Fritz:
And perhaps we could go back to RC for a bit afterwards
Oh, how can I turn down a royal summons?
Haha! It’s not a summons. Just an invitation to lunch with my family
Yeah. The ROYAL family
Ok smartass! In all seriousness though. My family is dying to meet you and Trixie says she’ll just come drag you out anyway. And trust me you don’t want that. She doesn’t give you time to change or anything
Speaking from personal experience?
She once dragged me to the club in a pair of track pants and a paint splattered vest
Haha! Fine you convinced me
Great! I’ll send a car for you at 11:30 on Sunday
I put my phone back down on the counter, andI’m sure I have the most ridiculous grin on my face by the look Margaret is giving me.
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “This is totally casual.”
I guess Walter is my designated chauffeur whenever Friedrich sends someone for me. I greet him by name as he holds the door open for me outside my dormitory on Sunday. I used to get so nervous going to meet the prince, but these days the butterflies in my stomach are anticipation rather than anxiety. Okay, maybe a little anxiety today since I’ll be meeting the whole family, but at least I’ll have Miles and Beatrix there to help me navigate.
I’m a bit surprised as security waves the car through without any kind of search or questioning this time. I guess I’m a trusted guest now, which is crazy after only a couple of months. Do any of the women in this princess game get waved through without a security pat-down?
Friedrich is waiting for me at the same side entrance I used for the cocktail party. He’s at the car the moment it pulls to a stop, but I’m getting better at remembering to let someone else open the door for me, and he doesn’t have to rush.
He’s wearing the most ridiculously adorable boyish grin. Even through our winter gloves, my nerves spark at my hand in his as he helps me from the car and pulls me into his arms. It’s just a hug, but the rush ofemotions I feel in his embrace speaks of something more than simple, casual affection.
His fingers clench against my back, and I melt into him, the alluring smell of his woodsy cologne sending signals all over my body.We’ve done things much more intimate than hug, so why does this feel so good?I guess he thinks so, too, because there’s something hard pressing against my thigh that’s definitely not his belt buckle.
He lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a hum and a growl as he slides his hand up my back and threads his fingers in the hair at the top of my neck. With the slightest tug, he has my face tilted to his. He studies my lips, his tongue slipping out to wet his own, and I see the moment his control snaps.
We’re like starving people, trying to devour each other as quickly and thoroughly as possible. It’s not sweet or chaste or tender. Just pure screaming lust. I can’t even be worried about my lipstick because all I want—all I need—is more.More, more, more!
“Aurelia,” he rasps as he pulls away a fraction of an inch, our breath still mingling in a swirl of steam in the cold air.
I’m clutching the lapels of his wool coat like I’m clinging to a lifeboat in a storm of hormones and desire. “We should probably stop before we get too carried away.” But my hands don’t leave his chest, and we’re still firmly attached at the hip, where the hardness I felt is begging for attention.
I grind my pelvis against his erection, garnering theexact response I hoped for. His fingers dig into my shoulders as he pushes me away to arm’s length.
“Watch it, minx,” he growls. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
I look at him from under my eyelashes, pasting a perfectly innocent expression on my face. “I always finish,” I whisper.
He throws his head back in a laugh that never ceases to make my heart light before pulling me back against him and placing a quick kiss on my lips.
“Later, princess,” he promises, then clears his throat and straightens up. I snicker as I take in the berry-colored smears around his mouth and in his mustache.
“Shit.” He tries to wipe it away, but the lipstick is stubborn.
“Here, let me.” I lick my thumb and reach to smudge it away.
“Ew,” he laughs as he bats my hand away like he hasn’t had his mouth on certain parts of me before.
“It’s nanny spit,” I chuckle too. “It works on everything,” I say as I attack him again with my wetted thumb.
