Page 28 of Shameless Royalty

Or at least, it should be.

I close my eyes, my grip tightening as the pressure builds and the heat coils low in my stomach. But when I do, I don’t see dark hair and eager eyes.

I see blue. Big, clear, fucking distracting blue eyes.

No. Bloody. Way.

I shake my head, forcing my focus back to the man on his knees in front of me. But it’s too late. The thought is already there, and it’s like a freight train I can’t stop.

My mind replaces the submissive kneeling before me with Malachi, his bratty smirk, his flushed cheeks. That stupid little scowl that makes me want to—

“Fuck,” I groan, my hips stuttering and my eyes squeeze shut as I give in, heat ripping through me in a rush that leaves me shaky and breathless. “Fuckin’ hell.”

The submissive swallows my cum, his throat tightening as he struggles to get it all down before he pulls away, sitting back on his heels and his gaze tilted downward in deference. “Thank you, sir,” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of practiced reverence.

I barely hear him. My mind is spinning, replaying that moment over and over again, the phantom image of blue eyes and red hair refusing to leave me alone.

“Go,” I mutter, running a hand over my face.

He hesitates, glancing up at me. “Did I—?”

“You were fine,” I snap, responding more harshly than intended, then I caress his cheek as if to ease the sting. “You were perfect. Just… go.”

He doesn’t argue, quickly gathering himself and slipping out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left standing there, absolutely fucking wrecked by the shitstorm in my head.

I drag a hand down my face. What the fuck just happened?

Malachi. That’s what happened. That bratty, stubborn, infuriating little shit with his cutting sarcasm and his stupidly clear blue eyes. I let out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter.

You’re losing it, Cunningham.

But the more I try to push the thought away, the more it digs its claws in. The way he blushes when I get too close. The way he bites back when I tease him, his words sharp but his voice unsteady. The way he looks at me when he thinks I don’t notice—like he’s trying to figure me out and hates himself for it.

Shite.

I stagger to the edge of the bed, collapsing onto it and burying my face in my hands. What the hell is wrong with me?

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. My encounters are simple, transactional, and devoid of messy complications. No strings, no distractions—just control and release. But this… this isn’t simple. This is a goddamn mess.

I rake my hands through my hair again, frustration burning under my skin. Malachi’s just a job—a pawn in a game I didn’t even set the rules for. He’s the last person I should be thinking about when I’m like this. Hell, he’s the last person I should be thinking about at all.

But those eyes…Christ, those eyes.

They’re not just blue. Even behind those glasses, they’re the clearest, sharpest fucking blue I’ve ever seen, like they could cut through all the bullshit and see right to the core of someone. And they’re always watching, always darting away just before I catch them lingering. Like he’s afraid of what I’ll see if he lets me look too long.

I groan, leaning back against the headboard and staring up at the ceiling. This is bad. Really fucking bad. I’m supposed to be in control here, supposed to be the one calling the shots.

Somehow, Malachi’s gotten under my skin, and now I can’t stop thinking about him. About the way he talks back, the way heglares at me like he’s two seconds from decking me but knows he won’t win. About the way he laughs, like he’s forgotten where he is for just a moment.

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t want to care. He’s here because of his father, because of what his family did to mine. Getting tangled up in anything else would be a disaster.

But here I am, my head full of red hair and blue eyes and that damn blush that lights up his face like fireworks.

“I’m in trouble,” I mutter to the empty room.

Chapter 16

Malachi

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