Chapter 17
ADDISON
Over the next few days, the blind item explodes across every platform, followed by photos that someone submitted of him from the inside. I thought things would get better, but somehow, they’ve gotten worse. The photographs are damning.
Gossip articles pop up everywhere, debating the ethics of arranged royal marriages in the modern era.
A petition is circulating in Montclaire, demanding that the king and queen allow their son to choose his own bride, and it has gained hundreds of thousands of signatures.
This has also put Louis on the map as an eligible prince, so now every single woman in the world wants him.
Royalty who weren’t even in the running have contacted the queen to be included in the competition.
He’s wanted by thousands, and there is no exaggeration on that.
The situation has become a true test because he’s being pulled in a million different directions.
Kendall has kept me up to date with what’s being said in the States, and apparently, TMZ is analyzing the “conservatorship” rumor. Suddenly, everyone, from Hollywood celebrities to world leaders, has an opinion about the love life of the crown prince of Montclaire.
The palace has become pure chaos, and for days, I’ve tried to focus and keep my head down to finish both of Louis’s portraits.
I try to ignore what’s going on, but whispers about Louis follow me everywhere I go.
Staff huddles in corners, trading theories about who leaked the story and photos and what it means for the royal family.
The princesses grow more paranoid with each passing day, and even they’re at each other’s throats.
I even overhear Cornelia accusing Tatiana of planting the story herself.
So many fingers are pointed, and half of them don’t make sense.
Louis and I haven’t been alone together since the night on his couch when we were interrupted. But this morning, when we passed each other in the hallway, our gazes locked, and I lost my train of thought. We exchanged simple nods with knowing smiles, but that’s all of him I’ve been given.
The spotlight on him is too bright at the moment. Thanks to my PR training, I know when it’s best to stick to myself. After the last move I made on the chessboard, I left a note that said:
To be continued …
This season of The Royal Bachelor sucks.
The thought makes me laugh as I paint more details on the chess painting of Louis.
Today, I moved my canvas to a spot where I could glance out the large windows and watch the palace foyer.
Now, it’s nearly eleven at night, but I can’t stop working.
I understand why Henri painted the queen so much.
While I’m adding stubble to his face, a soft knock comes.
My heart rate increases as I set down my brush and wipe my hands on a rag, then twist the canvas.
When I crack open the door, I see him, immediately allowing him in. He practically kicks the door shut behind him as our mouths crash together. It’s hungry, frantic, and everything I’ve been hoping and wishing for days. I moan, needing more. I’m basically aching for him.
“Fuck, I’m addicted to you, Addy,” he says, relieved, like he was starved of oxygen.
Our noses brush together as his hands find my waist.
“Mmm. There’s no cure,” I tell him as he brushes his nose against mine.
“I’m aware.”
The growl in his throat causes me to shiver. He kisses my neck, my jaw, then back to my mouth.
“I couldn’t take it any longer,” he confesses. “I’ve been losing my mind, not speaking to you. That can’t happen again.”
I pull back. “We’re playing it safe.”
“We have an alibi,” he says, pointing to the canvas.
“Okay, Princey. My media instincts say that’s a bad idea. You don’t want people realizing I’m here. Trust me. They’ll say I’m a plant, your personal karma, the one sent to destroy you and your playboy ways for breaking so many hearts.”
“Is that a confession?” His nostrils flare. “Because I feel like I’ve been put under a love spell. You’re all I think about.”
I smirk. “That’s a nice line.”
He shakes his head and kisses me like he’s making up for lost time. “You know it’s not a fucking line. You know I’m obsessed with you.”
Butterflies flutter inside me. His fingers trail up my arm, and goose bumps form against my skin.
Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, “But you’re obsessed with me too.”
“And that’s what makes this so fucking dangerous.” I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him because I’m so happy he’s here.
“I have news … both good and bad,” he manages.
“Good news first,” I say. “Always.”
“I’ve been granted more time to decide who I’m proposing to. Two weeks after the ball, I have to tell the council who I’ve chosen. An official engagement announcement is still expected on September first.”
My kiss grows frantic. “That’s still soon.”
“Yes, but it gives us room to figure out a solid plan. The bad news is, my mother has decided to throw a ball on the second Saturday of August. I’ve learned that two hundred eligible women will be in attendance, all with hopes to win me over.”
I gulp, looking up at him. “Are you bringing a glass slipper?”
He chuckles against my throat. “Do you happen to have a spare one I can borrow?”
“Fresh out. That last prince refused to return it when I broke his heart,” I say. “Terribly sorry.”
He pulls away, meeting my eyes, and his expression grows serious. “You’ll be there.”
I frown. “I’m not eligible to attend.”
“You’re my personal guest,” he states. “It’s not up for discussion.”
“Don’t get reckless with this,” I warn.
“I want and need you there,” he says. “I’m not asking, Addison.”
I shake my head and take a step back from him. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes, I’ve already put your name on the guest list. Trust me on this. Please,” he says, tilting my chin upward before capturing my mouth. “We’re playing chess, sweetheart. Not checkers. When the clock strikes midnight, it will be check.”
“In the end, do we win?”
A slow smile spreads on his adorable face as he pulls me against him. We dance in the cottage to no music.
“We do. Because I’m not giving you up. Nothing in the whole damn world compares to this. To us. I’ll fight until my death.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “When you look at me like that, I know you mean it, drama king.”
He spins me around. “It’s because this is the real deal, babe.”
“Are you sure you’re not faking it?”
He breathes out as we sway. “Shut the fuck up. You know I could never.”
I pull him closer, enjoying every ticking second. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too,” he confesses. “Seeing you in passing is enough to make me go mad. I don’t know how my grandmother did it.”
“I don’t know how Henri did. I’m too territorial over what’s mine. Seeing you with all those women … I hope I’m always enough for you.” I tilt my chin until our mouths are closer.
His eyes darken. “I can’t get enough of you.”
“You’re mine, Louis.” I press my body against his. “And I don’t like to share.”
He groans, and his mouth finds mine again, harder this time, more demanding. His hands slide down to my ass, and he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me toward the bed.
“I’ve been losing my fucking mind over you,” he says against my lips as his cock presses against me. “I need you.”
“Prove it.”
He sets me down on the mattress, and I prop myself up on my elbows while he strips off his shirt. I watch the muscles in his chest and stomach flex as he reaches for his belt. It’s difficult not to admire every last inch of him.
“Undress for me,” he says, watching me with sparkles in his eyes.
“Yes, Your Highness,” I say with a little attitude, which he enjoys, and I peel my shirt over my head. Slowly, I push down my shorts and panties, letting him see me in the glow of the lamp in the small room.
“Wow,” he whispers, his eyes sliding down my body. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He removes his clothes, and then he’s standing before me, completely bare.
Louis, naked, is like seeing Michelangelo’s statue of David.
“I have no words,” I whisper as he moves to me.
Our mouths slowly dance while he lowers himself on top of me. The head of his cock presses against my entrance, and I arch toward him.
“Mmm,” he says in my ear, sliding up and down my slit. “I want to do this, but I can’t. I don’t have a condom.”
“Please? I’m on birth control.”
“Addison.” His jaw tightens, and then something shifts in his expression.
“Pretty please?” I rock against him so desperately that my body nearly shakes in anticipation. I kiss him, wanting this more than air in my lungs.
Need overtakes us. Care and logic disappear completely.
“Fuck it.”
I cry out as he stretches me wide. My hands fly to his shoulders, and my nails dig into his skin. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve been with, and my body needs a moment to relax around the fullness of him. But it’s so much more than that.
Right now, he’s inside me with nothing between us. The heat of his skin against mine and how our breaths catch together—it’s overwhelming. We’re connected in a way that we can never take back.
“Are you okay?” He stills immediately, brushing kisses along my jaw, his voice gentle, even as his cock throbs inside me. “I’ll go slow.”
I’m much better than okay, and I can barely breathe. “Yes.”
I take a breath, then another, letting my body relax around him.
He waits, patient, pressing soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. He’s watching me with care, like my comfort matters more than his pleasure. The way he gazes at me like I’m precious and worth being careful with nearly undoes me.
“Okay,” I say, my world already spinning.
He pulls back and slides in again, gentle this time, watching my face for any sign of discomfort. The stretch becomes pleasure, and the fullness becomes a need.