Affairs of State (Daughters of Power: The Capital #6)(13)
Author: Jennifer Lewis

“Hmm…” What could she say to shock him out of his amused complacency? “I’m a reformed nymphomaniac.”

His eyebrows rose slightly, but the rest of his expression didn’t change. “Not too reformed, I hope.”

“You’re terrible.” She couldn’t help laughing. “The truth is I’m probably the opposite. Too uptight. Maybe that’s my flaw.”

“That can be fixed.” Heat flickered between them as their eyes met in silence. A couple of buttons were open at the neck of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing sliver of rather tanned chest. His neck was thick and muscular, like an athlete’s, and she was pretty confident that the rest of him would be, too.

He shifted closer to her on the sofa. Their thighs touched and she wondered what he’d look like nak*d. Then she wondered if she was going to find out tonight. Anxiety crept through her, along with the steady pulse of desire. Having sex with a prince wasn’t something you could easily forget. Yet that’s what she’d have to do, eventually, as she was hardly going to become a member of the royal family.

“Your brain is going a million miles an hour.” His face drew close to hers.

“There’s another flaw. I think too much.”

“No one’s ever accused me of that. I’m known for acting first and thinking later.” He grinned. She could smell his intoxicating musky scent. “It’s gotten me into some scrapes over the years.”

“And I have a feeling it’s about to get you into another one unless we put our wine down.” Their lips were moving inexorably closer.

“You do think of everything.” He took her glass and placed it on the floor next to his. “Now, where were we?”

She didn’t have time to think of an answer, as his mouth closed over hers and his big arms wrapped around her. A sigh escaped her as she fell into his embrace. The days apart had been torture. Trying to stop herself from thinking about him, from wanting to see him. Then behaving appropriately in front of the drivers and the butler and all those other people constantly hovering around.

Now it was just her and Simon. Their kiss deepened and his tongue flicked against hers. The throb low in her belly grew more urgent, her n**ples straining against the cups of her bra. But surely there was security or someone nearby? “Should we go somewhere more private?” she whispered. At night she was haunted by visions of photographers peeking in her windows, trailing her to the most mundane places and pouncing on her.

He didn’t answer, but swept their glasses up and nodded for her to follow. They strode through the silent house. It wasn’t dark outside. It stayed light until late in England in the summer, so it felt oddly like midafternoon though it must be at least eight. Why was she thinking about the time?

Because at this very moment she was about to climb into bed with a prince. At least she assumed it would be a bed. Knowing Simon she could well be wrong.

She followed him upstairs, and she felt a flush of relief when he turned into his own bedroom.

Condoms! Was now the right moment to mention the need for contraception? Or was that presumptuous? She took one look at the large bed. “Um, I have some condoms in my luggage.”

He turned around with a smile. “Hmm. Maybe you weren’t lying about being a slightly reformed nymphomaniac.”

“Or is it just that I’m annoyingly prepared for everything?”

“I suspect the latter. And don’t worry, I have some specially purchased for the occasion.”

“How does a prince buy condoms? I mean, you can’t wander into Boots the Chemist on your local high street and slam them down on the counter with a smile.”

“Why not?” He pulled a packet of Trojans from an elegant mahogany chest.

“Um, because everyone would know what you’re up to.”

“And they’d be jealous.” He stepped toward her and stole her breath with a hot, urgent kiss. “But don’t worry. My secretary purchases them in a cunningly anonymous fashion.”

His fingers worked their way around the zipper on the side of her dress. Then he seemed stymied. Her br**sts tingled at the thought of him touching them. “I have to lift it over my head,” she rasped.

“No.” He looked thoughtfully at the garment. “I have to lift it over your head.” He lifted the hem and she held her breath and raised her arms as he pulled the dress up and off. With her dress crumpled like a tissue in his broad hands, he surveyed her—wordless—for a moment. She should feel self-conscious standing there in her bra and panties, but she didn’t. Simon’s desire was every bit as nak*d as her body.

She kicked off her shoes and tackled the buttons on his shirt, while he undid his belt and stepped out of his pants. Good grief. His chest was thick muscle, highlighted by a line of sun-bleached golden hair that pointed to the fierce erection seeking freedom from his conservative boxer shorts.

“Let me help you with that,” she murmured, tugging the cotton down over his thighs. She realized too late that she was licking her lips. It had been a long time since she’d had sex and her entire body sizzled with anticipation. His legs were sturdy as the oak trees on his estate, with knees scarred by countless adventures, and she enjoyed the movement of his muscles as he stepped out of his underwear.

He unsnapped her bra before she had even stood up again, and her br**sts pointed at him in accusation of arousing her past the point of decency.

At long last.

Together they pulled off her panties, then their bodies met, his erection fitting neatly against her belly. They breathed heavily, skin heating as they managed a very tentative kiss: a wisp of tongue, a graze of teeth, the tiniest, smooth, teasing and taunting until they couldn’t stand it anymore. Then they fell onto the bed and Simon crawled over her, covering her with his body, with his kisses, tasting and testing her skin until she moaned with urgency.

He rolled on the condom and entered her carefully. Their eyes met for a moment, and the look of concern on his handsome face made her smile. She lifted her h*ps to welcome him and enjoyed his expression of rapture as his eyes slid closed and he sank deep inside her.

Pleasure coursed through her at the feel of his big, strong body wrapped around hers. She moved with him easily, enjoying sudden and intense relief from all the tension that had built between them in the short time they’d known each other.

“Ariella.” He rasped her name with a hint of surprise, as if discovering it for the first time. Somehow it jerked her back to the reality of who she was. Ariella Winthrop, whose life had been turned upside down by the scandalous circumstances of her birth and now by a shocking international romance. Even as she writhed in Simon’s arms she couldn’t help wondering if this was all a crazy mistake. Would she wake up soaked in regret at compounding the madness that was her life lately?

If the press found out she and Simon had slept together they’d have a field day. They’d be clamoring for snapshots of the “royal smooch” or any casual indiscretion.

She’d let this whole thing spiral out of control. In D.C., she could have easily kept Simon at arm’s length until he went back to Britain, instead of embarking on an ill-advised romance that would have people whispering and gossiping behind her back.

“Ariella.” He said it again.

“Yes?” Was he asking a question?

“I just like saying it. Celebrating it. That we’re here together at last.”

She chuckled, then carefully maneuvered them until she was on top. “You’re a hard man to resist.” That was the truth. You couldn’t say no to Simon. At least she couldn’t.

She leaned forward to kiss him, then her hair trailed over his chest as she rose and moved over him. His eyes closed and his face wore an expression of sheer bliss as she rode him. His hands wandered over her chest, enjoying the curve of her br**sts and circling her waist. Then he deftly changed positions again and took back the lead.

Thoughts slipped away as he drove her deep into a world where worries didn’t exist. Nothing mattered but their two bodies, moving in sync, holding and clutching at each other, their breath mingling and their skin sticking together as they edged closer and closer to the inevitable cli**x.

Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, as countless other couples must have done over the years in this same grand chamber. Dukes, princes and earls, wives, mistresses and probably a few comely servant girls as well.

“What are we doing?” She breathed into his ear. It wasn’t the first time she’d voiced the thought aloud.

“We’re in the throes of a passionate romance,” he answered.

“You make things seem so simple.”

“Usually they are simple, and people go out of their way to make them complicated.”

“But how long can it go on for? You live here and I live in D.C. It’s silly.”

“It’s wonderful.” He stroked her hair, his eyes soft.

She exhaled slowly. “It is.”

“So we need to enjoy our passionate romance one day at a time and see where it takes us.”

“With the press breathing down our necks?”

He shrugged. “They’ll do what they want to do, regardless of what we want or hope for. I try to ignore them in general. Unless I need some PR for World Connect. Then I’m all smiles and pithy sound bites.” He grinned.

“I need to cultivate that attitude.” She rested her head on his broad chest. “They’re just doing their job. As you said before, they’re not likely to leave me alone any time soon because of the president being my father, so I might as well get used to them.”

“Good, because on Sunday we’re going to a charity polo match and there will be plenty of press there.” He had that mischievous look again.

“Uh-oh.”

“It’ll be fun. And you’ll get to meet my family.”

Anxiety spiked through her. “Your older brother and his wife?”

“They’re away on a tour of Australia, but you’ll meet my grandmother and assorted cousins, aunts and uncles. And my younger brother will be there.”

She swallowed, trying not to let her panic show. “Your grandmother…the queen?”

“Don’t be intimidated. She looks fierce from a distance but up close she’s very warm and easy to talk to.”

She blew out a breath. “I hope I won’t stutter like an idiot.”

“You are the last person on earth to feel flummoxed in the presence of royalty. Especially since you’re already sleeping with it.”

She chuckled. “There is that.” Then her gut churned. “Does the queen know? I mean, about us?”

“If she reads the papers she will.” He stroked her cheek. “Don’t worry. My family will love you. It will be fun.”

Fun. Ariella very much doubted that it would be fun. Intimidating, alarming, fraught with potential pitfalls? Yes. Fun? Not so much.

Either way, in less than two days, she’d find out.

Seven

Ariella tried everything she could think of to get out of attending the polo match. The Duke of Buckingham had officially hired them for the wedding so she really should be in London scouting out suppliers for the party. But, yes, it would be a Sunday and in England most things were closed on Sunday. She should get back to the U.S. and…well, yes, it would still be Sunday.

So on Sunday morning she found herself combing her hair with shaking hands.

Simon opened the door dividing their rooms and looked in. He smiled when he saw her. “Just checking that you haven’t climbed out the window.”

“What if they all hate me?”

“They’ll love you.” His ebullient confidence did nothing to soothe her frazzled nerves.

“I don’t know anything about polo.”

“You don’t need to. Clap when our team scores and you’ll be good.”

“What if a reporter asks probing questions?”

“They won’t. It’s a very exclusive event and there are unwritten rules that keep them at a respectful distance.”

“What if I become hysterical and make a big scene?”

He grinned. “Then we’ll call some nice men in white coats to come take you away. Would you like a glass of Pimm’s to soothe your nerves?”

“No, thanks. I really don’t like to drink before noon. Especially on Sunday. It affects my aim.” She brandished her mascara wand.

“Quite understandable. I should probably warn you about my uncle Derek. He’s likely to be three sheets to the wind by noon and isn’t shy about expressing himself.”

Uncle Derek? She’d never heard of him. Her confusion must have shown in her face.

“He’s my mother’s brother, so not royal by birth, but he’s latched on to the family and is hanging on with a death grip. He tries to be more traditional than anyone so he’s not likely to approve of me dating an American.”