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I’m especially sorry that our kiss got interrupted. You pressing me up against that wall with your hands in my hair and your weight on my body—I wanted more. I still want more. So if that fl
ing is still on the table…well, I have all kinds of ideas on how we can get started too.
Best,
Ella
* * *
Dear Ella,
I want you in my life. Not to mention in my bed. I can’t stop thinking about our kiss yesterday either, and I can’t stop craving more of you. Up against the wall, out on the hills under the stars, slow and hot in the shower, fast and rough on the floor—anywhere. Everywhere.
So, yes. The fling is definitely still on the table. And I have some ideas for other things that could be done on the table, too.
Let’s meet tonight. I’ll only have a few minutes after meeting with some of the ladies, but I want to spend those minutes with you.
Best,
Phillip
7
Ella stood at the back of the gardens, clutching Phillip’s latest letter, squinting for any sign of the king. Maybe today they would finally get some quality alone time. So far over the course of their secret fling they’d met in a hothouse, the kitchens, and a hidden study, but the security detail or the cooks or some other interfering busybodies were always within view. They hadn’t managed so much as a second kiss, much less had the chance to explore any of the steamier options outlined in their letters. They’d had to keep to their cover—her showing him spreadsheets and charts, detailing which woman would make the best queen. Daphne had already lost interest in the contest for the king, having found a member of the security detail far flirtier, but Ella almost had Phillip convinced that Anna would make the best match.
Which was a good thing. It was what she’d come here to do, and it was still her plan. A few sexy nights with the king—at least, she hoped she’d eventually get a few sexy nights—wouldn’t change that ultimate outcome. But still, her heart ached every time she handed him another research detail confirming Anna as his best choice of future wife. And not just because she was finding herself more and more reluctant to give Phillip to another woman, queen or no. She also couldn’t help but feel guilty because she knew all Anna cared about was curing cancer, something the queen would have no time for.
She shook herself. Tonight wasn’t about the wife hunt. Tonight was about him and her, and maybe a bed. Or a wall. Or a shower.
She fanned herself with the letter, then perked up when she heard the roar of the motorcycle. He rode them so often she was starting to distinguish them by sound. Judging from that extra-guttural snarl, this one had to be either the Confederate or the classic Harley.
He rounded the corner on a gunmetal-gray bike. Ah, the Confederate. Phillip smiled that adorable, boyish smile and tossed her a helmet. “Come on!” he called. “We’re finally getting our privacy.”
She gave the helmet the stink-eye.
“What?” he asked.
She sighed and undid her tidy ponytail, stuffing her head into the thing. “My stepmother is going to know something’s up if my hair is always in a snarl from riding on your bikes.” She buckled the strap beneath her chin.
Perceptive as always, Phillip tilted his head. “What’s really wrong?”
Her hands fell back to her sides. “Nothing new. I’m just constantly torn between my stepmother’s wishes and reality, that’s all.” She tried for a cavalier shrug. “It’s hard, always being the one who has to orchestrate the fantasy. She wants me to make their gowns look like brand-new designer couture when they’re nearly ten years old and the moths have gotten to them. And now that Daphne’s out of the running in the Summer House Party my stepmother wants me to find her another potential husband, and it’s always ‘hurry up Ella, you’re so good at these things, what do you mean you can’t make two people fall in love with each other?’”
Phillip frowned. “Perhaps it’s time you followed your own heart, and stopped letting her order you around.”
“Easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “I can’t help it. I’m always so nice. So dutiful.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do duties always have to be a burden?”
“Not for you, maybe. You’re the king. You can do anything you want.”
His ducked his head, and loose strands of that gorgeous, godlike hair fell over his eyes. “Not anything,” he murmured, and she frowned at his tone, but then it was gone and he was smiling at her again. “So tell me, Ms. Dutiful, if you were completely free and you could do anything you wanted right now, what would it be?”
You, she wanted to say, but swallowed it down. There were still two guards within earshot. “How about some exploring?” she said instead, then had to laugh at herself. “It’s funny, I’ve spent so much time and effort trying to escape Danovar, but now I’m kind of falling in love with the place. I think it’s the stars. They’re so bright and sharp here. They never look like that in the States.”
Phillip grinned and motioned her to climb on. “Come, then. That’s one wish I’d be happy to indulge.”
Ella grinned like a schoolgirl as she clambered on behind him. Sometimes he sounded so normal she forgot who he was, but then a turn of phrase would remind her she was with the freakin’ King of Danovar, and she got that delicious, secret little thrill all over again. She couldn’t help it—what girl hadn’t daydreamed about falling for royalty?
