Page 19 of Reign of the Queen
When Jessie reaches me, I grab onto his hand, intertwining our fingers, before pulling him into the house. I start with the main floor: kitchen, formal living room, dining room, two guest bedrooms, my mom’s office, the sitting room, library, theater room, in-house gym, and the den. I make quick work of all those spaces, so we don’t linger in any one room. Jessie’s mouth seems to want to unhinge his jaw with how stunned he is going from room to room. Everything in my house is done in shades of cream, browns, and gray with navy accents.
Dragging him up the glass and chrome stairs to the second floor, one of his hands lingers on my lower back as we climb the stairs, and I feel a pleasant warming of my skin at the contact. Up here, two wings split off from the main landing.
The west wing holds three more guest rooms with individual en-suites and my mom’s massive primary bedroom that has its own sitting room attached. The east wing contains my over-excessive primary bedroom, complete with an enormous walk-in closet, sitting area, small kitchenette, and a full spa bathroom that, according to my grandmother, “Is a place for relaxation and making one’s face up.” I’m pretty sure my grandmother doesn’t know the meaning of the word “restraint,” and I know I benefit from that as I’m one of her few favorite, living people.
My room is decorated in all navy blues, creams, and grays. The actual bedroom has a massive custom king-size bed with an oversized fabric headboard made of the softest gray velvet fabric. Tons of pillows cover the bed’s surface with cream and navy bed linens. Overindulgent and dramatic, just like my grandmother demanded for her Stratford princess granddaughter.
Turning around to glance at Jessie to see his reaction; his eyes are so large that they look like they might fall out of his head. That was my reaction when I first saw the house, too, especially my wing. Grandmother certainly spared no expense.
“This is...your room?” He stares around in disbelief, his hand making its way into his hair. “That’s one big bed for such a small girl.” He smirks, eyebrows wagging.
I pull him in the direction of the sitting area because I’m not comfortable with hanging out in the actual bedroom space. I drag him to the sofa, he stumbles hard, and because I’m still holding onto him, I go down with him and land sprawled over him. He lets out a small grunt as I land with an elbow on his chest, digging into his ribs.
Once I adjust myself and get off of him, he smirks up at me. “Think I preferred you the other way.” His eyebrows waggle playfully again, and we both chuckle.He really is cute.
“Yeah, well, we can’t always get what we want.” I say before turning away and grabbing the remote for the wall-mounted massive television.
“Oh, I don’t know…I think you could probably get whatever you want.” Jessie glances around the room and gives me a slow, full-body perusal. The look is filled with heat and makes my core clench tight.Damn, I might actually get to enjoy this game in more ways than one.
I don’t bother to answer him. If he only knew what my life used to be like, he would know right away how fortunate I am now—what a metamorphosis my life has endured over the last few years.
“Mom, the roof is leaking again!” I scream down at my mom, who’s lying dead to the world on the ratty sofa of our one-bedroom, run-down shack. I look around at our shabby furniture, some so worn you can see the frame right through the material. Our dingy walls used to be a shade of white, but now, from years of built-up cigarette smoke, moisture, and just wear, they’re a dirty, dingy gray with mold growing in different spots; no matter how many times we clean them the mold keeps coming right back.
“Put a bucket under it, Amelia. I don’t have the energy or the money, doll.” My mom opens her tired eyes to slits. She’s still wearing her dirty apron from her second job at the diner, her beautiful dark hair is barely being restrained in the stretched-out elastic band she has wrapped around it.
An instant sadness fills me when I look at her; she is so beautiful. She could be a model, but she’s so tired and run down by this life that we are living. Having to support herself and an eleven-year-old all alone hasn’t been easy. She works all day at the prep middle school in the back-kitchen area as a glorified kitchen lady and then at the local diner for a few hours at night just so she can make enough so we can barely eat and keep our heads above water.
Pretty sure this wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. Getting knocked-up in her last year of high school and having to drop out to take care of me while my bio dad ran around on her wasn’t what she dreamed of…
I give myself a quick mental shake.Come on Amelia, get it together; you brought him here for a specific reason. Get it done; quit being a whiny bitch.Glancing over at Jessie, I realize he’s endearing, like a friendly puppy that you just want to cuddle and keep safe.I could do worse. I have, in fact, done worse in the past.The image of a male with white-blond hair trying to make an appearance. I give my head a shake; no need to relive that crap right now either.
Shifting closer to him on the sofa, I let my fingers lightly ghost over the skin of his arm. He’s rolled his school dress shirt up past his elbows; the exposed skin has light brown hairs and a black and white tattoo of birds in flight. His chest rises with a sudden intake of breath, and goosebumps break out over his arms from my touch. He’s assessing me from below hooded eyes, his jaw clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to decide what to do.
He reaches over with his other arm and pulls me toward him. His hand trails up the back of my neck, fingers tangling in the hair at my nape and pulling me slowly toward him. I go willingly, draping my upper body across his. Just before my face reaches his, he stops and stares at me. His eyes are full of heat, and what I think might be confusion or, at the very least, uncertainty.
“You know I like you, right Mia?” Eyes fixed on my lips, he trails his tongue out to wet his own.
I bite my lower lip, causing a slight groan to escape his lips. “I like you too, Jessie,” I reply in an almost whisper, and although I’m doing this whole thing to mess with the kings, I know at least it’s not a complete lie. I do like him, he’s been nothing but sweet to me, in another time and place, maybe—just maybe—I could have genuinely fallen for someone like him.
He doesn’t hesitate any further, bringing his face closer to mine. The pressure from his fingers at my nape pulls me toward his mouth. Firm lips skate over mine; the barest of touches, just a mere whisper of his lips over mine. A little breath escapes me and I shift closer, my lips meeting his with no pressure, allowing him the decision whether to deepen the kiss or not.
One, two, and three pecks come in succession, then he licks the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. Parting my lips, I grant him what he’s asking for. His tongue slips in tentatively, coming out to intertwine with mine. The kiss is slow, unpracticed, and sweet, our tongues stroking and intertwining. His other hand softly caresses my lower back with just a slight brush of his palm and fingers. Very innocent, nothing practiced or hurried.
I slowly drape more of my body across his so he can increase the pressure of the kiss. He takes it as the sign that it is and pulls more of me across his lap. His fingers are splayed at my lower back, applying pressure on my upper body, causing it to inch forward. The force of his lips increases, and our tongues intertwine quicker with each other, a deep masculine moan escapes his mouth and has heat rising inside of me. His hard erection in his lap digs into me. The kiss goes from sweet and innocent to hot and passionate.
He moves his lips away from my mouth, trailing open-mouth kisses down my jaw to my neck. I lean my head back so he can reach more of my neck, desire coiling around my core and dampening my panties. The hand on my back continues its movement of exploring but with less hesitation. He lets out a little groan at the juncture of my neck and collarbone, leaving small love bites I know will mark and kisses in his wake. The scruff of his facial hair rubs along my sensitive skin, adding to my heightened senses and pebbling my nipples. His other hand strokes up the side of my rib cage in the direction of my breast. Just before he gets there, I pull back. I don’t want this to get out of hand too quickly. I’m starting to lose control of the situation, my mind fogging over with desire.
Putting some space between our bodies, I let my eyes trail over him. His eyes are hooded and dilated, a pink flush on his cheeks, despite the bruising left there from the fight, his mouth is pouty and swollen from our kissing. Giving him a tentative smile, I run my hand lightly through his hair, gently letting my nails scrape his scalp. Another shallow breath and a deep sexy groan leave his mouth. It almost has me changing my mind about not going any farther with him, my core clenching at the sound.
Taking my other hand and intertwining our fingers, he carefully brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses each of my knuckles. His other hand does slow, sensual laps up and down my lower back to my hip and reversing course. Jessie’s eyes never leave mine, their gaze filled with sensual heat. I wish I felt more than simply shallow attraction for him, don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kisser, good-looking, and gentle.What more could a girl need?
Passion and uncontrollable hot desire, I guess. Hot as fuck, melt your clothes off, scream into the wind, lose your mind, passion. I want to be intoxicated with it and lose all rational thought. So engulfed in desire that I lose myself completely. Unfortunately, he just doesn’t bring that out in me, and I am not sure anyone ever will, but I’m hoping someone out there does one day.Maybe I’ve been reading one too many romance novels.
“Why?” he suddenly asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid of the answer. He’s watching my features intently for my reaction.
I raise an eyebrow and pull farther away, adjusting my body so I’m no longer draped across his chest. Guilt returns as a reminder that I don’t want this with him, he is just a chess piece I am moving on the board. “Why, what?”
“Why am I here, Mia? Don’t get me wrong, you’re a knockout, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else given the opportunity, but I don’t think you’re feeling me like I’m feeling you.” His lips thin into a straight line, and his eyes narrow.
