Chapter 24 #2
“Okay. Answers.” I check them off on my fingers. “Posh private school. Security guarded the outside of the building only. Nope. And sacked. Mum fired Wendy when she found out she’d taken me off the property without permission to take part in a ‘dangerous activity.’”
Lexi snorts. “That figures. Your mom doesn’t exactly seem like someone for whom fun is much of a priority.”
I nod. “But as soon as my events company was making money, I set up a trust to give Wendy and her husband a monthly income that’s enough to live on and to put her two daughters through university.”
“Wow.” Lexi shifts toward me. It pulls the edge of her shirt out of my hand, but that’s a small price to pay to get my eyes on hers. Her luscious, dark hair is framed by a glow from the castle’s decorative exterior lights that came on when it got dark.
“So the little girl and the polar bears isn’t a one-off then?”
“What?” Now I sit up too. “How did you know about that?”
“I overheard you talking. And went up to them afterward and asked. It didn’t really take finely honed investigative reporter skills.”
Lord, her sharp tongue is hot.
And I know for an actual fact that it’s not truly sharp. It’s soft and warm and slides against mine in the most delectable way. Simply thinking about it causes a stirring in my jeans and makes my mouth yearn to taste hers again.
“Okay, different topic,” she says. “How come you sold your events business? You could have still run that from New York, and then you’d have fewer money concerns.”
“Because I came to hate it and everything it stood for. I never saw myself getting into a business like that. But when I graduated university, I had no clue what I wanted to do, so when I was asked to sit on the board, I took it because it fell into my lap. Then when the owner wanted to sell the company a few years later, I bought it—again, because I had no idea what else to do with my life.”
She’s typing again now. “You’ve never had any ambitions?”
“Never had a clue what I wanted to be. Or maybe, who I wanted to be.” I shrug.
“But I did learn a lot from running that business. I got to be good at dealing with difficult people, pitching ideas, telling brand stories, and knowing whether visuals worked or not. But after a while, the waste sickened me. The irony of staff who work all hours to get by, clearing up discarded goodie bags filled with thousands of dollars’ worth of giveaways was not lost on me.
When I found out the clients threw it all away, I introduced a policy that all leftover PR products from every event be donated. ”
“Wow. This is great stuff.” She turns her head to look at me. Is there a shift in her opinion of me hidden in that expression? “We could do a whole chapter on that.”
“Maybe every royal isn’t bad,” I suggest. “Just like every journalist isn’t.”
All my life, I’ve loathed the press with every pore of my being, done my very best to stay as far away from them as possible, but with this particular reporter I can’t help but scooch myself a couple of inches closer.
If it were only that she’s beautiful, smart, and the perfect kisser, her profession would still make me keep my distance.
But there’s something about Lexi, that thing in her eyes, the deep familiarity when she looks at me, like we’re connected somewhere deep inside, like we already know each other through and through, that makes me want to do all the wrong things because they feel so fucking right.
“What are you doing?” she asks but doesn’t move back.
“Trying to persuade you to rethink your kissing ban.” I rest my hand on her calf, and she doesn’t pull away.
She looks down at the inches between us. “Your waterfall story is really sad.”
“Interesting way to dodge the issue.”
Her shoulders shift a little with a small laugh.
“I asked for a happy story.” She meets my gaze and, good God, I don’t know if it’s the darkness, the forbidden nature of it all, the fact I’ve just told her about such a private moment, the intimacy of sitting here cocooned in a four-poster bed in the dark, or what the hell it is, but my stomach does a series of somersaults, each one starting before the other has finished.
“That was a happy story.” I tick-tock my thumb over the curve of her calf.
She shakes her head slowly. “The fact you think it’s happy makes it even sadder.”
I glide my hand higher up her leg, inch by inch, wanting to absorb every millimeter of the journey. She flinches slightly, and the neckline of her shirt rises and falls more deeply over the swell of her breasts.
The idea that I’m making her breath deepen causes my dick to swell so much I have to wriggle a little to stop it from hurting. “The little while that Wendy and I were in the pools, splashing about in the sunshine, then having a picnic on the blankets, it was pure bliss.”
“So why does the waterfall thing stand out so much from all your other childhood memories?”
I bring my hand to rest in the crook at her hip. “You’re good at this question-asking lark, huh?”
Her delicious pink lips quirk up at one side and she shrugs one shoulder.
I’d better be more to her than a job. “Because it felt different from anything else.”
“In what way?”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes while I put myself back there and try to figure out why it was the one moment that popped into my mind.
“I think because I felt free. And like I imagine non-public-figure folks feel when they’re out having fun.
Like the fantasy I’ve had my whole life of being able to do whatever I want without fear of public scrutiny. ”
“You felt like yourself?”
“That’s an excellent way to put it. Either you’re very good at this word business or you’re very good at reading me.”
“Maybe both.” Her eyes flick to me for a second before settling back on her screen. “And in almost three decades you’ve never felt fully yourself like that since?”
“When I’m at a Commoners game and am lost in the joy or despair of it, I do.”
Her gaze rests on me now, her forehead crinkled. “And that’s it? Nothing in between that moment when you were nine and when you bought the soccer team a couple of years ago?”
Do I say this? Dare I? Will she think I’m putting too much pressure on her?
Fuck it.
It’s true. So I’m going to say it.
“I feel like myself right now.” I allow my hand to continue its journey, moving from her leg up her arm, over her shoulder, and to her neck. When I make contact with the bare, soft skin just below her ear, her eyes drift closed on a long sigh.
After a few seconds’ pause, where the silence is broken only by the pounding of my pulse in my head, her heavy lids haul themselves partially open.
She doesn’t flinch, just holds my gaze with those eyes that are a softer blue now. Not sharp and piercing and all get-that-story, meet-that-deadline, but slightly unfocussed, a little foggy, like she’s allowing herself to get lost in the moment. There’s that free spirit again.
Cupping her smooth cheek in my hand, I lean in.
Her lips are parted, ready for me, before I’ve even reached them.