To Play or Not To Play

by Emily Bow

  I melted and arched into him.

  I found his belt buckle and touched it. I really wanted our clothes off. His. Mine. Skin to skin. Warmth. Motion. And I wanted it now. I needed it now. No more playing. I widened my knees and pressed up.

  “Ah.”

  Wythe strangled out a curse, a gasp.

  I loved it. I was tingling and heated and melted. I ached, and I wanted him closer, but his reactions made me think beyond myself. I glanced my fingertips over the warmth of his waist.

  He pulled back and got rid of his clothes, then quickly returned to me, a condom packet in his hand. I appreciated that he’d taken care of it. He was with me fully on the bed. Warm. Hard. Beautiful.

  He leaned into me, closer.

  He made a move with his hands, touching me intimately. His mouth found mine. The intensity. My mind melted with the rest of my body as he made me ache more than I thought I could. I felt empty.

  I had one goal then—get him even closer. I roamed my hands over the hard muscles of his back. I used my foot to feel his legs, hair dusted, skin rougher than mine. I had a weakness for his muffled sounds, his eyes almost rolling back, his own roaming hands. It distracted me and I gave him more.

  My own actions, and the feel of him intensified my own feelings.

  I needed more and faster, and harder, and now. I bit his bottom lip and pressed my mouth to his. Tongues gliding, imitating what I wanted.

  His chest pressed against mine, and he slid his hand over my back, cupping my backside and squeezing me.

  I grew hotter, wetter, and needier.

  And then his fingers slid around to the front, under the lace of my panties, exploring me. I lost thought.

  The aching was deeper, hollower, more mindless. I embodied need.

  His fingers circled me, slow, then fast.

  I bit his shoulder and liked him. “Wythe.”

  “Kira.” My name sounded husky on his lips, sexy.

  I pulled the lace down myself, kicking out of it, making him chuckle, until I fitted myself against him. Skin to skin.

  He gasped.

  I moaned.

  This new intimacy was wonderful. I slid my legs around his hips and pressed up against his erection, and it was even better. Hitting right where his fingers played.

  I bit my lip and then gasped, making sounds that weren’t words, but that somehow told him what I wanted.

  He slid one hand up, cupping my face, kissing me deeply, and then grabbed my hand, twining our fingers and squeezing. He forced my lips from my teeth and kissed me long and slow and deep, and then moved his free hand down my body. He touched me, dipped his finger in, then removed his hand. He slid into me shallowly. And then, with a deep kiss and a deeper thrust, he was right where I wanted him. I was only capable of one thought. Him. Inside. Me.

  He’d joined me. And it was so perfect that the tears hit my eyes, and my body throbbed, feeling full and stretched and together. Joined with the guy I was in love with. It was unbelievable.

  “Kira.” He said my name in a way that meant he didn’t know he was uttering it. “Kira, love. Kira.” My name, a breath, a groan, a promise. He pulled back and then slid forward. Back and forth.

  I was warm, full, and stretched.

  I needed.

  He gave.

  My tension built.

  He circled me with his fingers as he pressed with his hips.

  Quick. Slow. Quick.

  “Ah.” I arched into him. A wave of release rushed through me, dissolving me. I fell back, and my mind went blissfully, beautifully blank. Empty of thought, worry, the world. Just peace and pulses of pleasure. Euphoria.

  With a quick hard kiss on my almost too-sensitive lips, he followed me, clinging to me.

  He shifted, moved. I was on cool sheets and then he was there beside me, his arms wrapped around me, facing me, holding me, keeping me while I came back together after falling apart.

  “Damn.” He said the word in a reverent way, a shocked way. “That was…”

  He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to; I knew what he meant.

  He brushed a strand of my hair back. “I almost wish I read poetry, so I could describe that for you.”

  “Put it in an equation.” My voice came out husky, sexy. I kissed his shoulder, his warm, hard, beautiful skin. I licked it, bit him with a slight graze of my teeth, and breathed him in. The room, the sheets, him, they were all fragranced with my perfume, his cologne, and sex. A combination of us. Together.

  “There aren’t even numbers.” He traced a sideways eight on my midriff.

  It was infinity. The symbol made my heart clench.

  “This was the longest summer of my life. Best summer of my life. Longest wait to get my hands on you,” he whispered in my ear. “Killed me to wait, but it was worth it. Beyond that.”

  He was almost poetic. Living literature had rubbed off on him. I had rubbed off on him. I tightened my arms around his neck, relishing the feel of him against me, stretching, sliding enough to make his hands wander.

  I loved that.

  ***

  The moonlight turned to daybreak, and we were sweaty, sticky, and mussed, but in the hottest, sweetest way.

  Wythe brushed my hair back. “Stay.”

  He was so gorgeous.

  “I need to go clean up.” My voice was super husky from sleep deprivation. Now I understood why husky voices sounded sexy. They sounded like they belonged to someone who’d been up all night doing exactly what we had been doing.

  He kissed my shoulder. “Stay.”

  I loved the feel of his lips. I wanted them all over me. “I have a ballgown to return and a long walk past security to get to my room.”

  “Stay.”

  I loved that, I loved him, and after last night, all I wanted to do was stay curled up with him.

  I slipped away. “I have to go back.” I slid into my dress with more grace than on the day I met him.

  Wythe got up and zipped me, sharing more melting kisses on my skin, the way I’d dreamed he’d do when we were stuck together in that closet the first day. “I’ll walk you.” His voice was husky, too.

  “Okay.” I smiled at him, too euphoric to worry about the coming walk of shame. Because it wasn’t, not with him beside me.

  He got dressed and took my hand.

  Chapter 24

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  The knock came against the door to my small Downing Street apartment. I hopped up, wearing my favorite purple eyelet sundress and my biggest smile. I flung open the door, ready to great Wythe with a…

  Peppa and my sister stood in the doorway.

  That brought me down from the highest euphoric peak to…. I don’t know…to work thoughts and family drama. I’d hoped to never see Peppa again. And my sister… What was she even doing here? It had been so peacefully silent since I’d stopped checking her messages. I didn’t want to see either of them. My insides sank. I tried to pull a social smile back on my face, but I couldn’t. This was not how I wanted this morning to go. I wanted to concentrate on the ache in my body, the glow in my face, and Wythe. Nothing else. I wrapped my arms around my waist.

  My sister rushed forward and hugged me, familiar perfume, familiar hug, and it was all super weird.

  “You have a visitor. Visitors aren’t allowed. You know that from the packet. Security couldn’t reach you. I had to go and sort it and escort her upstairs.” Peppa still smelled like cucumbers and rosemary. How had she managed it? Why had she managed it? “Did your sister come to help you pack? Interns should be out by tonight. The packet said that.”

  I ignored her. She’d been irritating and worse all summer. She no longer had no power over me. I wouldn’t pretend she did.

  Felicity looked around. “You really live at Downing Street?” My sister had to be jetlagged, but she didn’t look it. She must’ve changed at the airport because her peach halter dress wasn’t crumpled, and she wore full makeup.

  I ignored her question in favor of one of my ow
n. “What are you doing here?”

  “Our parents reminded me to visit the grandparents before summer’s out.”

  Lie. Did she think I’d still fall for her crap? I arched my eyebrows. Our grandparents were British. We scheduled visits. We did not pop in. My look called her on her untruth.

  Felicity shrugged and shifted on her feet. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

  I’ve never been one for surprises.

  “Visitors are not allowed,” Peppa said.

  I wished she’d just leave.

  “My sister is not deaf,” Felicity said, frowning at the reminder that she was the visitor. Felicity turned from Peppa to me. She waggled her finger. “You haven’t been responding to my texts.”

  And it had been glorious. I shrugged.

  An uncertain expression crossed Felicity’s face at my lack of reaction. I’d normally be responding fiercely by now. That was our dynamic.

  Felicity waved toward the room. “This is rather small. So, London, right?”

  The dig didn’t bother me. I hadn’t spent last night here. And it had been wonderful. Dirty. Sexy. Private. Sweet. Glorious. Wonderful. “Yeah,” was all I said to her. I took a seat on the chair, where I’d draped the blue ballgown before my shower. I scooted the skirt over, so it wouldn’t crumple anymore. I’d be buying this dress from Georgiana. It was now tied to quite a memory. Good thing I was getting a job in the fall.

  Felicity plopped down on the couch, while Peppa hovered at the door. “You’re really staying here? On the property.” My sister sounded both impressed and a little peeved.

  I should have thought to tell her that sooner. It was special that I had gotten to stay here. Historic, really. It didn’t really matter now. “Yep. This is it.”

  Felicity pulled out her phone. She turned it around, so I could see the screen. She stood on the top row with a ton of interns, smiling, in a perfect photo. “Here’s me with the White House interns.”

  “Good for you.”

  “It was a really big deal. The White House, you know.”

  I really didn’t care.

  “Ours was, too,” Peppa said. “For those who made the cut.”

  I’d hoped Peppa would leave, but she still stood there. Either she thought Felicity was a security risk or she wanted her gray eyes in my business.

  “Good for you both.” I didn’t mean it or not mean it. I knew Felicity would make the photo; it wasn’t a surprise. I licked my lips and put it out there. “I didn’t make the intern photo here.” Then I shifted my gaze to Peppa, letting my eyes go hard enough so that she’d know I should have been included.

  Peppa shifted and looked down at her feet.

  Felicity smirked, not even trying to hide her gloat. She’d won; I’d come in second again.

  I would say I’d learned from the British to keep my pain on the inside, and that I was keeping up this cool exterior on purpose, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t annoyed at the smirk. It was so weird how Felicity’s smirk didn’t have any power over me. If anything, it amused me. I’d done my best here. I hadn’t let Wythe down as a friend. We’d ended up together, which was crazy sweet icing on a scone. I loved London. I loved him. Life was good.

  Felicity eyed my blue ballgown.

  I’d no doubt drawn her attention by toying with it. It was silk, how could I not? Silk, which just the night before had been turned inside out and entwined with Wythe’s tuxedo. Our clothes on the floor, inside-out. Together. I felt a blush start in my cheeks, and I beat away those intimate thoughts.

  “I don’t recognize that dress,” Felicity said. “Gorgeous. Where’d you get it? Did you buy it here?” She wanted me to fight. To defend the cost. To justify the extravagance.

  There was really so much power in not engaging. Who knew? How very…freeing. I tilted my head back in the chair and just looked at her, not responding, as if her questions were uncouth or intrusive.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Peppa opened my door.

  The PM entered. Felicity and I popped up. This morning had just gotten weirder. Peppa stepped back, her gray eyes big.

  Felicity knew who the PM was right away. She went to my side and elbowed me, her mouth gaping. Prime Ministers must see that look so often they start to think open-mouthed expressions were normal, like everyone had excessive whites to their eyes and showed their gums.

  I introduced them.

  The PM was polite but only focused on me. “I cannot thank you enough for this summer. For your contributions.”

  Heat crawled up my neck to my face. I hadn’t been a perfect intern. I wasn’t the worst. Well, with the gym’s fire alarm and the dog show’s alarm, I may have been the worst, but my intentions had been good.

  Peppa neither contradicted the PM nor added to the PM’s thanks.

  “What you did for Caroline.” The PM shook her head. “If I’d known a puppy would make her calm down, I would have gotten her a dog years ago.” She wrinkled her nose. “They prefer cats here, and I thought when Caroline was older, and I was out of office, then she could get a dog. Who knew how much she needed a pet?” It was a politician’s way of saying she’d been wrong without saying she was wrong. “She just adores little Teacup.”

  I was glad for Caroline. I knew what a dog meant. I was getting Trapper back when I went home.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. I went over to the door. My little room couldn’t really hold more guests.

  Wythe.

  I beamed at him. Coy was probably called for, but I beamed at him.

  “Hey.” Wythe grinned at me, a silly smile, a happy smile. I loved it. “You look…”

  Felicity cleared her throat.

  Wythe spared a glance around the room, and his smile turned to a slight frown at the crowd. I gave a quick introduction to Felicity.

  “Good Morning, Wythe. I was just praising Kira here for helping out with Caroline.” The PM turned to the door and looked back at me. “If there’s anything I can do for you…”

  I shook my head. “I have everything I need,” I said, and I meant it.

  Wythe held up his hand. “Recall the intern photo. Kira missed it while helping me so she wasn’t in it. Arrange a reshoot.”

  I appreciated that he suggested it, treasured it, but I shook my head again. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If she doesn’t care about the photo, there’s no sense in calling everyone back,” the PM said.

  Peppa cleared her throat. “Prime Minister. There is something you need to know.” She looked hard at me.

  Geez. Really. Don’t. Whatever mess you’re trying to stir up, Peppa, just don’t.

  “The fraternization rule.” Peppa looked at Wythe.

  His face was expressionless, but his jaw had tightened, and his eyes had a hard edge.

  I tried to keep my own face from flushing, but that was not possible.

  Peppa cleared her throat. “The fraternization rule was broken. Between your son and Kira. They are dating.” She said it like she was announcing that an overly large underground rat had crawled up to Downing Street from the river and was dripping water on the rugs.

  The PM scrunched her face. “Good for you two.” She frowned at Peppa. “That’s really their personal business, isn’t it?” The PM tapped her fingertips together. “Peppa, make that intern photo reshoot happen. But understand, Kira’s getting the photo for helping Caroline.” She smiled big and gave me a hug. “If she wants a photo for dating Wythe, we’ll make that more of a family photo.”

  I stood there, not knowing what to do. Relief. Comfort. Joy. Who knew London would be so emotional for me?

  The PM left.

  Wythe came over to me and put his arm around my shoulders. He kissed the side of my head. “We will do that.”

  “I’ll sort it.” Peppa choked on the words. “The intern photo, that is.”

  Wythe squeezed my hand. “Come find me when you’re done here?”

  I nodded and watched him. My heart panged. How could I miss him already? I had it bad.

/>   “He’s being really nice. Probably because you aced that class at Oxford together. I could have helped him with that.” Peppa went to the door. “I’ll arrange the shoot. It’s not really appropriate to call everyone back together at the last minute, but it looks like I’ll have to.”

  She left, too, finally, leaving me there with my sister.

  “You’re going to Oxford?” Felicity said. “You’re dating the Prime Minister’s son? We’re twins. How do I not know any of this?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Felicity shifted and looked away.

  “I’m over the competitive thing.” And I was. She’d have to engage all by herself. “I have a lot to sort out here. I’ll walk you out and see you at home. You can do some sightseeing or something. We can meet up for tea before you leave.”

  Felicity nodded. “He is hot.”

  “Yeah.”

  Felicity left with that. No jabs.

  All I’d had to do was not react to her. But I hadn’t been able to do that until I was satisfied with my lot. I was more than satisfied really. I was happy. I was going to go find Wythe, and my intern photo shoot would happen. To quote Jane Austen, I was “completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.”

  ***

  A week later, I was packing for home and I found my paperback copy of Hornicorn. I’d finished it, but it wasn’t really something I wanted to pass on to another reader or leave behind. Yeah, it was that embarrassing of a read. But it was a fun escape.

  Wythe would be packing now, too. Or his staff would. He’d miss his staff in America. But he’d like it there. Or would he bring his staff with him? That was his concern now. I wasn’t his intern anymore. I didn’t know exactly what life would look like with us together in America. He’d do a job with number stuff. I’d figure out some word job to do. Then we’d meet in bed at night. I couldn’t imagine anything better.

  I thumped the spiral unicorn horn on the book’s front cover. Ha. I flipped through the pages, looking for the section on hoof clinking and folded down the top corner, dog-earing the pertinent Hornicorn scene. Wythe had to see this. And I doubted he had his own copy.

  I trekked downstairs to his rooms.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.