Chapter 6
Chapter Six
CALDWELL
The moon hangs low over the water, giving off enough light to see every expression that crosses Mable’s face. She walks beside me, her hand tucked in mine, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this... content.
No. That’s a lie. I can remember. Never.
It’s easy with no expectations. I can drop my guard and simply be myself.
“Are your toes getting cold?” I ask, nodding at the water hitting her ankles.
She kicked off her sandals the moment we hit the sand.
I don’t know where the thought had come from.
When she’d taken them off, instant worry had set in that she could step on something in the sand she couldn’t see.
Now the temperature is dropping, and I’m worried about her tiny, delicate toes.
This, however, is a different kind of worry. Not the same one I have when I’m making decisions for the people of my country.
“I don’t care.” She looks up at me, hair blowing across her face, and I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. My fingers linger on her cheek, and I watch her in the moonlight.
What has she done to me? One look was all it took, and I was instantly a goner.
Then the second I saw those other men staring and making calls for her attention, in that brief moment, a strange fear filled me that I was about to lose her, which made no sense.
I didn’t know her, but I knew I wouldn’t give them a chance to lure her from me.
That I wanted her and would do whatever it took to have her.
She’s going to destroy me. She already has. I know it. This girl with her practical sweaters and her library dreams and her complete obliviousness to who I am.
“Tell me about the wedding,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Your brother’s.”
I should tell her now. I should say, “My brother is Crown Prince Julian, and I’m Prince Caldwell, soon to be king, and this wedding will be covered by every tabloid in Europe if they get word of it, and if you walk in there on my arm, your picture will be splashed across every newspaper by morning. ”
But I don’t say that. Not yet. Instead, I say, “He’s marrying a woman he met three months ago.” I’ve told her that much already, so I keep going.
“He’s the impulsive one in the family.” I smile, but it feels tight. Not because of my brother. That’s who he is, and I wouldn’t change it, but all of this is wrapped up in a lie. “He’s convinced she’s the one. Convinced enough to plan a wedding in weeks rather than years.”
“That sounds...” She pauses, searching for the word. “Romantic? Terrifying? Exciting, insane?”
“All of the above,” I agree, in my brother’s case.
For me it wouldn’t be terrifying to marry Mable.
No, terrifying would be her running away from me.
“The ceremony at the resort is black tie. I’ll need to wear a tuxedo.
” I shake my head, trying to seem not too excited about it, but I am, for my brother at least. What I’m still grappling with is asking Mable to come with me.
Right now, we’re in our own little bubble, and I’m not ready for it to burst. To share her with the world.
I worry about what exposing her to my life will do to her.
What it might bring down onto her. The fallout.
I open my mouth to invite her. The words are right there, but then I picture the cameras. Even if word doesn’t spread before the wedding, pictures will be taken and posted by someone. That is inevitable.
I know the way they’ll descend on her. Like fucking vultures.
They’ll scare her away. She’s already got bullshit in her head about being boring and dull.
And it’s not an afterthought in her mind, either.
She’s not turning her contracted, routine life into chaos over it, and that pisses me off for her.
Mable doesn’t need to change, not for anyone.
She’s so sweetly innocent and unaware. The tabloids could tear her apart in a day, depending on how they felt. I can’t let her walk into that. That’s not her burden to carry. Not yet. First, I have to prove that I’ll be worth it.
“Will you, ah…”—she pauses hesitantly—“have a date for the wedding?” Her voice is carefully casual.
Too casual, letting me know that I’m in a no-win situation here.
If I don’t invite her, then what will she think?
That I’m trying to hide her away? I’m stuck between trying to protect her or hurting her.
The question catches me off guard. “I... hadn’t thought about it.”
Liar. I’ve thought about nothing else. But the truth is, I am supposed to attend with Lady Cordelia VanCleef, a family friend my mother has been pushing me toward for years. I was annoyed, but I knew that it would calm her down, so I agreed. She’s been so worked up about the wedding to begin with.
Cordelia knows I have no interest in her, and if I recall correctly from my own observation, I’m fairly certain she’s hooking up with her security guard. I’m sure that’s why she, too, agreed to it, knowing I was a safe bet and a nice way to throw her own family off her trail.
“Oh,” she says, averting her eyes from me, and I watch her shut down. The wall goes up, that practical, protective shell she wears. “Of course. I mean, you probably have obligations. Family things.”
Tell her, my conscience screams. Tell her you want her there.
But if I tell her that, I have to tell her why. Why there are these obligations. Why there are family expectations. Why my picture will end up in the papers regardless of who I bring.
“We should head back,” I say instead, fucking this all up, but the truth is, this is new to me. I have never pursued a woman, let alone one who didn’t have a clue who I am. “It’s getting cold.”
She nods, but her hand slips out of mine as we turn back toward the hotel. The distance between us is growing, and I put it there.
I hate the walk back in silence, the sound of the waves loud between us. When we reach the suite, she goes straight to the bedroom door, hovering there like she’s not sure if she’s welcome. I can see it in her eyes, debating if there is a way out.
“Mable,” I say, crossing the room and cupping her face in my hands. “Look at me.”
She does, and I hate the doubt I see there. The way she’s already pulling away and trying to protect herself from me.
I kiss her, desperate to close the gap I created. I kiss her like I can erase the last ten minutes and make her forget it all. It only takes her a moment to start to kiss me back.
“Caldwell,” she moans my name softly when I move my mouth from hers down her jaw to her neck. The small sound has me lifting her off her feet. She wraps her legs around me, and I carry her over to the bed.
I lay her on it, following her down, my mouth never leaving her skin. I kiss my way down her throat, her collarbone, and the valley between her breasts.
“Caldwell,” she breathes, and I love the way she says my name. The real one, not the title, not the crown. Just me, getting to worship her. That’s what I need to do. My new plan. If I make her fall madly in love with me, the rest won’t matter.
I lift my head to look at her. “Tell me I can taste you.”
“Tell me there isn’t someone else.” That I can give her.
“There is no one else,” I vow to her. There never has been. “I only want you,” I reassure her. “I’d give up a whole kingdom for just one taste of you.”
She blushes, that gorgeous pink spreading across her cheeks and down her neck to bloom across her chest.
“I don’t...” She licks her lips that are still swollen from my kisses that I can’t stop giving her. “I don’t know. I’ve never...”
“I know.” I hover above her, staring down into her eyes, wanting her to really see how badly I want this. Want her.
“What if I’m terrible?”
“That is fucking impossible.” I have to keep the anger out of my voice. I’m going to have Tomas track those shitheads down so I can beat the piss out of them. “All you have to do is lie there. I’ll do everything, and you can always use that one word, and you know I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop,” she whispers shyly. “I want this.” Her tongue swipes her bottom lip again. I kiss her before I shift down her body, pushing her dress up as I go.
I kiss her stomach and then her hipbone and the inside of her thigh.
“Let me have you.” She watches as I pull her panties to the side, and a low groan leaves me when I see she’s bare.
Fuck, she’s beautiful and so innocent everywhere; she’s perfect.
Soft and pink and already wet for me. Another groan leaves me at the sight of her, at the evidence that she wants this as much as I do.
“Open for me,” I murmur, pressing her thighs wider apart to make room for myself. Mable’s cheeks are flushed more than they have ever been, but she doesn’t look or shy away. She watches me, and I want those eyes on me. I want her to see what I can give her.
The first taste of her makes my head spin.
She’s sweet and ripe and completely going to be my undoing.
Any control that I’ve mastered is quickly vanishing.
I lick her slowly, from bottom to top, not wanting to miss any part of her.
I circle her sensitive clit with my tongue, and she cries out, her hips bucking off the bed.
My girl is a hair trigger away. Like she’s been saving it all up just for me, and I’m going to feast on all of it. I grip her hips, pinning her back down to the bed. I want to go slower, be gentler, but I just can’t. The need for her is too immense and pressing down on me.
I bury my face in her pussy.
I lick and suck and tease, learning what she likes, what makes her gasp, and what makes her fingers tighten her grip in my hair to the point of almost pain. I work her with my tongue, steady and relentless, while I slowly insert one finger into her tightness.
I groan against her, thinking about my cock being there. She’s so tiny and tight; I don’t know how I’ll ever fit. The thought that no one has ever touched her here, that I’m the first—it makes me wild.
“Oh, oh, oh,” she pants, her hips moving now, seeking more. “Wells, I—I think something is, oh, I’m going to…”
“Let go,” I tell her, and I suck her clit into my mouth hard, my tongue flicking back and forth.
She comes with a cry, her whole body arching off the bed, her thighs clamping around my head. I don’t stop. I can’t. I keep licking her through it, drawing it out until she’s shaking and pushing at my shoulders, oversensitive.
I lift my head, licking my lips, wanting every drop of her sweetness I can get.
She’s gorgeous like this—flushed and completely undone, her hair spread across the pillow, crawling up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, and her throat.
“That was...” she starts, then trails off.
“Just the beginning,” I promise, and I kiss her, letting her taste herself on my lips.
I settle my weight over her, careful not to crush her, and I can feel her heat against me even through my clothes. I’m hard and aching in ways I’ve never felt before. But this isn’t about me. This is about her. About showing her what she does to me and what I can do to her.
I grind against her, slow and deliberate, and she gasps, feeling me through my pants. I want her to feel how worked up she’s gotten me. Boring and dull, my ass.
“Wells...” I can’t help but love that she has a nickname for me.
“Not tonight,” I say against her mouth, though it nearly kills me. “You’re so beautiful,” I tell her because she needs to hear it, because I need to say it. “So perfect. So mine.”
She doesn’t correct me. I kiss her forehead, her eyelids, and her mouth before I pull her to my side, holding her close with her head on my chest.
I’m still hard, throbbing with need, but I ignore it. This is enough. More than enough.
“Caldwell,” she whispers, her voice drowsy. “That was... I didn’t know it could be like that.”
I kiss her hair. “Me either.”
She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes wide. “Really?”
“Really,” I say, tucking her back against me.
She falls asleep in my arms, her breathing even and soft, and I stare at the ceiling, counting the hours until I have to tell her the truth.
The guilt is a heavy weight on my chest. She thinks this is just vacation magic, something she’ll leave behind when she goes back to her library and her careful plans.
She has no idea I’m already planning how to keep her. I’ll build her her own library if I have to.