The Royals: Alexander and Clara: Volume One (The Royals Saga)

by Geneva Lee

  “I lost control. It should never have happened.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I’m sorry, Clara.”

  “I’m not,” I murmured, letting him go. Scooting off the bed, I stood before him and tipped his chin up with my finger. “I was going crazy not knowing. Now I know.”

  The fire was gone from his eyes, extinguished by guilt. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet my gaze. “It will never happen again.”

  “X—”

  “This isn’t a negotiation,” he cut me off. “This is my hard limit. I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you again, but I will not inflict physical pain on you. If you ask again, I will refuse. Are we clear?”

  I nodded, swallowing against the lump in my throat.

  “Do you hate me?” he asked, opening his eyes to search mine.

  Why couldn’t he see that how I felt for him was the furthest thing from hate? My heart ached knowing that my words could never reassure him. Words could wound and destroy but they’d never be enough to heal or rebuild. There were so few words that could do that and they were words he couldn’t speak or hear. With us, we could only show one another.

  I took a step back as my fingers found the buttons of the blouse I still wore. My shirt fell to the floor and I unhooked my bra, shucking it from my breasts. Alexander watched with distant eyes that only barely sparked when I finally stood naked before him. He took my hand and pulled me close.

  “Turn around,” he ordered softly.

  I hesitated, knowing why he wanted me to.

  “Clara.” His tone was rich with the unrepeated command.

  Shifting my feet, I turned my back to him. A low, strangled growl rose in his throat, raising goose bumps along my arms. His fingers skimmed across the tender flesh, writing apologies across my skin.

  “I can’t make love to you,” he confessed. “Not after this. I shouldn’t be allowed to touch your body.”

  I swiveled in his embrace and shook my head. “I need this. My body needs this. No negotiations.”

  His hands dropped to his sides. If that was how we had to play it, so be it. He didn’t stop me as I straddled him, sinking into his lap. Hooking an arm around his neck, I circled my hips slowly, knowing his body would respond even if he insisted on punishing himself.

  “Touch me,” I said in a soft voice. “I know what you can’t say. I know what you think you’ve done to me. But you can show me how you feel. I need you inside me. No more walls. There are no secrets now. Just be with me.”

  His mouth caught mine. He kissed me like a drowning man gasping for air, his hand curving up to cradle my back. I continued to move against him, feeling him growing hard against my soft thigh as I lost myself to the surge of emotions flooding through me. He was the earth and the air. Fire and water. My whole world packaged into one perfectly flawed man. His free hand slid between my legs, but he didn’t touch me; instead he freed his cock from the confines of his boxer briefs. The tip nestled against my swelling cleft and my hips shifted, urging it to find sanctuary. Our bodies joined together instinctually as we clung to one another. Alexander rocked me gently, his lips never leaving mine as he bore me toward the edge. We held each other as we climbed, no longer fighting the overwhelming deluge of thoughts and emotions that saturated our blood and trembled through our limbs.

  There was no more need for apology. No need to speak words still unsaid. It was all laid bare. I knew him—his body, his mind, his heart—as I knew my own, and when I brimmed over, he crashed along with me. Neither of us let go as we came, clutching flesh and binding souls. We’d never let go again.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The waiter pulled out a chair, and I plastered a smile on my face as I settled into my seat. The one in my office was padded but there was no such luck at Greene’s Tavern. The discomfort was minor and I was sure by the end of our meal, I wouldn’t notice it all. It was likely to be outweighed by heavy, awkward conversation. The upscale restaurant was fairly quiet for a Tuesday afternoon, but I’d taken an early lunch. Madeline had insisted. If she noticed my cautious posture, she didn’t comment.

  “Thank you for taking the time to meet me,” my mother said in a quiet voice as she closed her menu. She’d dressed the part today, clad in a deep gray dress suit with a set of pearls nestled over her elegant collarbone. Still despite the mature ensemble, we could have passed for sisters, thanks to her loosely styled hair and flawless skin. “I feel as though I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Weeks would be more precise but certainly not dramatic enough for her taste. “I apologize. I’ve been busy with the new job.”

  “Amongst other things.” She didn’t continue, and she didn’t have to. I knew exactly what she was inferring.

  There were a million lies I could tell her to soothe her bruised ego, but I wasn’t interested in playing into that game. “Yes, amongst other things.”

  “It’s really not appropriate for you to move in with a man and not tell your family,” she lectured me. At least she was finally getting to the point.

  “It happened quite suddenly,” I reminded her. I knew that didn’t matter to her. All she cared about was that she’d been left out. Never mind I’d had nothing to tell her or that she’d actually been one of the first people to know. If I didn’t count the thousands of television viewers that had been privy to Alexander’s ploy.

  Her lips pursed into an unattractive pout even as she shrugged. “It’s your life.”

  That had never been a fact she seemed capable of grasping. The waiter delivered us from further conversation, but I had no doubt it was only a momentary respite.

  “It’s good to see your appetite increasing,” she noted when he disappeared with the menus and our orders. “I don’t remember the last time you ordered that much food.”

  “I’ve been running more.” I didn’t add that my suddenly active sex life played a larger role in my hunger.

  Her hazel eyes narrowed and she studied me for a moment, leaning against the table. “Are you pregnant?”

  “Mother!” My shocked exclamation drew the attention of most of the room’s patrons, but perhaps owing to its posh atmosphere, they turned quickly away.

  “It’s a reasonable question.” She sipped at her vodka tonic. “You did move in with him rather quickly.”

  “No, it’s not,” I hissed. “This is the twenty-first century, so please stop planning my shotgun wedding. I’m not pregnant.”

  “I’m relieved to hear that.” She abandoned her drink and turned the full force of her maternal gaze on me. “It would be scandalous.”

  “There are always plenty of scandals. No one would care if I was,” I said dismissively, even though my stomach flipped. There would be many people who would care. One in particular. “A baby isn’t in our plans.”

  “Yet.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up a hand. Part of me wanted to slump in my chair and cross my arms defensively. Something about the situation reminded me a bit too much of how I’d felt as a teenager living under her roof.

  “There will be expectations, Clara. You can’t shack up with the heir to the throne. It isn’t done. The press—and much of your family and friends—expect an announcement of your intentions.”

  “Did I mention this is the twenty-first century?” I mumbled, reaching for my glass of wine.

  “It might be for most of the world, but not for the Royal family. There is etiquette and protocol and expectations.”

  “I know that,” I snapped, aware that my resentment stemmed primarily from the reminder of something I’d rather forget. “It’s much too soon for us to consider marriage.”

  I meant it. I’d only recently graduated. I had a new job that I loved. There were a million reasons not to add the pressure of marriage into that equation. Not the least of which was that we’d only met a few months ago.

  “Alexander will be expected to take on more responsibility soon. One of the duties will be to find a wife and produce the next heir,” she informed me.


  “I had no idea you were so invested in the monarchy.”

  “I’m invested in you.” Warning colored her voice and I bit back another jibe.

  “I am as well,” I assured her instead. “Our relationship is very new. I don’t think anyone expects us to plan a wedding yet.”

  “Regardless, it is something to be aware of. Your actions are under a microscope, Clara, and the attention is only going to increase.”

  I swallowed the remainder of my wine. She was right. I’d already experienced the scrutiny, and Alexander had only welcomed more into our lives with his announcement. There would be speculation. There might even be retaliation from King Albert himself, who Alexander had carefully cut out of all our conversations. Life outside Notting Hill was only going to get more complicated.

  The waiter appeared, presenting each of us with a salad, and I stared at the plate, my appetite slipping away. I forced myself to pick up the fork. It would be all too easy to slip into old patterns, especially as I sensed that at any moment my life might slip out of control. I was determined not to let that happen.

  Across the table my mother speared lettuce onto her fork and smiled congenially. “Tell me about your housewarming. I’m terribly excited for Saturday.”

  That made one of us.

  “Could you?” I asked Alexander, gesturing to the zipper on the back of my black lace cocktail dress. He was only half dressed, his shirt still unbuttoned at the neck, no cuff links on his sleeves, but he turned and fingered the pull, gliding it closed. When he reached the top, he kissed my neck. It was the same cautious brand of affection he’d given me since Monday evening. “It feels strange to have you dress me.”

  But the joke failed to lighten the mood. Instead he offered me a tight smile and returned to buttoning his shirt. He reached for a tie, but I caught his hand. This evening our house would be filled with family and friends. That was enough to have my stomach doing somersaults. I wouldn’t be able to handle this evening if something didn’t shift between us. “You can’t avoid touching me forever.”

  “I haven’t avoided you,” he said in a gruff voice, pulling away and reaching for a tie.

  It was technically true. We’d spent every evening in bed together this week, healing what we’d damaged with gentle touches and hours of lovemaking. But it hadn’t been enough. “Then fuck me.”

  “Now?” He raised an eyebrow. “Our guests arrive in twenty minutes.”

  “When has that ever stopped you? Or are you not up for the challenge?” I purred. I skimmed my hand over the front of his trousers, pleased to feel his cock twitch to life at my touch. “I’m not broken, X, and from the feel of this, you aren’t either.”

  “There are things to be done,” he reminded me.

  But I didn’t care about checking that the catering was properly set up or the vases were filled. I cared about the fact that I could feel closer to him than ever at the same time that he pushed me away. I only knew one way to fix it.

  I gripped his erection and shook my head before releasing it and reaching for his tie. It slipped from his neck and I wound it loosely around my wrists. “Tonight you’re going to wrap this around my hands until I can’t pull your hair or claw your skin, and then you’re going to fuck me until neither of us remembers why the hell we’ve wasted the last week tiptoeing around one another.”

  His eyes hooded, imagining what I’d suggested. “Is that so, poppet?”

  I nodded, feeling encouraged and added, “But right now you’re going to get down on your knees and fuck me with your tongue.”

  He didn’t need further prodding. Something wild returned to his eyes as he dropped to the floor and shoved my skirt up and around my waist. A low growl rumbled from his throat when he saw my naked sex. “Naughty, poppet. You’ve forgotten your knickers.”

  “It seems silly to wear them with skirts if you’re only going to rip them off.” Although I didn’t mind when he did. “You told me once that I should be ready to fuck anywhere, and I like to please you.”

  “That feeling is mutual.” He leaned in and his breath tickled across my swollen sex. He stroked a long finger along the seam and a pang of longing shot through my core. “Your cunt needs attention.”

  “Yes,” I hissed as his lips began to move along my hip.

  Alexander’s finger slipped inside my cleft, massaging me with deliberate, teasing strokes. “Is this what it needs?”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t enough. Not for me, and not for him. I’d watched him going through the motions this week and I couldn’t let it continue.

  “It needs to be fucked so hard that I can’t stand up afterward. It needs to remember that it belongs to you. It still does, doesn’t it, X?” The playful tone faded from my voice as a terrible thought occurred to me. My voice trembled as I forced myself to ask: “Or do you not want it anymore?”

  His hand stilled and his eyes flashed. An eternity passed and then his other hand settled over my belly. Without warning, he shoved me against the door. My legs parted for him without coaxing and his tongue was on me, filling me—fucking me—with a possessive fury. He drew back but only to nip my throbbing clit with his teeth. I cried out, my body already shaking with relief. I needed this—the dominance. I needed to belong to him as much as he needed to own me. Fingers worked roughly inside me as he sucked and tongued me until a shudder rolled through my skin and tightened my limbs. My hips bucked closer to his mouth, desperate for more. His mouth clamped over my sensitive bud and I exploded in a deluge of stars and light.

  Alexander caught me as I swayed and held me upright even as he continued to lick across my trembling sex. “All night I’m going to taste you on my tongue. Do you know what that does to me? Tasting your cunt?”

  He stood and pressed his body close to mine, brushing his feverish erection against my bare stomach. I whimpered, ready to feel it inside of me and grabbed for it.

  “No.” He stopped me. “Not yet. When I finally take you tonight, and I will, I’m going to fuck you so hard and for so long that you forget your own name. Never mind being able to walk.”

  A loud knock startled us a few inches apart. Our time was up, and I’d never wanted him so badly. Alexander pulled his tie back on, a familiar smirk playing across his lips as I struggled to find the strength to push my dress back down and re-clip my stockings to my garter.

  “I missed that smug grin,” I told him as I slipped on my heels.

  “Poppet, I promise you’ll be seeing more of it later.” He cornered me, his body pressing mine flat against the wall. His rock hard cock jabbing me as he traced his lips down my jaw. “Do you still want to be fucked?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. The knocking had faded away along with the world. There was only him and the hungry ache building between my legs.

  “Tonight I’m going to fuck you against the wall until you can’t stand up, and then I’m going to take you to bed and ride you. Your body won’t remember what it’s like to not have my cock inside of it.” He drew back, the smirk was gone but his eyes were on fire. Straightening his tie, he gestured toward the bedroom door. There was a party to attend and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to drop to my knees and beg him to take me on the spot. X was back and badder than ever. An evening of small talk followed by a night of debauchery?

  Yes, please.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Edward’s hands were on his hips when I tugged open our front door. I shot him a sheepish smile that clearly read guilty-as-charged, and he shook his head. Bustling past me with bags in hand, he headed straight for the kitchen. To my very pleasant surprise, David followed him. I didn’t know David that well, but I couldn’t help reaching out and pulling him into a hug. No one else in the world understood what it was like to be in love with a man like Alexander. It was time for David and me to get to know one another a little better.

  “It’s nice to see you,” I said sincerely when I finally released him.

  “Edward insisted that I should com
e.” David ran a hand over his cropped hair, nervousness flashing across his dark features.

  Alexander came up behind me, threading his arms around my waist as I shut the door. “You’re always welcome in our home.”

  A thrill ran through my chest. I thought I was over hearing him say things like our. Apparently I was wrong. It somehow meant more when he said it to other people, as though he was laying claim to me—laying claim to my heart by giving it a home.

  “When you’re through being sappy, I could use a hand,” Edward called.

  “I’ll go,” I volunteered. “Why don’t you show David around?” It couldn’t hurt to encourage a relationship between Alexander and his brother’s boyfriend, especially since David already felt like an outsider. He’d been given a place amongst the young circle of Royals thanks to Edward, but that welcome would surely be revoked if any of them learned the true nature of their relationship. It was completely unfair, but having met the Royal Brat Pack myself, I didn’t find it surprising. They hadn’t exactly tripped over themselves to embrace me.

  In the kitchen, Edward was rearranging the caterer’s trays. I folded my arms over my chest and waited for him to put me to work.

  “Are you capable of corking some wine bottles or has Alex expended all your energy?” he asked, holding out a corkscrew.

  “How dare you,” I said with mock sincerity. “Do I look like that kind of girl?”

  “You haven’t looked in the mirror, have you?” He lowered his glasses and surveyed me. “I’d call this look just shagged couture.”

  I smoothed my hair, noting that there were a significant number of strands that had worked their way loose from the knot I’d styled earlier. I shrugged guiltily, although no part of me felt ashamed, and took the corkscrew. “A girl has her needs.”

  “And it looks as though they’ve been well met. But unless I’m wrong, your mother is going to be here any minute, along with about thirty other people.”