Thirteen
FRIEDRICH
I don’t remember muchabout the match. I remember Aurelia booing the ref for a bad call, I remember her shouting whenever a player made a bad pass, I definitely remember the sheer joy when her favorite player scored an incredible header on a corner. My will power is facing its biggest test. All I want to do is kiss her senseless because she is so sexy when she gets worked up, and that trace of a southern accent kicks in the more animated she becomes. Even at halftime, she’s all business, rehashing moments with Miles and sharing tactical ideas over seared scallops and truffle risotto. My friend even starts to soften as the match goes on.
We stay in the box after the match ends, giving the rest of the stadium time to empty out as we enjoy celebratory drinks. It’s easy to forget we are still very muchin public, even in the private box. Our hands touch, and she links her pinky in mine, so casual, like we touch each other often. My heart thrills. I want more than just her pinky finger, though.
We lock eyes, lingering for a moment, and I get lost in the heat radiating between us. Her green eyes scream desire and something more.Want. She wants me. I’m fighting a losing battle to keep up appearances.Fuck appearances.I reach a hand up, poised to stroke her wind reddened cheek simply to feel more of her. But then someone clears their throat, and I drop my hand. Anyone could point a phone camera towards the box and see us clearly enough for a gossip column photo.
In the elevator, I take my chance, pulling her into my arms like I’ve yearned to do all day. I can practically feel Miles and Trixie rolling their eyes with their backs turned to us. I couldn’t care less.
Aurelia fits so right against my chest, and I’m sure my heart is loud in her ear as I run my hands through her thick auburn hair and inhale the scent that has become so perfectly cataloged in my mind as her. Christ, I want to show her exactly what she does to me right here; I’ve been sporting a semi most of the afternoon, but too soon the elevator comes to a stop. I want to groan; I haven’t had a chance to taste those lips.
She jumps from my embrace like a scolded dog, her cheeks turning the most adorable shade of pink as she studies her shoes. The wind that was buffeted by the stadium kicks up around us as westep out onto the pier at the rear of the stadium, where cars wait for both Trixie and me.
“Come home with me,” I whisper, resisting the urge to trace my nose along the shell of her ear.
She turns her head up again, those green eyes nearly glowing. “Your Highness,” she breathes.
“Fritz,” I correct.
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, sending all kinds of signals straight to my dick. I grit my teeth, trying to keep it at bay.
“What if someone sees me getting in your car?”
“Ride with Trixie, she lives on the same grounds.”
Miles and Trixie shoot me a pointed look before turning back to each other, heads bent in conversation.
Aurelia shrugs. “I’m not sure your cousin is up for the favor.”
I raise my voice a bit to be sure it reaches her. “She’d do well to remember the number of girls I snuck out of the palace for her when we were teenagers.”
Her head pops up. “Fritz, you truly are the biggest pain in the ass, you know that?”
I can barely make out Miles uttering, “I think it’s the other way around, Trix.”
I roll my eyes at their snickering and turn back to Aurelia. The wind off the bay whips her long red locks around her face, the briny sea air mixing with the jasmine scent of her shampoo. She looks wild, and my heart races as thoughts of other ways to mess up her hair come to mind. I have been balancing on the edge of my self-control since I had her alone in my traincompartment only days ago, and no amount of solo sessions has eased the ache I feel for this intriguing, gorgeous nanny.
“Well, let’s go then!” Beatrix shouts from the back of her pink Rolls, where her driver is waiting with the door held open.
Aurelia’s smile sends a shock right through me, and the anticipation that’s been simmering in my blood all day grows to a full boil.
Aurelia is in my house. She’s in my living room and looking at the pictures on my mantle and browsing the books on my shelf and running her fingers along my upright piano. She’s in my home, and we are alone, and every part of my being is screaming for me to get her naked right fucking now. But I’ve spent years pressing down my baser needs, only letting them out in very specific and controlled environments. So, even though this woman does something to me that no other ever has, I work my way through distraction techniques I honed in my randy teenage years.
Blessed is the man that walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of the scornful. But his delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night.
She watches me, head tilted to the side, brows drawn together, and too late I realize she had saidsomething that required a response while I was busy reciting the first psalm in my mind.
I rub the back of my neck. “I’m sorry, I missed that.”
She places a hand on her hip in adorable consternation, and I want so badly to kiss those pursed lips. “I said I was half expecting to walk into a disheveled bachelor pad complete with beanbag chairs and empty pizza boxes.”
I clutch my chest and give her my best faux offended stare. “You are talking to the responsible eldest of the Rothstein clan. I throw my pizza boxes away at least once a month.”
Her laughter sends a pang of joy through me, and I can no longer control myself. I go to her, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her tight against me, my other hand threading through her hair to bring her face to mine. Her mouth is pure fire, and I waste no time teasing her lips to beg entrance. And her hands are on me too, pressed against my hammering heart and clutching the back of my shirt, and then I’m clamoring to consume all of her with my mouth and my arms and my body. I am the prodigal son returned, and she is my celebratory feast. And I have to taste more because if her mouth is this delicious, then the rest of her must be divine.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, a tiny spark of reason flares up and reminds me this woman is so very inexperienced and houses some sort of hiddentrauma she won’t speak about. I slowly peel myself away, though every nerve in my body is ablaze for her. My arm still rests in the dip of her lower back, and her hand remains on my chest, but I’ve moved my hips away a fraction, hoping to Christ she didn’t feel my erection against her.
