The Virgin's Forbidden Lord (The Royal Virgins Book 3) Page 4

  “How could I not love you? More to the point, how could you think I don’t love you?”

  “You never said it.”

  My gut turns to stone. She’s right. I never said the damned words because I didn’t realize how true they were until she’d been about to walk back into the palace and out of my life. “I love you. I love you so much my whole body hurts at the thought of never getting to touch you again.”

  I pull her hand to my lips and press a kiss between her knuckles. Her sharp intake of breath has me backing away and worried I’ve upset her. But then she smiles. “I dreamed you’d tell me this, but I never thought it’d come true.”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to make your dreams come true for the rest of our lives, Alina. I promise.”

  “We need to tell Ryder.”

  “Not until you’re mine. He can’t say no once we’re married. I can’t risk losing you. Not now that I’ve finally realized you were meant for me all along.”

  The tears shining in her eyes make me smile. These aren’t tears of sadness. “Okay. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

  Without another word I throw the car into reverse and peel out of the parking garage. We’re through the gates and away leaving a trail of dust behind us. She laughs and holds my hand, a nervous excitement building between us. We’re going to get married. She’s going to be mine. Ryder is going to have my head.

  “Are you sure about this?” she asks. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and think this is all a dream.”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. You are the one, Alina.”

  Her fingers tighten around mine, and the city beckons, our future within our grasp. “Where are we going to do this?”

  “Saint Michael’s. The priest owes me a favor. I think it’s time to call it in.” I offer her a wink and then look her up and down. “You don’t have a dress.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t need one. We could get married in sweatpants and threadbare T-shirts for all I care. I just want to be yours.”

  And that right there is another reason I love her. She’s never been a prima donna about clothing or makeup. Sure, she enjoys getting dolled up and turning the heads of every man who sees her, but she’s just as comfortable with her hair tossed into a messy ponytail and not a stitch of makeup on. “You’re perfection.”

  “And you’re too charming for your own good.” She bats those long eyelashes at me and grins. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “There should be no secrets between husband and wife, princess.”

  Her cheeks go pink and, God help me, I want to pull over and have my way with her right now. “I’m most excited for the wedding night.”

  Fuck-ing-hell. My cock is a steel rod in my pants, and now I’m sure I won’t make it until after we’re married. “Do me a favor?”

  She offers a questioning brow.

  “Stop talking until after you’re my wife. We need to actually get to the church if we’re going to have a wedding.”

  Her hand comes up to her lips as she stifles a giggle, but she nods and stays silent. When we arrive at the church, it’s empty, as I’d predicted. I pull my phone from my pocket and send Ryder a quick text message.

  Delayed until tomorrow morning. I’ll have her home safe and sound.

  I hate lying to him, but I know he’ll put a stop to this because he doesn’t understand. I power down my phone and toss the device in my glovebox. “All set?” I ask Alina.

  She nods and reaches for the door, but I stop her. “Allow me, Your Highness.” As I come round the front of the car, a strange sense of lightness fills my chest. Hope, maybe. For the first time I feel like there’s so much more than right now laid out in front of me. I have a future, a real purpose, and she’s next to me.

  We hold hands as we walk into the church, our steps echoing on the stone floor. Everything is quiet and still inside, except the energy humming inside the two of us.

  My heart leaps at the sound of a heavy door closing down the hall. Father Bellamy’s shuffling footfalls grow closer, and I pull Alina tighter against me.

  His face, deeply tanned and lined from years of hard work in the church gardens is a mask of calm, but I see the worry in his bright blue eyes when he takes in my stance. “Your Highness,” he says, bowing as far as his stiff muscles will allow. “My Lord.”

  “Father.” I have to swallow past the lump in my throat to get the one word out.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “We’re here to get married.” My voice is strong and sure, and I say a prayer of thanks for that. “Now.”

  His eyes widen. “Right now?”

  “Yes. This very minute.”

  He frowns and stares at Alina. “Your Highness?”

  “He’s telling the truth. We want to get married. You know very well the royal family needs no special marriage license. All we need is the blessing of a priest.”

  His mouth opens and closes a few times, and he looks slightly panicked. “But…the king…the queen mother…”

  “Needn’t be involved in this. They’ve had two weddings in the last six months. I don’t want a big fuss. I just want to be married to the man I’ve loved my whole life.”

  Blue eyes narrow on me as though he thinks I’ve drugged her or some such nonsense, but then he nods. “Very well. Meet me at the altar. I’ll be back shortly.”

  The two of us walk to the altar, the lights coming on and filling the old space in a beautiful glow. We hold hands and stare at one another with the backdrop of our country’s history surrounding us. Then those familiar shuffling steps come from the side of the aisle, and I see Father Bellamy with his stole draped over his shoulders, a piece of parchment in one hand and the Holy Bible in the other.

  Vows are exchanged, and in lieu of rings, Father Bellamy binds our wrists with the stole and with it, binds our hearts. When we’re pronounced husband and wife, I can’t stop myself from grinning like an idiot. Tears trail down Alina’s cheeks, but I wipe them away with my thumbs as I pull her against me and claim her mouth for our first kiss as a married couple.

  The two of us sign the marriage certificate along with Father Bellamy as our officiant, then he hands the document to my bride.

  “Keep it safe. This is more than a piece of paper.”

  She grins. “I promise. Thank you, Father. Thank you so much.”

  I kiss my wife again on the steps of the church, and lift her in my arms, spinning us around. But then the familiar click of a camera shutter catches my ear. Followed by another. And another.

  Chapter 9

  Alina

  I’ve never moved so fast in my life. The moment Kingston and I realized we were being photographed, we bolted for the car. “Bloody fucking hell,” I mutter.

  He chuckles. “There’s my beautiful wife, swearing like a sailor.”

  “I just…I don’t want Ryder to find out like this.” I worry at my earlobe, anxiety clawing at my chest.

  “Hey, calm down. For all they know we went in to say a thankful prayer and then had an innocent kiss. We don’t even have rings on. No one knows we’re married with the exception of you, me, Father Bellamy, and God. We can keep it that way as long as you’d like.”

  “But what about the kiss? How are we going to explain that to Ryder?”

  “Tell him you assaulted me on the steps of Saint Michael’s. I’m sure he’ll believe that.”

  I punch him in the shoulder, and he fakes a wince. “Why is it always me?”

  “Because you’re relentless, and everyone knows you’ve got a crush on me.”

  My cheeks heat. “Well, that’s true. I’m crushing pretty hard on you right now.”

  “Are you now?” He runs his finger over my thigh. “Shall we attempt to sneak you into my hotel suite?”

  That sounds fun. I fight a shiver of longing at his touch and nod. “I’m good at being sneaky. Except for that one time I just got married and forgot I’m a princess f
or a second while I made out with you outside a church for everyone to see me.”

  He laughs, the rich warm tone filling my heart with happiness. We’ll figure this out. Right now, we need to bask in the joy we’ve just given each other. “We’re married, Alina.” His words are laced with awe. “Married. Holy fuck.”

  Holy fuck is right. I never thought I’d get what I wanted. But he’s mine. Kingston Masters, Lord Haverford is my husband for the rest of my life. “We should probably make sure we consummate. You know, for tradition’s sake.”

  His eyes blaze, and he pulls into the private parking area for long term guests. Then he hands me his jacket. “Put this over your head.”

  Unable to stop my laughter, I shake my head but do as he asks. We sneak into the private elevator, and he inserts his key and punches the button that will take us to the penthouse. “Is there a camera in here?” I ask, slipping the jacket down until it is over my shoulders.

  “No,” he growls, taking my face between his big hands and kissing me hard on the mouth. His tongue delves between my lips as his hands slide down, over my shoulders, back, hips, until he cups my ass.

  I want him right now. I want my husband making me his, leaving his mark on me. “Kingston,” I say against his lips.

  “Yes, princess?”

  “How long is this elevator ride?”

  He groans when my palm runs along the front of his trousers. “Not long enough.”

  “Is your bedroom far from your front door?”

  “No. Five steps.”

  “Good.”

  The lift dings, and the doors slide open, but Kingston doesn’t let go of me. Instead, he scoops me into his arms and carries me over the threshold, and then five steps into the bedroom. “Welcome to your honeymoon suite, wife,” he says. My heart swoops at the sound of him calling me his wife.

  He sets me on my feet, and I stare into his eyes. Eyes I’ve often wondered if I could fall into, they’re such a deep blue. “I love you, Kingston.”

  “I love you. More than I ever thought possible. More than myself. More than my king or my country.” He threads his fingers through my hair. “I think I always have, I just couldn’t see it.”

  Unable to wait any longer, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside, unhooking my bra quickly afterward. The lace falls free and my breasts are bare and begging for his touch. “I need you.”

  He stares at my nipples like they’re a delectable treat he’s been dying to taste. His fingers work at the buttons of his shirt and in short order, he stands bare chested before me. One of these days, I’m going to pour chocolate syrup along the ridges of his abdominals and lick them clean. But today is not that day. Reaching for his belt, I slide the leather free and open his trousers.

  “I want to be on top,” I tell him, and the answering flare of lust in his eyes has a tingle building in my clit.

  He shoves his trousers and boxers to the floor and steps out of the pool of fabric before lying back on the bed. “I’m ready.”

  A laugh escapes me at his cocky expression, but I slip out of my pants as quick as I can because although he’s amusing, he’s also the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. His cock stretches proud and thick almost to his navel.

  Nerves take hold in my belly, that unsure feeling of being too inexperienced for him pushing at my need to be close to him.

  “What’s going through that beautiful mind of yours?” he asks, sitting up on his elbows.

  “What if I do this wrong?”

  He shakes his head. “Not possible. We’ve done this before, remember? It was the single most perfect moment. Your body was made for mine.”

  “But you were in control that time.”

  He holds out a hand and I take it, letting him pull me until I have no choice but to straddle his legs. “So, let me be in control now.” Grabbing his length, he uses his free hand to hold one of my hips. “Up on your knees.” I do as I’m told, and he fits the broad head of his erection in my slick entrance. “Now lower yourself down.”

  I sink down, moaning as the pressure of him inside me hits all the right spots. He’s almost too big like this. The crown of him pushes at my womb sending pleasurable pain shooting through me.

  “Fuck, Alina. You’re so tight around me.”

  I roll my hips and start to move over him, ready to take back control. “It’s perfect. God, it’s so perfect.”

  My pace gets faster and faster as I chase the orgasm I can feel hovering on the edges of my consciousness. And then I’m lost to it. My nipples ache, body heats, and my pussy contracts around him as I fall over the edge and give in to the climax. I barely register him gripping my hips and giving a half-hearted attempt to pull free of me before he spills his own pleasure. But then he’s groaning and thrusting up, hitting my womb as he fills me.

  We lie together in the afterglow of our first time as husband and wife, his fingers playing across my tender breasts.

  “I hope I got you pregnant,” he whispers.

  My heartbeat picks up. It’s a possibility. I haven’t taken my pill in two days now. The thought of me carrying his child makes my body warm. “Me too.”

  “When are we going to tell your brother what we’ve done?”

  I can’t stop my giggle. “I should hope we never tell him.”

  He tickles me and gives a soft nip to my shoulder. “I mean, when are we going to announce our marriage?”

  Taking a heavy breath, I let silence fall between us. “Tomorrow. I’ll need to go to the palace first. Then you can join me, and we’ll request an audience.”

  His fingers trail down my hip and between my thighs, circling my clit and making my breath hitch. “Then I suppose I should give it one more go before I’m banished.”

  “Give what one more go?”

  “Planting my baby in your belly.”

  Oh, God. I spread my thighs and welcome my husband between them, wishing with everything in me that I didn’t have to worry about our king’s reaction to our marriage.

  Chapter 10

  Kingston

  The bed is cold when I wake up. My wife isn’t beside me. Fuck. Where is she? My immediate thought is that she’s run away, realized she made a huge mistake in marrying me so impulsively, and is already asking for an annulment. But then I hear her sweet voice singing from down the hall, and the pain in my chest eases.

  I stroll down the hall with nothing but my boxers on and lean against the wall when I spot her. She’s mixing something in a stainless-steel bowl, her body covered by nothing more than one of my old university T-shirts. She looks happy. Peaceful. Perfect.

  “I can see you, you know,” she says, not looking at me as she reaches for the plates on the highest shelf. The shirt rides up, exposing the bottom of her bare ass.

  “You’re about to see a whole lot more of me.” My voice is a growl of pure need. Now that she’s mine in every way, I don’t think I can get enough.

  She holds the mixing spoon out, some sort of batter drips onto the floor. “Oh, no. I have to get back to the palace. If we start up again now, we won’t make it out of bed until tonight.”

  “Promises, promises,” I tease.

  “I’m just waiting on my clothes to dry, and then I’ll be heading home.”

  Home. That gives me pause. Her home is with me, but where is that? We can’t live in a hotel until my estate is finished being renovated, can we? “Fine. I’ll plan to arrive this afternoon. Maybe we can go for a ride before we talk to the king.”

  Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Which kind of ride?”

  “The non-sexual kind…unless we can bribe Charlie to let us have the stables to ourselves. It could give a whole new meaning to the name mounting block.”

  She laughs, genuine and full before grabbing a blueberry from the bowl next to her and flinging it at me. “You’re terrible.”

  “You love me.”

  I pull her into my arms, and she stops laughing, her bright eyes finding mine. “I do. I really, really do.”
>
  “Good. Now tell me what sort of domestic concoction you have happening here. I never pegged you for a princess who liked to cook.”

  Squaring her shoulders, she stirs a handful of berries into the batter. “Blueberry pancakes.”

  “Would now be a bad time to tell you I’m allergic to blueberries?”

  Her shocked gasp sends guilt tearing through me. I was only joking, but there’s a serious look of concern on her face. “Oh no, Kingston! I’m so sorry. How did I not know this?”

  She moves to dump the batter into the sink, but I stop her. “I’m only joking. I’m sorry. Don’t throw it out. I love blueberry pancakes.”

  Then she laughs and pops a berry in between my lips. “I know, you twit. Have you forgotten? I’ve been yours for sixteen years. You’re allergic to garlic, beer makes you tired, whiskey makes you randy, and if you could, you’d watch American football until your eyes started bleeding.”

  I’m at a loss. She’s right. “And you’re not allergic to anything, you’re so bloody strong-willed your father almost sent you off to boarding school, you secretly love J-Pop music, and wish you had a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader costume to wear for me.”

  “Right on almost all counts. I don’t know where the cheerleader thing came in.”

  “A man has to have his dreams, wife. You in those little shorts and boots is one of mine.”

  She laughs and turns to the griddle, spooning batter in equal portions on the hot surface. The two of us co-exist like that, side-by-side, making breakfast. It’s everything I want in this moment. But it’s over all too soon, and before I know it, my love is walking out the door and heading back to the life she’s bound by duty to live.

  I use my time to get a run in, taking the trail nearest the palace that goes around Alina’s favorite duck pond. Music blasts in my headphones, drowning out everything else, but still thoughts of how this could go south very quickly assault me. I just need to explain to Ryder how I fell in love with her. He’ll see. He has to understand. He loves his own wife.