or tried to. Ian braced his forearm across her thighs, holding her in place. He chuckled and kissed lower still.