Page 103 of American Queen (New Camelot Trilogy 1)
ent too. Just a little while longer, angel.”
I don’t want to wait any while longer, little or not, and I can’t shake the strange fear that Embry isn’t alone right now. That he found someone to spend the night with, some other warm body to bury his pain in, not knowing that Ash and I are here feeling desperate for him. Not knowing that we’re going to find him.
When I mention this fear to Ash, he nods like the thought hurts him too, but then says, “Would you blame him for that?”
“It makes my blood boil.”
“Mine too. But then we could go back to our room and fuck until we felt better. Don’t you think he deserves the same thing?”
“He said something similar to me in Geneva.”
“And?”
I lift my chin. “Just because it’s fair doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“I don’t know what there is to like about any of this sometimes. That doesn’t mean it’s not necessary.”
Eight months ago, my only necessary things were bourbon and research. When did my life get so complicated?
Finally, Ash waves Belvedere over, who passes word to the wedding planner that we’re ready to leave. The party is still in full swing, the band having packed up and a DJ having come in, and any other time, I would have wanted to stay. But tonight, Ash’s bed waits for me.
And maybe Embry will be in that bed too.
Ash and I hold hands and leave the pavilion as people line up and wave sparklers, glittering fire spitting and dancing around us, hissing down into the soft green grass below. We wave, kisses are blown, and then we’re packed into the Beast, the black Cadillac designed specifically for the President.
My dress surrounds us in clouds of silk and tulle, and Ash is laughing as we try to smash it down so Luc can close the door. The door closes and then I’m being dragged into Ash’s lap, tulle and all, and we’re surrounded by walls of wedding dress.
“We’re supposed to wave goodbye through the window,” I whisper, although I like the sudden, if ridiculous, privacy we have right now.
Ash groans but nevertheless wrestles the gown out of the way so that we can wave some more as we pull away and drive towards our hotel. The minute we’re away from the crowd, Ash lets the dress swallow us again.
“This reminds me of playing with a parachute in kindergarten,” he says, glancing at the fabric.
“A parachute?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Did you not do that at your fancy boarding schools? Is my plebeian public school background showing?”
“I went to a Montessori school outside of Portland. We used parachutes more than most kids use pencils. But we sat underneath them rather than drag them inside a Cadillac.”
Those dark eyebrows slant together as I get a wicked smile. “I’m happy to sit underneath your skirt, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I’m sideways on his lap, with my legs slung over the large wooden hump in the middle of the seat that houses Ash’s communications systems, and he takes advantage of my position, reaching for my legs under my dress and then following the lines of my stockings until he reaches my bare cunt.
“You never put on more panties?” he asks huskily. “Your pussy was bare this whole time?”
“Why do you think I had you pull the garter from my knee instead of my thigh? I was trying to make sure the essentials stayed covered.”
His fingers probe the soft skin of my lower lips. “Did it bother you that I had your panties in my tuxedo pocket?”
I lean my head back against the window, parting my legs to give him better access, though he stays away from the flesh that wants him the most, opting instead for the soft creases between my vulva and my thighs. “I thought it was unbearably hot.”
“Me too.”
“Did you and Embry…” I look for the right words and can’t find them. English has more words than any other Western language and yet I can’t find the ones that convey curiosity and arousal and permission and jealousy all at the same time.
All the same, Ash seems to know what I’m asking. “We kissed. In the groom’s dressing room at the church. He walked in and I took one look at him, and then I had him up against the wall.” Ash leans his head back against the headrest of the seat. “We kissed for a very long time, until I made sure that I had tasted every trace of your cunt on his mouth, and then I marked his neck. Did you see? I wanted you to see. I can’t decide if that was cruel of me or kind.”
“I can’t decide either,” I whisper.
