The Controversial Princess

  I walk into the open space of the penthouse, finding everyone sitting around the huge table, and they all fall silent when they detect my presence. “Don’t stop on my account,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat.

  Josh moves back in his chair and pats his lap, and I walk over, placing myself there without question, handing him my phone. “It refuses to stop ringing.”

  He takes it and passes it over to his publicist. “You should take over this.”

  She nods sharply. “Your code?”

  Josh laughs, and I frown at him. “She’d better write that down for you.” He picks up a pen and places it in my hand, pulling a piece of paper forward. I scribble down my code for Tammy and then relax back into the warmth of Josh’s body.

  “So,” I say perkily, “have you figured out how you’re going to deal with my delightful family?”

  My question prompts a few smiles from around the table, all genuine, one woman looking a little star-struck. “I can’t believe I’m sitting at a table with Princess Adeline of England.”

  Tammy throws her a scornful look, and I smile at her. “I’m not as important as they make out I am, believe me.”

  “You’re third in line to the British throne, ma’am,” Tammy reminds me. “That makes you pretty important to us mere mortals.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Josh kids, bumping me on his knee. “To me, she is simply my girlfriend and the woman I love, and I’m tired of keeping that under wraps. So what now?”

  I smile on the inside, snuggling deeper into him.

  Tammy looks almost grave. “We go public before we go to them,” she says, pushing some notes toward me. “A press release. Once it’s out there, it’s out there. There’s nothing the Royals can do. It’ll be our words, not those of a journalist. Just a simple statement telling the world you’re dating.”

  “Just dating?” I ask, pressing my lips together cheekily. “Because . . . ouch!” I jump on Josh’s lap when he pokes me in a rib, and everyone around the table laughs. It makes me feel somewhat better surrounded by normal people. People who haven’t got sticks buried in their arses. “Okay, dating,” I relent. “If you must insist.”

  Josh chuckles, burying his nose in my hair. “I love you.”

  “Stop. You’re making everyone blush.”

  He corrects his position, straight and focused. “When is this statement being released?”

  “Tomorrow,” Tammy answers promptly.

  “Why not now?” I counter immediately, tomorrow feeling like eons away. The royal aides will be hatching a plan as we speak. The less time we give them to do that the better.

  Tammy casts her eyes around the table, a Mexican wave-type shrug thing going on. “So we send it out tonight,” she agrees.

  “You sure?” Josh asks me, encouraging me around on his lap. Looking straight into my eyes, he speaks clearly and concisely. Determinedly. “I’m ready, Adeline. I’d be out on the street this very second shouting it to everyone I see, but I need to know you’re ready, too.”

  Where’s this doubt come from? Haven’t I proven my commitment? “I’ve been ready for weeks.”

  He nods, sharp and final, as he breathes in, keeping his eyes on mine. “Send it out as soon as it’s ready,” he orders Tammy, standing from his chair and encouraging me with him. “And if we’re done, I’d like some privacy, please.” He dips and throws me up over his shoulder, and I squeal, shocked.

  “Josh!”

  “Goodbye, everyone,” he calls, slapping my arse as he hauls me to a bedroom. I brace my arms into his lower back and look up through my wet strands, my face flaming. Tammy looks utterly exasperated, and the rest of Josh’s team are just laughing to themselves, as if their expression of amusement might be chastised by Josh’s publicist. With all eyes on me, I shrug as best I can in my upside-down position and mouth a sorry as I’m carted away. I’m not sorry at all. I’ve been waiting for this reunion for weeks.

  “I don’t think Tammy approves,” I say to his arse, my feeling palms making the most of their position.

  “Fuck Tammy.” I’m catapulted onto the bed, the feeling of the luxurious bedding only enhancing the sensation of being back in the clouds. “Fuck the Royals.” Josh comes into sight after I’ve brushed my wet tresses from my face, his T-shirt halfway up his torso. “Fuck the public.” It’s cast aside, and his stare, weighted with too much longing for me to comprehend, lands on mine. “And now you are going to fuck me, Your Highness.”

  Bang!

  That was my heart. And my body. And my mind. Everything, blown. Standing before me is home. The first place in my life where I feel I actually belong. Biting my lip, I watch as Josh slowly strips down until my breath is robbed of me, the unfathomable perfection of him bared. My robe is slowly tugged open, the skin of my stomach delicately stroked.

  “Ever wanted something so badly you’d kill for it?” he asks, helping my arms out of the sleeves. I nod, and Josh smiles, his eyes dragging up my legs to my hips. He kisses the sensitive dip there, smiling through his bite of my flesh. Light pecks journey up my tummy to my boobs, and he strokes my nipples with his tongue in turn. “You have completely derailed me, Adeline. I struggle to think past you.”

  My body slowly bows, my eyes closing in utter bliss, Josh all over me. It’s true. Everything pales when we’re together. There are no issues, no problems, nothing to be fixed. It’s just us, our feelings, our devotion . . . our love. Fast, solid love. Nothing can break that. It is literally him and me against the world.

  I reach for his hair and stroke through his dark strands, pushing my flesh into his mouth. I’m floating on air. As free as I have ever felt. Nothing could rival these feelings. No amount of money and no amount of power. This. This is what life is about. These feelings, the feeling of your soul entwining with another’s, melding, blending, coming to together to make one stronger being.

  Pushing himself up, Josh rests on his heels, his lips quirked at each corner, a grin being restrained. “Spread ’em, ma’am.”

  My thighs part in an instant, taking my dignity with them. I couldn’t care less, and Josh’s suppressed grin breaks, lighting up the room. He drops forward, his palms meeting the soft mattress either side of my head, his face suspended above me. “Good little princess.”

  Pure contentment makes my heart swell, my smile the widest it’s probably ever been. “I’ve missed you so much.” Reaching up to his face, I rest my palm on his cheek, feeling his bristle as he rears back and falls to his forearms, our torsos coming together. His slow sink into me is unimaginably measured. I sigh, sliding my hands over his shoulders, the feeling of completeness overwhelming me. For the first time in my existence, I have a purpose. I have Josh, and I have my dreams that can now be a reality.

  Measured movements steal breath after breath, his face so close to mine that I inhale his exhales. His eyes never waiver from mine, his palms holding my neck as he rocks with painstaking precision into me. “Perfect, huh?” he whispers, bringing our mouths together, our lips resting against each other’s.

  “Perfect,” I say, my hips rolling to meet each plunge. This is slow, purposeful lovemaking, and if there was a word that surpassed perfect, it would be that. Our closeness, our connection, the understanding passing between our locked eyes as he moves above me carefully. Our steady heart rates, our slipping skin, our slow rolling tongues. Everything we are and have in this moment is beyond my wildest imagination. Years of bowing to my father as king has made me somewhat intolerant. Inflexible. I don’t need a new lord over me, but I can readily admit that Josh Jameson is my king. Willingly, my king. I can defer to him because I feel secure in his love. His actions speak of adoration and selflessness, and it humbles me to feel I am worthy. I bow to no one except him, and it is easy to do, because I know we will face everything together as equals. He loves me for who I am.

  Pressure swirls in my lower tummy, the soft, velvet feel of him stoking me with perfect friction, directing it all south. I hum into his mouth, my fingers curl
ing into the flesh of his shoulders. “Grip harder,” he mumbles, moving his hands into my wet hair and fisting, as if demonstrating. I follow his order without question, digging my fingernails into his skin, my kiss beginning to get messy. “That’s it.” His hips jolt, his control wavering, too. “Jesus, Adeline, how did I survive before you?”

  I wonder the same thing, my life seeming so bland before Josh waltzed into it. He bites down harshly on my lip, his control slipping further, and pulls away, bracing his impressive torso on rigid arms. His new position gives him more leverage, and he makes the most of it, abandoning his careful plunges and replacing them with brutal pounds. My hands slap into his forearms to support me, my body absorbing each of his hits on a yell. The twist of gratification on his face is like nothing else, his mind lost, his need raw. I’m held captive by the sight, forgetting my own need to let the pleasure claim me. Just seeing him so absorbed in the feel of me is pleasurable enough, watching him lose himself so completely. I want to watch him fall apart, see the orgasm rip through him, hear the sounds of him fighting through the intensity. So I focus on Josh alone, forgetting my own physical pleasure and indulging in the exquisite sight of his instead. I marvel at every incredible second of his mission to find the long-overdue release.

  His cheeks blow out, his eyes wild as they stare at me. “Go,” I order, clawing my nails into his forearms and flexing my hips, taking him to the hilt.

  “You,” he all but gasps, frantic in his pace.

  I shake my head and ensure his temptation to pull back is hindered by moving my hands to his arse and pushing him on. “Go,” I demand again.

  “Oh, fuck, Adeline,” he wheezes, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw pulsing.

  “Open your eyes, Josh.”

  They flip open, the blue swimming. “Damn you, woman.” His thrusts take on a new level of brutal, and he slams his way home on constant barks, his eyes moving back and forth between my face and my bouncing breasts. I know the moment he tips the edge, the feel of him inside of me thickening and pulsing.

  “There it is.” I drag my nails over the rise of his glorious arse and his head drops, sweat dripping from his brow, his body slowing. He comes, and it’s the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, watching him lose all control of his body, everything limp, his arms buckling so he plummets to my front. Hiding his face in my neck, he fights for breath, his hips involuntarily jerking as he empties himself into me, my internal walls dragging on his twitching cock. I smile and lock him in my arms, not in the least bit unfulfilled. “Welcome home,” I whisper, turning my nose into his damp hair and inhaling him into me completely.

  Josh pants, a dead weight spread all over me. My smile widens, my hold tightening. “I love you so much, woman.” He tries to kiss my neck. It’s feeble. And it only makes me even happier. To know how knocked out he is. To feel him touching me everywhere. To sustain his weight. Just to know how close he is.

  “Go to sleep,” I say, feeling my own eyes getting heavy.

  “I need to see to you.” He sounds about ready to do that as I am to release him. Not ready. Ever.

  I hush him and close my eyes, and it is not long before I hear his soft snoring in my ear.

  That’s perfect, too.

  This is the calm before the storm.

  WHEN I OPEN MY EYES the next morning, it’s dusk, a glow from the television illuminating the room. My body is toasty warm, my mind peaceful, and my head is rising and falling in time with Josh’s breathing beneath my cheek. The expanse of his chest is before me, my hand resting on his pec, my leg tossed over his thighs. I crane my neck up, finding him looking down at me, his back resting against the headboard. “You comfy down there?” He dips and gives my head a chaste kiss as my limbs start to involuntarily spread, stretching wonderfully.

  “Oh, God,” I groan, every muscle pulling satisfyingly. “What time is it?”

  “Seven.” He shuffles down the bed, maneuvering my body as he does until we’re on our sides, face to face.

  “Why is the television on?”

  His lips purse, a grin in hiding. “I heard there’s some breaking news on the horizon.”

  The press release. My tummy flutters, part nerves, part excitement, as my eyes divert from Josh to the television where BBC news is Josh’s channel of choice. It’s so utterly ridiculous that two people dating is deemed news worthy. “Do we know when this news might break?”

  “I can’t imagine it’ll be long before the media goes into meltdown.” Placing his hand on my naked hip, he flexes his grip, winning back my attention. “You’re nervous.”

  I’m quick to set him straight. “Mostly, I’m excited. Just to know there will be no more sneaking around. I’m not nervous about the reaction of the world, more the retaliation of my family.”

  Josh smiles, though small and understanding. “We haven’t discussed what will happen once the dust settles.”

  “If it ever settles,” I mumble, taking my praying hands and nestling them under my cheek on the pillow.

  “It will settle.” A little squeeze of my hip is a warning to have a little more faith. “And then we need to think about what happens from there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He rolls his eyes, a little exasperated. “It may have escaped your notice, but I’m not from around these parts.”

  “Oh,” I breathe, feeling a bit silly. The logistics of our relationship haven’t cost me a thought, when it really should have cost me plenty. “Well, clearly you have thought about it.”

  “Not stopped,” he admits unashamedly.

  “And?”

  “And I want you in the States with me. Everywhere with me, actually. Wherever I go, I want you by my side.”

  That sounds just about perfect, even if it is unrealistic. “You realize the logistics of that would be near-on impossible?”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are you and I am me. Not to mention the fact that I am likely to be stripped of all privileges, and that will include my allowances and security.” The consequences of my relationship with Josh don’t bother me in the slightest, but it isn’t until this moment that I have considered the strain it might have on Josh. The financial strain especially, because I sure as hell know that protection doesn’t come cheap. I roll onto my back, feeling myself deflating.

  A low growl rumbles up from his toes, and he’s on me quickly, scowling. “Stop that.”

  “I never—” A firm palm lands over my mouth.

  “One more word out of you, you’ll regret it.” Tilting his head, eyes full of annoyance, he slowly peels his hand away. “Understood?”

  “Understood.” I’m ready to ask exactly how I might regret it—I need details—but I get distracted by the TV. I hear the mention of the Royals, and Josh must catch it too, because he catapults up, facing the screen. My damn heart is in my throat as I sit up, my hand searching for Josh’s to hold. This is it. D-Day, so to speak. The world will know about Josh and me dating.

  But I frown when the scene on the television registers, the journalist not in a TV studio like I would have expected, but outside instead, in what looks like the English countryside. There are no pictures of me or of Josh. It’s the King of England’s face displayed in the top right-hand corner of the screen, on the day of his coronation. What’s going on?

  I sit forward, listening carefully, as the reporter signals behind him. “It’s reported that the helicopter experienced a mechanical fault mid-flight and came down in the fields beyond the trees late last night.” I frown as the camera zooms in on those trees, panning the far side of the field. “The King was on his way back to London from his royal residence in Scotland.” My heart is suddenly a rock in my chest. “He was confirmed dead at the scene.”

  A violent wail saturates the room, and it takes a few confusing seconds for me to realize where it has come from.

  Me.

  “Fuckin’ hell.” Josh grabs me quickly, pushing my shaking body into his chest, shouting above my head. ??
?Tammy!” He gets a robe around me, fastening it loosely before he pulls his boxers on, reclaiming me. “Tammy!”

  I can hear the reporter talking still, telling the world that King Alfred is dead. My father is dead. No. No, that can’t be. It must be a sick hoax. I wrestle my way out of Josh’s hold, my vision hampered by floods of tears. I roughly brush them away, getting to my feet and approaching the television. Josh is behind me quickly, trying to pull my vibrating form back to the bed. I fight him with all I have. “Get off me,” I yell, shoving him away.

  The camera falls back onto the journalist, his face obviously solemn. “The details are sketchy and the crash site cornered off for a mile in every direction,” he goes on. “Not much is clear, only one thing. We’ve lost our King and the world is in mourning.” Shock eats my muscles away, and I drop to my knees before the screen, transfixed by the man who is telling me that my father is dead.

  I hear Josh curse from behind me, helpless, and I hear the door fly open. I cast my bleary gaze across the room, where Tammy has a laptop in her arms, a disturbed look on her face. “Prince John was on board, too.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Josh’s hands go to his hair, and my eyes fall to my lap, darting chaotically. “He can’t have been,” I choke quietly, trying to straighten out my tangled head. Think clearly. “No, it can’t be.”

  Josh joins me on the floor, taking my hands and feeling. “Adeline?”

  “John couldn’t have been on the flight,” I say again, this time clearer, looking across to Tammy. “The Monarch and the Heir Apparent never travel together. For this exact reason.” My hand shoots to the television, though I can’t bring myself to look. “My father would never have broken age-old rules. He was a stickler for rules.” Never would the King have let John travel with him. I just know he wouldn’t.