Page 84 of Tall, Royal and Grumpy

Chapter Twenty-Five

KAI

It was past midnight when I stepped into my bedroom again after nine hours of celebration.

It was bliss to finally hear absolute silence instead of screaming crowds and the constant chatter and laughter of too many people. Of course, I couldn’t forget the cannons. I could still hear the echoes of seventy-five blasts ringing in my ears.

Not that the Cannon Ceremony had been bad or anything, but it was the noisiest celebration and Fay was right. In big crowds and lots of noise, my social battery depleted at the speed of light.

Finally being back in my space was a relief. Removing my contact lenses and taking a much-needed shower was a bigger relief. But the biggest relief came when I left my room and found Esmeralda coming down the corridor, only for her to flash me a stunning grin and run right into my arms.

Absolutely nothing would ever beat the relief of having her near me, her warmth and sweet, peony rose scent filling every cell in my body, and knowing she was safe and happy again. And mine.

I wasn’t sharing that joy with anyone tonight. Even if the night guards and palace staff were discreet and mindful of giving us privacy when they saw us wandering around together.

Without letting Esmeralda out of my arms, I practically dragged her back into my bedroom, loving the way she chuckled into my chest.

“So, this is your secret lair,” Esmeralda said as she walked into the middle of my room.

I closed the door behind me—and locked it—as my gaze trailed over her small frame while hers trailed the space. I swallowed hard, wanting heat wafting down my body.

Her and her fucking pyjama shorts and tops were going to be the death of me. Though tonight she was wearing a black jersey jumper over the plum-coloured silk that complimented her warm golden skin tone perfectly, with her long, slightly damp hair draped down around her shoulders.

“Can I snoop around?” she asked, throwing me a wide-eyed glance over her shoulder.

I hummed my assent and nudged at the frame of my glasses. As she looked around in fascination, I lazily made my way over to the foot of my wooden-framed, four-poster bed.

My room wasn’t much different from the one she was staying in. Same blood red carpet, corniced ceiling with a big, gold and crystal chandelier. There was one scenic painting, one of Bucky, and one of my other two horses dotted around the walls, all three of which Fay had painted. The doors to the right of my bed led to an ensuite and walk-in wardrobe, and where Esmeralda had a vanity in the top corner, I had a wooden chest of drawers matching my bed with a big rectangular mirror above it.

She made her way over to said chest of drawers, peeking at the products I had meticulously set in their right places. She went straight for the black, square-shaped glass bottle of cologne and brought it to her nose. Her lashes dropped as she inhaled deeply, and the moan she let out after should have been fucking illegal. It was low, honest, and so unashamedly lusty. Or maybe the lusty one was me.

I felt like a teenage boy who had brought a girl to his room for the first time. I was already horny from seeing her in my space, but her moan was like a lit match against my petrol-soaked body.

I was so lost in my lust for her that it took me a moment to realise she was pulling open a drawer, not going for the top one but the second one. The one where I had hidden her—

Panic shot up my spine. “Wait,” I called out, my body jerking towards her.

She gasped, her mouth gaping wide. Fuck. Her head turned slowly and that perfect O on her lips turned into a big, accusing grin, her eyes glittering with bubbling amusement. Double fuck. Hot blood swarmed my face. Before I could come up with an excuse, my hand was moving up to tug at my ear on its own accord, giving away my secret.

“Mr Perfect Prince,” she said, laughter lacing her words. “Why is my black thong in your drawer?”

Her hand dipped inside and out came the black lace thong she’d been wearing the night in the TV room, dangling on the tip of her index finger. She shook it accusingly at me like a pendulum.

“I…” I cleared my throat, rubbing my treacherous fingers over my mouth. “I just…”

“You just…” she repeated mockingly. “Picked them up that night and forgot to send them back with my shirt the next morning? So you were keeping them in your drawer to give to me later?”

The corner of my mouth twitched but I kept the curl hidden under my fingers until I had it under control. I pushed my hands into my black pyjama bottoms and stalked over to her. “I could ask you the same thing.” She widened her eyes innocently. “I don’t recall getting my T-shirt back.”

Her lips spread impossibly wider, and she cocked her chin like an audacious little brat. “That’s because you’re not getting it back. That T-shirt is mine now.”

I ground my teeth together as her claim on my clothes sent throbs of possessive desire raking down my front. “Then these…” My voice came out low as I slipped the lace off her fingers, tracing my thumb over the detailed design before I blindly dropped them back in the drawer. “Belong to me now.” The quiet clap of the drawer shutting matched the last syllable of my sentence.

The colour on her cheeks deepened as arousal washed over her face, turning her greyish-brown eyes murky and hot. I could see her scheming thoughts playing out in her stare, and I could pretend I was going to be strong, but we both knew I’d give in to whatever game she was planning.

“But,” she said, giving me a fake little pout, “that’s my favourite pair.”

“Is that supposed to make me want to give them back?” I tried to sound as unbothered as I could.

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