by Tara Wylde
At least, that’s the lie I tell myself. That logic is driving this. That I’m thinking about this rationally. That my brain is in charge, instead of…
Something else.
“Okay.”
Lucas floats a brow. “Okay?”
“Okay, let’s do it. Let’s get married.”
Alexis
I do, I do, I do.
The words flash, in cornea-burning neon, against my closed eyelids. Each burst of unwelcome neon is accompanied by a painful throb that encompasses my entire brain.
I shift on the cool sheets and instantly regret the action as a fresh burst of pain seizes my head until I’m convinced my skull’s about to explode.
At least the bed is comfortable, though it’s not familiar and the room feels larger and airier than the hotel rooms I generally occupy.
Laying very still, I slowly shift through my memory, plucking at different files in search of the one that will provide information about where I am and how I got here.
I call up an image of a kindly man with dark skin and the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen standing, smiling, in front of me. He’s dressed in ornate robes and is surrounded by candlelight.
My stomach twists. I’m certain I no longer want to go through with this trip down memory lane, but now that I’ve started, I’ve no choice but to complete it.
Another memory, not visual but a tactile one. I’m standing in what feels like a large, cavernous room. Someone’s pressed close to my side, their fingers laced with mine. I smell their spicy cologne, feel their lips brushing my hair. Close by, someone is talking, well not talking so much as reciting a speech, in an unfamiliar language.
The person holding my hand, whispers a translation in my ear and prompting my response.
The knot in my stomach tightens.
Now a glass full of golden champagne appears before my mind’s eye. I recall how sweet it tastes and how much the bubbles tickling my nose delight me.
Then a car ride. More champagne. Warm hands and hotter kisses that sear my skin and make writhe and squirm even as I demand more.
I don’t want to do it, but my body acts against my will. I crack open a single eye and glare at my left hand. A simple gold band with a huge diamond setting winks at me.
“Oh shit.”
“Really?” a soft feminine voice startles me. “That’s not how most women would respond to becoming a princess.”
I roll over and force both eyes open. It’s a struggle.
The most elegant woman I’ve ever encountered is perched on the edge of my bed. Her long dark hair hangs in a braid down her back, just a few strands escaping, which instead of looking messy like the would on me, only serves to accent a face so perfect it should be a cameo.
I swallow and attempt to get my tongue, which feels about three sizes too big for my mouth and is covered with moss. “I’m fuzzy about exactly what happened last night – but I’m fairly certain you weren’t there.”
“Mmm, you’re right, though I do wish I had. I might have prevented a major scandal.”
“Uh huh.” I start to sit up, only to discover that I’m naked beneath the sheet. My face burns as I scramble to cover myself. I don’t remember doing anything the required removing my dress, so why the Hell aren’t I wearing it now. “Exactly who are you?”
“I’m Princess Shelly Nikolay. Lucas’s brother and apparently your sister-in-law.”
“Oh.” No other response comes to mind so I extend my right hand, “Alexis Thane.”
Shelly shakes her head. “No, not Thane. Nikolay. You need to get used to using it.”
“Relax Shell. We’ve only been married a few hours. She has plenty of time.”
Lucas rounds a corner. A thick lock of dark hair hangs over his brow. I watch as water gathers at the ends of the hair until it’s weight frees it. It slides along the contours of his face, falls off the edge of his jaw, and rolls down a perfectly chiseled torso before it’s progress is halted by the thick white towel he’s wrapped around his waist.
Despite my pounding head and growing sense of regret, my tongue wants to trace the damp line the water left and then nudge the towel away and see what it hides.
My gaze slides up his body, lingering a moment on the towel, before locking with his.
Caught. My face burns and I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“You’re wet.” Not exactly witty, but at least it’s not another one of my stupid jokes.
“Side effect of showering,” he says in a warm tone that makes my toes curl. He studies my bare shoulder. His eyes smolder. ‘Shame you were so soundly asleep. You could have joined me and then we’d both be … Simply.”
Shelly flows to her feet. No one should look so beautiful, graceful, and put together when they’re wearing nothing but faded jeans and a simple lightweight sweater. It’s not fair.
She swats Lucas’s arm. “Enough. There’s no time for her to get used to her new name, or for your fun time shower games. Or anything else for that matter.”
“What are you talking about.”
Shelly tugs her smartphone out of her back pocket and hands it to him. “That.”
Lucas studies the screen and I study his face, trying to gain some insight into the man I married in a drunken, hormone driven haze. His expression doesn’t change, but the rest of his body tenses.
“Son of a bitch.”
“What is it?”
The sibling ignore me.
“That’s only part of it,” Shelly reaches over and swipes at the screen. With each swipe, Lucas’s tension and my apprehension increases. “This is going to take some serious damage control, big brother.”
“Hey!” I immediately regret raising my voice. The sound vibrates through my skull. That’s it, no more drinking.
I take a few deep, shaky breaths, waiting for the throbbing to recede before continuing. “What is going on?”
“This.” Shelly snatches the phone from her brother’s hand and shoves it towards me.
I squint against the screen’s glare.
“Here.” The mattress dips under Lucas’s weight. He reaches over and dims the screen. “Better?”
The unexpected sweetness of the gesture combined with the spicy scent of his soap sets my heart pounding. He’s so close his heat warms my bare shoulder.
I swallow and try not to think about the fact that we’re both naked. “Much. Thank you.”
Despite the dimness of the screen it still takes a moment to process what I’m seeing.
It’s a Google search page of newspaper, magazine, and blogs results. Each one shows a page heading the screams variations of the same theme.
Billionaire Prince Buys a Bride
One Bet, One Auction, One Bride
Prince Lucas Weds on a Dare
Mordovia has a New Royal. She Only Cost 50K
“Oh God.” I groan. I don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or what’s on the screen is making me feel this sick. I pass the phone back to Lucas. I don’t need to see any more.
He stares at the screen. “There was a reporter at the hotel last night. Young. I’d never seen him before. He overheard you and Tessa.”
“So, this is my fault?” I bite back. My head spins. I can’t believe what I’ve done.
“No,” Lucas says firmly, gripping my hand. “It’s mine. I should have done things differently. I was so caught up in convincing you to get married, I didn’t think things through. I thought I’d have a few days before the press got wind of the story.”
“Well you don’t. You’ve got to start doing damage control.” Shelly snatches her phone and returns it to her back pocket. Her eyes meet mine. “Starting with meeting the parents – so you had better change into something appropriate.”
Alexis
I've always been a good, level headed person. I made smart choices and worked hard, and had, until last night, managed to get through life without getting into the kind of scrapes Tessa and my other friends encountered.
&nbs
p; I was the last person any one would suspect of rushing headlong into a sham of a marriage to a prince. So where and how have things gone so wrong?
Even as I contemplated the question, I realize that if I were sitting in a darkened movie theatre and watching this same scenario unfold on the silver screen, I’d be entranced by the comedy.
Real life is different. Instead of feeling like a romantic comedy, my situation feels like a high stress drama that keeps delivering on blow after another.
“Your parents,” I murmur, rocked back with horror.
Shelly smiles sympathetically. “They’re going to be the easy ones. My mom has wanted Lucas to get married for a long time now, and my dad is a pretty tolerant guy. The press, though. They’re going to be a challenge. We’re going to need a good cover story.”
I tug as the sheet I’m still wrapped in. “And clothes.”
“Don’t you have any?”
Lucas nods at the crumbled red silk dress draped across a chair. “Just that. I suppose it would work for meeting mom and dad.”
“Spoken like a man.” Shelly rolls her eyes and sends a sympathetic smile my way. “I have some sweats you can borrow.”
I wait until she leaves the room. “She wears sweats. Like a normal person.”
She looks out of place in fancy designer jeans. It’s impossible to imagine her in something as ordinary as sweat pants and a t-shirt.
“Alexis,” Lucas says, sounding weary, “Shelly and I are normal, just like you. The only difference is that because of a twist of fate, we happened to be born into a royal family.”
Lucas sounds like he believes it, but I doubt he’s ever been reduced to eating nothing but ramen just so he can pay his car insurance. I decide to let the matter drop.
“Lucas, can I ask a question?”
“Always.”
“How did I get undressed last night. Did we …”
I pause. I can’t bring myself to say it, but the implication is clear.
I was already ashamed enough that, other than a few drunken giggles on my part, the only thing I can remember after leaving the church was sticking my head out of the limo’s moon roof and yelling at the top of my head.
The mattress dips and sways as Lucas assumes a prone position. The only thing separating his nearly naked body from mine was a sheet and a thin blanket. His towel parts slightly, revealing a slice of a nicely shaped thigh.
He reaches out and runs his knuckles across the swell of both of my breasts. I shiver. It doesn’t make sense, but his touch, is as good for my hangover as a handful of aspirin.
“Are you trying to ask me if we had sex?”
I blush and nod.
Lucas’s fingers nudge the sheet, pushing it a fraction of an inch lower. I close my eyes.
The sheet continues to cover more than most of the tank-tops I wear on hot summer days, but because we’re currently in bed together and probably because it’s the only thing I’m wearing, I feel more exposed than ever before.
Lucas’s fingers lightly explore the newly exposed strip of skin, each brush of skin on skin sending tiny electrical pulses to my nipples which harden. Tension, strange and exciting, builds in my core.
If an innocent, vanilla touch causes me to react this way, what will happen when he replaces his fingers with his tongue, or when he moves over and into me.
For the first time in my life, my imagination fails me. Probably from potential sensory overload.
“I assure you,” Lucas leans close. His breath warms my ear. I sense him staring at my face. “That your virtue is still in place. Nothing happened. Not even a kiss.”
His thumb slides beneath the sheet and swirls around my nipple. I jolt at the unexpected touch.
“Easy.” He cuddles closer and nuzzles my ear. I moan out loud. I’d been told ears are an erogenous zone, but before Lucas, I’d never believed that to be true.
“Why didn’t we …” I can’t bring myself to say the word, “you know. Didn’t you want to?”
My memory of last night may be hazy, but I do know that I was been ready and willing to engage in whatever carnal activities he’d wanted. It was one of the main reasons he’d talked me into entering that church and repeating vows in a language I don’t understand. Carried along on a wave of lust and alcohol.
I guess no great story starts with someone eating a salad…
“Oh, I wanted to,” Lucas growls. His other hand finds my other breast and he gives it a squeeze that walks the line between pleasure and pain.
“There’s something about you. Just looking at you makes me harder than I’ve ever been before. I can barely think straight for wanting to fuck you.”
So why didn’t he? Insecurity mixes with desire. “Did I do something wrong?
I don’t have to wait long for the answer.
“The only reason I haven’t completely ravished you yet is because you were practically falling down drunk.” Lucas’s lips find the pulse point in my throat and he kisses it. My head falls to the side, allowing him better access.
“And while you’re one of the sexiest drunks I’ve had the pleasure of knowing, there was no way that I was going to ravish you then. When you and I make love, I want you to know exactly what’s happening.”
His mouth moves lower, sliding past my collar bone to place a love bite on the swell of my right breast.
My back arches, begging him for more. The edge of the sheet slips to my navel, baring my entire chest to his hands and mouth. I don’t care.
His tongue darts out snaking over my nipple. I moan while he continues his story.
“So when we got back here, I helped you out of your dress and into bed. I held your hand while you fell asleep. That’s all that happened.”
Lucas rolls on top of me. His erection presses into my thigh through the thin covers, he cups my face between my hands and looks so deeply into my eyes I think he’s reading my inner most thoughts.
“But you’re not drunk now, are you Alexis?”
I shake my head.
“So there’s nothing stopping me from ravishing you the way a husband should ravish his brand new bride, is there?”
I shake my head. His pupils dilate. I swear the corners of his mouth flex, like he’s about to smile.
“Good,” he lowers his head. Our breaths mingle. My lips part and my eyes flutter shut.
Just as lip meets lip, the bedroom door bangs open.
Alexis
I dive under the covers and bite my hand in an effort to hold back nervous giggles.
“Unbelievable,” Shelly scolds. “I’m trying to help, and the two of you are …. Unbelievable. Mom and dad expect both of you to make an appearance. In five minutes. So, get dressed and get your asses to the family room.”
Something hits the bed and the door slams shut with so much force it fails to catch and swings open again, stopping at about the half way point.
Lucas heaves a sigh. “I suppose she’s right.”
I slide my head out from the covers and spy a haphazard sprawl of cotton. The promised sweats. I grab the shirt and glance at Lucas who watches me with heavy lidded eyes. “Well?”
Lucas’s forehead furrows. “Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to move?”
Nerves and an overwhelming sense of shyness and self-consciousness sweep over me. Silly really. Just a moment ago, I’d have done just about anything to have Lucas in me, but now the thought of him seeing even a glimpse of my less than perfect naked body while I shimmied into the sweats makes me blush.
“Not just yet.” He motions at himself, drawing my attention to the tented fabric covering his lap. My blush deepens even as a surge of pride sweeps through me.
I, an awkward former foster kid with no real sexual experience and an appearance that’s often been described as messy – and in possession of an off-beat sense of humor, have done this to him.
Amazing.
My fingers itch to reach over and part the towel, to see the real evidence of this str
ange attraction. Lucas’s eyes darken as if he reads my thoughts.
Moving away from temptation, I dive back under the covers and start wiggling into the borrowed clothes. It seems slightly more dignified than making a naked dash across the room to dress in privacy.
Just as I tug the dark purple sweatshirt into place, the mattress shifts and I hear Lucas’s bare feet hit the floor.
“What are you doing?” Based on his voice, it sounds like he’s walking across the room.
“Getting dressed.” I grunt. Yeah, grunt. You try getting dressed underneath a heavy duvet. It ain’t easy.
“You always dress in this manner? It doesn’t seem very … dignified.”
I ignore him and execute a complicated undercover contortion that ends with me sliding the soft, stretchy pants over my hips.
Dressed and feeling slightly braver, I poke my head out just in time to get a flash of Lucas’s ass before he covers it with a pair of tight spandex briefs,
My mouth dries, my heart pounds, and all coherent thought flees.
HOLY COW! As an antiques dealer, I’ve encountered sculptures and paintings that featured beautiful nude men. Even as I appreciated the beauty, I’d laughed. I’d always assumed the artists employed an element of fantasy to their work, rather like the way magazines use airbrushing to make models more attractive. No real man could possibly compare.
The brief glimpse of Lucas’s bare ass blew my hypothesis out of the water.
For the first time in my life, I actually understand what Tessa means when she calls a guy’s ass bitable.
Hell, I’m thinking lickable.
Shocked by the sudden turn of my thoughts, I turn tail and race to the bathroom. I need to put a barrier between my lewd thoughts and Lucas before I do something to truly embarrass myself.
Lucas
I watch Alexis’ reflection in the mirror before me as she wheels and runs from the large bedroom we’re going to share for the next few months.
I’ve known Alexis for less than twenty-four hours, yet watching her has already become my favorite hobby. I’ve never encountered anyone who had such an open and expressive face, and yet revealed nothing.