Page 36 of Scandal Queen

Once they’d left, I walked back to our apartment by myself. Oliver sprawled on the sofa in a very un-princely way.

“Did Daisy get Queen nabbed?” He asked, rolling himself up, proving what those abs he maintained were for—not rolling to his side like an upside down ladybird like I would.

“Yes. Did you know about that?”

He pitched his head to the side as if thinking. “No, but I guessed as much. Mum loves children; it’s why she’s always on at me to get married and produce an heir.”

Ah… there’s that word again.

I flinched almost automatically.

“Are you allergic to the word marriage?” His eyebrow rose with his question and I wanted to hide under the rug in the middle of the room.

“No.”

“But?”

“Well, Oliver. We’ve been together a few weeks, most of which has been in secret. We broke up, then got back together again. I think if we were to get down to the nitty gritty we could count our dates on one hand.” I held my hand up to stop him interrupting. “And by the way, making out on my sofa doesn’t really count. Then suddenly here we are, the press are camped outside the palace gates, and your family are working out how to turn me into a princess everyone will love, all so you can marry me… eventually, when the points are high enough.” I heaved a breath.

He stalked towards me, his eyes burning. My stomach tightened at his determined approach. “Tell me.” His voice pitched softly. “If you met me at the pub and we had a few outstanding dates. Things were getting deep, you thought you were in love with me, but it seemed too crazy, too spontaneous. But then one day I told you that I didn’t want to be with anyone ever again, except for you. That I wanted to breathe and live with you, to never have a morning when I didn’t wake with you, that in every single moment, you made the life I’d been given infinitely better just by being you. How would you have reacted?”

My heart. It ached and pulled. I rubbed at my chest. Don’t you dare cry.

“I’d have been swept away with your words.”

“So I stand here, and I say the same. I can’t face tomorrow without you. I don’t want to. I’m a prince; people have been making plans for me since the day I came into existence, but those don’t mean a thing. Not really. Tomorrow, my mother will tell you to never wear jeans in public, to always keep your jewellery discreet during the day. Marcus will tell us next week that we’ve gone up three points in public opinion, but we’ve got a way to go. None of that, not one bit of it, changes a damn thing about how I feel about you, or who I know you are to me in my heart.”

“Okay.” I grabbed him pulling him tight to my chest, linking my fingers behind his head. “I get it.”

“I’ve said enough?”

I touched my lips to his, letting go of all my worries and concerns, taking the moment for everything that it was. A woman and a man who may just love each other to insanity and back.

Nine

“Ugh, what’s that noise?” I pulled the duvet up and screwed my eyes as tightly shut as I could.

Oliver stretched his foot, hooking it through mine. “It’s my alarm, I’m going for a run. You fancy it?”

I popped open an eye. “Ugh. No.”

“It’s a great way to start the day.”

I ogled his handsome sleep-smudged face—definitely my favourite look—and shook my head. “Running is a pastime for losers.”

“Am I a loser now?”

“Yes, a royal one.”

Rolling, he caught my wrists in his hands and lifted them over my head. My nipples stood to attention with anticipation; the sheer camisole I’d put on for modesty last night did nothing to hide them.

Smirking a little, Oliver dropped his head, brushing his lips over my collarbone, then across my chest, while I strained for him to take his lips where I wanted them—one of my nipples between his teeth. “A royal loser?”

His lips trailed around the swell of my right boob, brushing against the silk of my top.

“No, not a loser.” I squeezed my legs tight together as heat burned as hot as coals. Noticing the movement, his fingers reached down and ran up my thigh, easing my legs apart and running over the material of my shorts. I groaned as his lips continued to brush maddeningly around the edge of my pebbled nipple, while his hand stroked firm passes over my core.

“Oliver.” I tried to stretch up, but he had me captured in his grasp while his free hand punished and teased.