Page 568 of Summer Heat
Daisy
I was exhausted, but it felt so good. I felt so good.
We’d been in bed for so long, been tangled in the sheets, our bodies sweaty, sated.
And still I knew I’d never get enough.
I was sprawled on the bed, my chest rising and falling as I tried to catch my breath.
“Hey,” he said, his voice thick with the post arousal we’d just shared.
I turned to face him the smile on my face unstoppable. “Hey,” I responded softly. The thought that I may be embarrassed by what we’d shared wasn’t lost on me, but all I felt was elation … completion.
I looked him in the eyes. “Where do we go from here?”
He was silent for a second but kept me close. “I
tell the world you’re mine.”
Chapter Eight
Lennon
I knew exactly what my mother and father wanted to speak to me about, so instead of pretending like this would be smooth sailing, I headed toward the dining room where they were eating breakfast.
My thoughts, however, were focused on Daisy, who still slept in my bed, the sheets tangled around her nude, perfect body. All I could think about was what we had done the night before, of the way she felt, smelled, and the sounds she made when I was deep inside of her.
I enter the dining hall, the grand windows open, and the sun streaming in. My mother and father sat at the table, papers strewn out in front of them. My brother and sister sat at the other end of the table, clearly knowing what this was about and not looking pleased. My brother, the next in line for the Crown, had always been very regal, taking the royal family tradition to heart. I on the other hand was the fuck up of the family, the disappointment.
I stood there, not starting the conversation, just staring at my father and waiting for him to declare what an unfit son I was, how I’d brought shame to the family, and so on. He glanced up at me, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes, which were the same shade as mine, staring at me with this curiosity and sternness.
I straightened my back, waiting to get this over with so I could go back to Daisy.
My father finally folded the paper and turned it around so the front page was facing me. “I'll start off by asking when exactly did you leave last night, and why didn't you have an escort?”
“I'm not a child, and don't need a guard everywhere I go. I can handle myself.” I felt my blood pressure starting to rise. I saw the way he glanced at my split lip. I was a twenty-five year old man, and although I wasn't as traditional as my brother and sister, I did try my best not to embarrass the family. But of course a situation such as this, where I wanted, needed, to defend Daisy, made it so I didn't care about anything else.
“To be honest, Lennon, I don't even care about the fact you were caught fighting at a pub and it was recorded for all to see.” My father set the paper down and removed his glasses, his gaze stern as he took me in. “What I'm more curious about is the young lady that you have in your bedroom right now.”
Every protective bone in my body went on alert. I wanted to deny it, not because I didn't want to admit I had Daisy in my room, but because I wanted to protect her from any kind of speculation that might arise from being with me.
“Who I have my room is no one's concern about myself.” I shouldn't have been speaking to my father this way, the King and ruler over our small country, but when it came to Daisy I wanted her protected from everyone, even my family. And to be honest, my family could be the harshest critics of all.
“Darling,” my mother said her sweet, regal voice. “There are many women to choose from. There’s no need to go out for the help.”
I should've just bit my tongue, and not said anything in response. I wanted to sit down and talk to them, explain how I felt for Daisy, that she was more than just a servant. But I was getting angry and wanting to defend the woman that I cared about … the woman that I loved.
“Her name is Daisy and she's not the help.” My back was so straight it was starting to ache, and my hands were so tightly curled in a fist my nails dug into my palms.
My father lifted in the dark eyebrow. “Not the help? Is she not an employee of the Royal house?”
My heart was thundering. “No, she’s not the help.”
“Then what is she?” my father challenged.
I knew what I was about to say would be picked apart until it was just bare bones and raw flesh. “She’s the woman I love.”
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