Dirty Royal: A Bad Boy Royal Romance (3 page)

My chest tightened as he let the silence hang between us. He was the only one who could blow my cover to my father before my little getaway even got started. I had just resigned myself to booking a suite in the hotel when he spoke, jabbing his index finger at the center of my chest.

“You’ll check in every day with me.
In person.
”

“Agreed!” I consented quickly, holding both my hands up. “Agreed. I’ll be here every day to check in with you until we leave.”

“Not more than two weeks.”

I opened my mouth to tell him that as a prince of Saintland I would be making the decisions, but at the last moment thought better of it. We could cross that bridge when we came to it.

“Anything else, best friend of mine?” I said, giving him a charming grin.

He scowled in return. “Yeah,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

My spirits are high when I unlock the door to my rented apartment and take a glance around. It’s spotlessly clean with modern furniture, chrome and white as far as the eye can see. This could be any wealthy man’s apartment. I’m sure the women I bring back here over the course of this vacation will think it fits me perfectly.

I’m truly alone for the first time in years, and I flop down on the plush leather sofa, stretching my arms above my head, relishing it.

For about a minute.

Then it starts to make me feel a little on edge.

I brush the thought away. I’ve served my mandatory year in the volunteer corps like everyone else in Saintland. I know how to be alone, for God’s sake.

Anyway, I came here for two reasons. I’ve achieved one of them so far.

To get started on the second, I pull my phone from my pocket and open the most popular hookup app in the world. I used the free Wi-Fi on the flight over to create a profile that wouldn’t give away any politically sensitive details, anything that might hint at my true identity. It went live while I was still over the Atlantic.

I haven’t had the app open thirty seconds when it pings and my heart leaps with anticipation.

It positively
pounds
when I click on the message button and see the profile picture of the woman who has summoned me for a date tonight.

She’s a goddamn knockout. Auburn hair. Full lips. Fuck-me eyes.

Hello, New York.

Chapter 5

Jessica

I stand at the bar at the back of the Bystander and force myself not to sway from side to side as I wait.

I got here too early.

We planned our meet-up in a series of minimalist texts, like too many words would fuck things up. Who knows? Maybe they would.

Name the place!

It took only seconds for the ideal spot to appear in my mind. The Bystander is a place I used to frequent when I went to Columbia. It’s a little rougher than the places I went with Christian and Carolyn when they would visit, and it’s about a thousand rungs below the Purple Swan, but it’s comfortable and always busy on Friday night, which makes it perfect for my purposes.

Our
purposes.

I’d written:

The Bystander. Do you know it?

I will soon ;)

My heart beat faster at that little wink. Who knows why that simple little emoji made me react that way? It’s probably a standard symbol for every guy trawling the app.

When’s good?

I bit my lip.
Play it cool, Reeves, play it cool.

9:30?

I’ll be there!

Look for me

I’m looking for him now.

The bartender makes another sweep toward me. “Drink, miss?”

It’s the second time he’s asked me. I turned him down when I got here fifteen minutes ago in case Mystery Man wanted to buy me my first drink, but now the nerves are getting to me.

Nerves. Me!

All based on a single photo of a guy on a dating app.

I take in a deep breath though my nose and exhale out my mouth, tapping my fingers on the worn surface of the bar. “Sure. Yeah,” I say to the bartender, who has waited patiently for me to make up my damn mind. That probably has a lot to do with the fact that I look goddamn amazing tonight. As soon as Mystery Man’s final reply came in, agreeing to meet me at 9:30 at the Bystander, I’d tossed my phone onto the table by my purse and run to the shower, emerging ninety minutes later wearing my favorite dating outfit, my hair blown out straight and shining, and
just
enough makeup. “A 7 and 7. Go light on the Seagram’s, though.” What with the stress of the day and the fact I was too excited to eat a full dinner, I’ll need to be a little conservative if I want to have my wits about me when he finally arrives.

The bartender slides the drink across the bar to me. I take a sip, the warmth of the liquid competing with the chill that had suddenly started blooming in my gut.

What if he doesn’t show?

This kind of shit is exactly why I stopped using this kind of app, adopted the rule, and left the random hookups in the past. I remember now. All those rude rejections that shouldn’t affect me but did—and do—anyway. Even after years of convincing myself to accept that I’ll never fully understand how the lives of my closest friends work, it hasn’t totally tempered the sting when someone stands me up.

It’s what makes hanging out with Christian so convenient. His invites are a guarantee.

I take another sip of my drink, a bigger one this time, to quell my fear, and then casually turn to glance toward the front of the bar.

The entire world slams into slow motion.

It sounds cliché as hell, like some bullshit out of the movies, but that’s exactly what happens when I see him, moving confidently through the crowd, the smile on his face self-assured and sexy. The plain t-shirt he wears is tight on his muscular form, but not too tight—this is a man who knows how to dress himself, and the cut of his jeans does him all kinds of favors.

It’s him.

Holy fuck, he’s
hot
. The picture didn’t do him justice. The picture didn’t tell me how the sharp line of his jaw would look in the multicolored lights bouncing around the bar, the darker shadows emphasizing the chiseled lines of his face. The picture didn’t tell me that he would move like a jaguar, power barely contained in the frame of his body, each movement somehow sensual and strong at the same time.

He’s coming right toward me.

I resist the urge to look behind me, because this man—sex on two legs, an angel ripped from the pages of
GQ
but without the high fashion—cannot possibly want to spend time with me. Next to him, I might as well be dressed in sweats, my hair tossed up into a messy bun, half-asleep.

Heads turn toward him as he approaches, but he never stops.

I can feel my pulse pounding loudly in my ears.

Then he’s closing the final gap between us, and I suck in a breath.

“Hey,” he says, looking down at me, his green eyes lit from within by excitement. “You’re Jessica0607?”

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely, and at the sound of his voice—smooth, deep, fucking gorgeous—my panties are even damper than they were a moment ago when I first laid eyes on him. “It’s not the most creative name, but it works for the Internet.” I swallow hard. “You’re AlecToday?”

He laughs, a beautiful sound, his eyes locked on mine. Women are still eyeing him from all around the bar, but he doesn’t turn his attention away from me.

I’m not a flighty woman. Yeah, I might pick up and move more often than the average person, but I’m not the kind of girly-girl who has to fan herself whenever a hottie walks by.

Or at least I wasn’t.

“That’s me. But you can call me Alec.”

“Jessica,” I answer.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. All of me feels ablaze, and he hasn’t even touched me yet. He just looks into my eyes, then runs his fingers through his hair. The next moment, his face breaks into a half-smile that sends pure lust rocketing down my spine, landing in the space between my legs.

Whoa, Jess,
I tell myself sternly.
Don’t even think about breaking the rule for this guy. You don’t even know him!

My irritating inner voice is drowned out by Alec’s deep, smooth voice.

“Well, Jessica,” he says, and for the first time I register his British accent. “Can I start by buying you a drink?”

The suggestion in his voice sweeps me away. This is where it starts…but not where it ends.

Chapter 6

Alec

Even from across the bar, she’s incredible.

The black skinny jeans hugging the curve of her ass, the kitten heels giving her just a little extra height, the lacy black halter top that gives me a goddamn amazing view of the curve of her shoulders and arc to her collarbone—the ensemble works for her like you wouldn’t believe.

Her body is perfection, lithe with delicate curves, and her face knocks me out: big expressive blue eyes that track my every motion as I navigate the crowd, full lips that part slightly when she notices me watching her as closely as she’s watching me.

But what I see is nothing compared to what I feel standing a foot and a half away from her, leaning in close to be heard over the din of the bar.

A assured confidence radiates off of her, but there’s a hint of uncertainty there, too, that I find absolutely irresistible.

The only thing that saves me from turning into a quivering mess of nerves in front of her is the years and years of practice I’ve had in the public eye. I silently thank my asshole father for insisting that we get lots of experience in front of crowds, because my heart is racing a million miles an hour just looking at her, but I don’t let my anxiety show on my face.

“Hey,” I say, looking down into her wide eyes. Standing this close, I can see that they’re a startling shade of blue, a rich blue that reminds me of deep water. “You’re Jessica0607?” Her username on the dating app was startlingly innocuous for the most gorgeous woman on the planet.

“Yeah,” she answers, an easy smile forming on her face. “It’s not the most creative name, but it works for the Internet.” She swallows and then bites at her lower lip before continuing, leaning toward me so that she can speak into my ear. “You’re AlecToday?”

It’s not until it comes out of her mouth that I realize what a goddamn stupid username it is, but what else can I do but play it cool? I laugh like it doesn’t matter, because in the face of this incredible beauty, almost nothing else does.

“That’s me. But you can call me Alec.”

“Jessica.”

Her eyes are locked on mine. There’s a slight hitch in her breath. Exhilaration zings through my entire body, from my spine to my fingertips, and I know instantly that there’s something different about her.

Whether that’s good or bad remains to be seen.

For now, I have to get to know her a little more.

Maybe a lot more.

“Well, Jessica,” I say, and her lips quirk in a smile like she’s hearing me speak for the first time. “Can I start by buying you a drink?”

“Start?” she says, a sly grin lighting up her face. “You can start with that. But I hope our night ends with something a little more exciting.”

My breath catches in my throat, and my cock jumps to attention, just from the way the word “exciting” rolls off her tongue.

It only takes a single drink for both of us to settle in, but during that time, the sparks that flew between us when I was walking across the bar toward her have accelerated into an inferno. I’m happy to let it burn me alive.

It starts when she lingers next to my ear and says the word “exciting” like she’s devouring a hard candy made from possibility and lust. Her hot breath on my neck has my cock twitching blatantly inside the cage of my jeans.

Then, Jessica banishes any uncertainty she was feeling by taking control of the situation. That’s a new experience for me. I can’t say I hate it.

When she leans away, she looks back up into my eyes and seems to make a decision. “Let’s keep it to first names, okay?”

It’s not really a question. “Agreed.”
Perfect
, I think.
She’ll never know my true identity, and I can move on in the morning.
A little voice in the back of my mind disagrees with this pact, but I shove it aside. Now that Jessica is so close to me—and even hotter than her profile picture suggested, which is pretty fucking hot—I want her lips on mine.

I want her body on mine.

I want….

We’re crammed close together by the bar crowd, and I feel the electricity crackling between us as she sips the cocktail I bought her—something sweet I didn’t catch the name of—and answers each of my questions with just enough information to leave me tantalized and wanting her even more.

“Is this your favorite bar?” I ask, taking the opportunity to slip my arm around her waist. She doesn’t resist my advance and instead smiles up at me.

“Now it is.”

“What was it before?”

“What’s it matter, Mystery Man?”

“I want to know all about you.”

“There are better ways to do that.”

“Like what?”

She turns in my arm and steps an inch closer.

“There are lots of ways to get to know a person. It doesn’t even have to be in a bar.”

“No? Where’s your favorite place to get to know someone?” Her smile is the embodiment of sheer seduction, even though she’s making sure we’ll never truly get to know each other by limiting her answers to my questions.

“My bedroom,” she says, her voice low and husky.

“And what do you do there to get to know someone new?” Holy Jesus, do I ever want this woman, this vixen, this queen.

“Compare Netflix queues.”

We both burst out laughing. She is so stunning that when she stops laughing, I lean down, cup her face in my hands, and cover her mouth with mine, tasting the sweetness of her drink on her lips and her raging desire on her tongue.

Our kiss is electric. She moans into my mouth, pressing her body against mine, and I taste her one more time before breaking away. Her hand grips my wrist tightly, as if I might disappear unless she holds me in place, as I fumble for my wallet, pull out a pile of bills, and toss them onto the bar. Then I’m leading her out of the bar by the hand as fast as we can go.