Glass Castle Prince

by Nicole Williams

  My phone ringing woke me up the next morning. I hit Ignore.

  I doubted Theo wanted to hear that I was waking up in Edward’s bed. Wiggling under the covers, I inhaled the scent clinging to the sheets. They smelled the exact same way Edward did after a shower, his soap and aftershave, with the faint scent of fabric softener. Grabbing the extra pillow, I drew it to my chest, squeezing it to me as the confusion from last night came flooding back.

  I liked Theo. He was everything that was easy to like.

  But I thought I liked Edward too. Who was not particularly easy to like . . . at first. Save for title and good looks, he came off as cool, dismissive, and superior, traits I positively abhorred in a person. That wasn’t who he was at all though; that was the wall he’d built to protect himself. Behind it, he was thoughtful, warm, and facetious, if only in his unique way.

  My phone rang again, interrupting the thoughts I was attempting to sort. Punching the pillow, I hit Ignore once more, then decided to turn the darn thing off entirely.

  Rolling over to see if it had snowed overnight like it was scheduled to any day now, I froze. My heart unthawed first, pounding like a jackhammer.

  “Good morning.” The figure perched against the windowsill was more dark shadow than visible form due to the sun rising behind him. But I’d recognize that dark outline anywhere, in my next life too.

  “How long have you been there?” I cried, pulling the cover up to my chin. I could feel I’d twisted and turned enough times in my sleep my toga wasn’t covering the same parts of my body it had last night.

  Edward’s shadow sat up straighter, the rising sun directly behind his head now, golden rays shooting from the dark ends or his hair. “Not long.”

  “Not long as in a few seconds or a few minutes?”

  “Not long as in a half hour. Give or take,” he replied, shoving off the sill and approaching the bed with an extra cup of coffee. He set it on his night table, his brow furrowing when I pulled the blankets up past my mouth. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m trying not to freak out that you snuck into my room while I was asleep and stood there watching me do whatever it is I do in my sleep.” My voice was muffled from talking through his comforter as I squirmed, trying to recover myself with my toga.

  “Three things.” He returned to the windowsill. “Technically this is my room.”

  “You said last night it was mine,” I argued, managing to wrestle one boob back into the sheet dress. “I remember.”

  He rubbed his mouth. “Two, you were asleep, thus not doing anything else. And three, some women might find a man watching over them while they slept romantic.”

  “Some women?” I snorted, still working through the fact I’d woken up to the Prince of Norland five yards away. “You’re talking about those who define a healthy relationship as controlling and manipulative, right? Because none of the healthy-relationship women I know think some dude staring at them in their sleep is anywhere on the scope of romantic. And people do more than rest when they’re asleep.”

  I heaved a sigh when I managed to get the last bit of R-rated Charlotte covered again. He might not have been able to see anything, but it didn’t change the fact that intimate parts of me were naked against his bedding.

  “Like what?” Edward asked, retrieving his cup of coffee from the sill. “Roll over? You didn’t even do that.”

  “Like talk,” I said, watching him sip his coffee. I hoped nothing particularly colorful or informative had slipped from my sleeping mouth. “Make other sounds.”

  “Other sounds?”

  “Like mumbling. Moaning. Farting,” I said quickly when he chuckled over the moaning comment. “Some people drool in their sleep. Some flounder and fight with the covers like they’re a human tornado.”

  His chuckle tapered off. “Some people?”

  My head sank deeper into the pillow. “How bad was it?”

  “Nothing I witnessed just now fell anywhere in those realms.” The dark form adjusted his position in the window. “Save for maybe the drooling.”

  That was it. Grabbing a pillow, I chucked it at him as hard as I could. He leaned to the side, dodging it with ease.

  “How’s your ankle?” he asked, approaching the bed again.

  My ankle? I’d forgotten all about it until he mentioned it. “Great actually.”

  Edward rolled up the bottom corner of the blankets past my ankle. The ice pack made of his favorite shirt had been replaced with an actual one sometime in the night. I didn’t need two guesses to figure out who’d crept into my room while I’d been asleep. Prince Creep.

  “You found a shirt,” I said, casually inspecting the tee he’d pulled on.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, examining my ankle. “You seem disappointed.”

  “Oh please.” I sat up, not missing his smirk. “You walking out shirtless last night was no mistake, Abs-asaurus Rex.” I collapsed back down when he touched my ankle, warm fingers dragging across my skin. “You know the effect you have on women.”

  His fingers pressed a little deeper. “And what about the effect I have on you?”

  There was no way I was going to answer his question. Especially since I didn’t know how he felt about me. Or how I felt about him entirely. “You didn’t go out on your morning walk.”

  He carefully placed my ankle back on the mattress and covered it with the blankets again. “I didn’t have anything to think about.”

  “Suddenly all of the mysteries of the world have come to light?” Sitting up in bed, I reached for the cup of coffee on the night table. “Must be nice.”

  “One of them has. The others can wait to be sorted out,” he replied, wandering back to the window and staring at the landscape glowing in the morning light. The dew was burning off of the grass and trees, creating wisps of fog that floated across the earth. “I made you a promise last night. One I intend to keep.”

  I had to remind myself to swallow the sip of coffee I’d taken. “Wait”—I went rigid when he looked back at me over his shoulder—“like now?”

  “Unless your busy schedule of tending to indoor plants and checking air filters prohibits it.”

  My stomach lodged in my throat as I caught up to what he was saying. “Like now now?”

  I could just make out the corner of his mouth moving before his head turned toward the window again. “Give or take.”

  While I chugged my coffee, my mind rattled off things at a rate I couldn’t keep up with. It all boiled down to the reality that I was about to have sex with Edward today.

  Soon.

  Now.

  “I could really use a shower first.” I set down the empty mug, noting his hair was still damp from his own shower. “And a solid session with a toothbrush and hairbrush.” And a razor, tweezers, lotion, deodorant, and damn it, a half day waxing appointment.

  But there wasn’t time for all of that. Edward was ready. I’d been harassing him for days and he’d finally caved. I should have been more proactive in preparing for his potential agreement, but hindsight could kiss my unwaxed ass.

  “You’re welcome to whatever you want in my bathroom.” He cleared his throat as I crawled out of his bed.

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling every shade of lame and awkward I guessed a person could. I wasn’t used to the emotions swirling inside me.

  I wasn’t prone to self-doubt or nervousness or whatever else I was experiencing from thinking about being with Edward in that way. I’d been begging him to agree, and now that he had, I kind of wanted to take back my request.

  Kind of.

  Part of what I felt was excitement, the kind that made vision blurry and heads foggy.

  Scampering into his bathroom, favoring my left ankle, I closed the door, leaned into it, and attempted to regulate my breathing. If I was about to hyperventilate over the thought of having sex with him, what was I going to do when we actually did it?

  I turned on the water in the shower, adjusting the temperature so it was warm but
not hot. I was already overheated without the shower’s help.

  Staring in the mirror, I drummed my fingers across the counter. No big deal, Charlotte. You’re about to be bedded by the future ruler of the country. Just a routine day, nothing to get all worked up over. When my fingers buried into my neck to gauge my pulse, I discovered my reassurances weren’t helping.

  When a soft knock echoed outside the door, I jumped. My ankle didn’t like that.

  “There are extra toothbrushes and toiletries in the cupboard by the shower.” Edward sounded like his usual self, a stark contrast to how I felt.

  “Thanks,” I called, praying that wasn’t the same response I went with when we finished up later.

  Heading to the cupboard he’d mentioned, I was moving with more of a hobble now. The jump, along with the adrenaline, was making my ankle feel like it had grown a heart that was pumping pain from its source. Oh well. The ankle was the least of my worries at this point.

  I was about to get it on with the man on the other side of that door, and I hadn’t shaved a single part of my body in more days than I cared to count.

  When I opened the cupboard, I found an impressive array of toiletry items, ranging from men’s to women’s. For all Edward’s claims that romantic entanglements were prohibited given his position, his stash of emergency overnight supplies insinuated otherwise. Gathering what I needed, I shimmied out of the toga instead of taking the time to undo the knots, then I jumped into the shower.

  I was naked inside Prince Edward’s personal shower.

  As nausea-inducing as that was, it had nothing on the reminder that Prince Edward was about to be naked inside me sometime soon. The shaver swiped double time.

  “Did you find everything you needed?” Edward called through the door as I was rinsing out my shampoo.

  “Yeah,” I replied, squeezing a mess of conditioner into my palm. “Thanks.” My teeth ground.

  “Do you think I’ve got time to grab another cup of coffee? Or are you going to be finishing up soon?” How he could sound so perfectly calm was infuriating. Especially when I felt so perfectly frantic.

  “I’ll still be a while,” I replied, madly combing the conditioner through my tangled hair. “Get another cup of coffee. Make breakfast. Go on a walk even. Take your time.”

  It was quiet for so long, I assumed he’d already left to find coffee.

  “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, inflecting innocence.

  “You know what I mean. Are you chickening out now that I called your bluff?”

  My eyes narrowed at the door as I squeezed a dab of toothpaste onto my new toothbrush. Normally I wouldn’t brush my teeth in the shower, but desperate times and all.

  “I already told you. I don’t chicken out,” I shouted above the shower. “And I wasn’t bluffing either.”

  There was a moment’s pause. “Good.”

  My toothbrush picked up its pace. Maybe I was chickening, a little, but I couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to call me out on it. And I hadn’t been bluffing when I asked him to be my sex practice partner—that sounded all kinds of wrong now—but a part of me wished I had been.

  The other, less-inhibited part said to hell with bluffing.

  I’d finished brushing my teeth and was setting the toothbrush on one of the marble shelves lining one of the corners of the shower when I accidently stepped on the razor, snapping it in half. I gave a little cry when the sharp edges poked my foot, which resulted in me stumbling backward and tripping over the slew of products I’d dragged into the shower with me.

  Of the number of times I’d fallen on my ass, this was one of the more graceful occurrences. My ego had taken the brunt of it as I glared at the broken razor.

  “Everything okay? Charlotte?” Edward hollered through the door, but before I had a chance to assure him I was all right, I heard the door bang open. “What happened?”

  “I’m fine!” I screeched, grabbing the washcloth and using it to cover as much of myself as one teensy square of terrycloth was capable.

  “Is that why you’re on the floor?” He opened the shower door and took one step inside, clearly not paying any attention to the accosted look on my face. Through the steam, his eyes went from one bottle to the next, the loofah to the busted razor. “And why does the shower look like a crime scene?”

  “What are you doing!” I shouted, flailing my hand at the shower door. “I’m naked!”

  One of his dark brows lifted. “You do realize how ridiculous that sounds right? That the girl who’s been harassing me for over a week to have practice sex with her is the same one shrieking about averting my eyes when she’s in the shower?”

  I adjusted the washcloth when I noticed how little it was covering, not that he was outright gawking at me as one might expect. He seemed more concerned with my ankle and the state of the shower than the fact that I was naked save for one white washcloth.

  “Is there a reason you’re still standing there?” I asked, blinking at him through the haze of steam.

  Edward’s shower wasn’t like the other showers I’d been in, or that most people were used to. It was the size of a small room and had showerheads coming out of every wall and the ceiling. So he wasn’t standing right on top of me, but it felt like he was, a few meters of distance making no difference at all.

  “Is there a reason you’re still lying there?” His eyes stayed on me, though they never wandered below my neck.

  “I’m waiting for you to leave.”

  “And I’m waiting for you to get up.”

  I splashed some water in his direction, but it didn’t come close to reaching him. “Please. I am not standing up in front of you buck naked.”

  His gaze shifted to my ankle, concern drawing into his forehead.

  “My ankle’s fine.”

  “Maybe. But you wouldn’t admit if it wasn’t.”

  When he started to come closer and I gave a little shriek, he lifted his hands. “My eyes and hands will wander nowhere other than your ankle, I swear.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, shifting the washcloth lower. “Fine. But if you break your promise, the whole world’s going to know Prince Edward broke a promise.”

  “That would make for a good headline. ‘Woman who begged, bribed, and coerced man into having sex with her for the sake of experience is outraged he barged into the shower to check on her after she fell. Over a razor.’” He fought a smile when he noticed the broken razor a few feet away.

  I exhaled. “You’re annoying.”

  “So are you,” he fired back as he took my injured ankle in his hands. “Does this hurt?” Splatters of water dotted his face, clear globes falling into his dark eyelashes.

  My throat moved as I watched him examine my ankle with the kind of concern that made my chest tighten.

  “No,” I answered when his eyes roamed back to mine.

  Whatever he found in them made his whole expression change.

  My arm slowly slid away from my chest. Instead of my heart picking up its pace, it seemed to slow, to steady. When Edward’s eyes lowered, the ridge of his jaw pressing through his skin, my heart slowed again.

  It was counterintuitive, but it was as though being with Edward—giving in to my feelings for him—made everything come into focus. Being with him centered my world, instead of further scattering it.

  He lifted my ankle, his hand slipping down the inside of my calf. “Does this hurt?” His breath was warm against my skin before he kissed my ankle.

  My head shook. “No.”

  His kisses deepened. “This?”

  His tongue circled my ankle, making my head fall back. If this was how he could make me feel by touching the outside of my left ankle, I couldn’t imagine what he could make me feel when he made love to me.

  I slid the washcloth off of me, extending my hand toward him.

  He carefully lowered my ankle then reached for my hand. His eyes met mine. “Now now?”
/>   I smiled, pulling him closer.

  The shower rained down on him, soaking his clothes and hair, steam curling between our bodies. My mouth connected with his at the same time my hands grappled with the hem of his shirt—trying to remove it or rip it, I wasn’t sure.

  “Wait.” His word rumbled against my lips as he leaned back. “Just let me look at you for a minute.”

  “You’ve been looking at me ever since you charged into the shower.”

  “I’ve been looking at you as one human being concerned for the other’s well-being.” He slid his wet hair back from his forehead, blinking away water. “Now I want to look at you as a man who’s about to make love to a woman.”

  I went to swallow, but I seemed to have forgotten how. All involuntary functions experienced the same momentary glitch as Edward’s eyes roamed me, missing nothing, rushing nothing.

  I’d never had anyone stare at me the way he was. Naked. Exposed. I’d never guessed I would feel so comfortable having it happen . . . almost empowered. If a man like him could look at me the way he was, then I must have been something pretty damn fantastic.

  “Finished?” My fingers curled into the bottom of his shirt.

  His head barely shook. “Never.”

  He raised his arms for me to wrestle his wet shirt off of him finally. When I threw it across the shower, it rattled the glass door before hitting the floor with a wet slap.

  “But I can still admire you from the view up above.” His smile touched my lips when he leaned in to kiss me, his body pushing into mine. When I fell back, his arms were there to catch me, placing my back on the tile floor as he crawled over me, one leg wedging between mine.

  The floor was hard against me, Edward’s body solid above me. I was pinned between two inflexible objects, yet I didn’t feel trapped. I felt safe. I felt free.

  He kissed me how he had last night when he’d pulled me into the dark with him, his grip on control slipping. His hands explored the shape of my breasts, an urgency in his grip that had my legs opening, my hips tipping to meet him.

  I was ready. Past ready.

  But perhaps the truer statement was that I was ready for him.

  “Your pants,” I gasped, when his finger circled my nipple.