Double Team Read online

  “My eyes are up here, luv,” I tease.

  “I’m not even looking anywhere else,” she protests, her face coloring. “And you should…put on a shirt or something. Why are you answering your door like that, anyway?”

  “Well, if I’d have known it was you at the door, I’d have answered without any pants,” I tell her.

  "That would have only been embarrassing for you," she says. "It's quite chilly in here, with the air conditioning, you know."

  "Don't worry, luv," I say. "The royal scepter has no issue with shrinkage."

  Her eyes go wider and she shakes her head. "Did you seriously just refer to your dick as the royal scepter?"

  I don't bother to hide my grin. Little Miss Do-Gooder acts like she's offended, but she totally wants me. "Do you want to touch the royal staff?" I ask. "Give the crown jewels a little polish?"

  She wrinkles her face up in disgust. "Ugh. Anyone ever tell you that you have a twelve-year-old boy’s sense of humor?"

  "Usually I'm accused of having the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old boy. So I'll take the sense of humor bit as a compliment."

  "You would," she says. "And for the record, I came here on business. Not to talk about your little Prince Albert."

  "Oh, there's nothing little about it, luv," I say, reaching for the button on my pants. "Here. Take a look."

  She puts her hand up. "Oh my God. Seriously. Are you that hard up for female attention?" she asks. "We're right in the middle of your doorway, in case you've forgotten."

  "You're going to need to find your sense of humor," I say. "I think you might have forgotten it somewhere in Vegas."

  Her face colors. "I have a sense of humor," she says. "Just not…your kind of humor."

  "Joking about my cock isn't your style?" I ask. "Well, I'm glad you take my dick seriously."

  Belle rolls her eyes. "You're so not my style."

  "Well, I've got news for you, luv," I say. "Girls like you aren't my style, either." That part is definitely true. No matter how fucking hot this chick is, uptight women aren't exactly my type.

  “Then why do you keep hitting on me?” she hisses.

  “I’m just having a little fun, that’s all. If I were hitting on you, you’d know it. Trust me.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement has the effect of pressing her breasts together, putting her cleavage so directly in my line of sight that I can’t possibly look away. I can’t decide if she’s doing it naively or if she wants to get a rise out of me. In a literal sense.

  “Like I said, you’ll beg me to hit on you.”

  Belle rolls her eyes. “I’ll do no such thing,” she says. “Just because we had one kiss doesn’t mean that anything else is going to happen between us.”

  “Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Belle,” I say. “But we both know you’re thinking about my lips on your lips.”

  She shrugs. “It was no big deal,” she says. “I’ve had better kisses.”

  “I wasn’t talking about those lips,” I say, looking down.

  Her eyes go wide again. “We did not do anything like that,” she protests.

  “We didn’t,” I say. “That doesn’t mean you haven’t been thinking about it. And we both know you’re lying about having had better kisses. I looked up your ex-fiancé. I saw photos of him. He wasn’t lighting your world on fire.”

  “You have no idea what my kisses have been like,” she protests. "Or my love life. At least mine has been tame enough that I don't have to worry about any fires down there."

  "Is that your clumsy attempt to insinuate that I've got some type of VD, luv?" I ask.

  "I told you I looked you up," she says. "You have a revolving bedroom door. That's what the magazines say."

  I lean closer to her. "Don't worry, Belle," I whisper. "I'm clean as a whistle. You could even have me bare, if you like."

  "Oh my God," she says. "That is not what I was implying."

  "Hey, you're the one who keeps bringing up my cock," I say, enjoying the appalled look on her face.

  "I am not bringing up your…" Belle's voice drifts off, and she glances over her shoulder and down the hallway. "Penis."

  "Penis," I say, laughing. "That's sexy. You can say the word, luv. Cock. Admit you can't stop thinking about it."

  "I am not going to admit it," she says, groaning in frustration. "I can't even remember why I came down here now. I should have known it was a mistake."

  She whirls around before I can stop her, and flounces off in the direction of her room.

  10

  Belle

  "This is so bizarre, and yet so exactly a Kensington kind of story," Raine says, her voice partially muffled on the phone as she turns to tell someone in the room to "hold on a minute." Raine did a stint in Africa, volunteering with another aid organization for six months while I was there. She's a free spirit, a hippie chick traveling across Europe with her boyfriend – and exactly the kind of outside perspective I need on all of this.

  "Wait, why is this a Kensington kind of story?"

  "Seriously, isn't this right up your family's alley?"

  "We're not royalty," I say, dropping my tone to a whisper. "It's insane."

  "But you're like, a real fucking princess," she says. "Soon to be, anyway."

  "Yeah, right," I say. "That's the last thing I want to be. And you can’t tell anyone, Raine. They haven’t made an announcement yet.”

  "Phoenix," she says, laughing as she calls for her boyfriend. "Belle is living in a castle. Like, for real. With a king and shit."

  "Shh," I say, cutting her off. "Seriously. That's not public knowledge. They're probably listening to my phone calls or something. I don't even have my passport."

  "They're keeping you prisoner?" she squeaks. "That's fucked up, Belle. You're an American citizen."

  "Relax," I say. "I think it just got misplaced or something when they unpacked my bags, maybe. I have to go to the embassy and get a new one.”

  "Do you want Phoenix and I to come pick you up?" she asks. "We're in Amsterdam for a few days. Protrovia wasn't exactly on our tour, but we're flexible."

  "It's okay," I say. I can't even imagine the shitshow it would be if Raine and her boyfriend showed up at the palace. I adore Raine, but the thought of her walking inside the palace, reeking of patchouli and weed and admonishing the royal household for their gratuitous wealth, is enough to make me giggle. "Maybe it's good that I'm here for a little while. Derek has texted me about a million times."

  "What?" she asks. "Screw that. Your ex-fiancé cheated on you with your maid of honor. You didn't respond, did you?"

  "Of course not," I say. "I'm just saying that maybe it's good I'm not in the States right now. Maybe I should be here for a little while."

  As I speak the words, I start to realize I might actually be considering staying for the summer.

  "Protrovia," she says. "Isn't that the place – Phoenix, who's that prince, the one who's always in the news? Albert. Prince Albert. I remember his name because of the whole dick-piercing thing. Is he gorgeous? Are they all ridiculous?"

  I groan. I haven't breathed a word about Albie to anyone. Not a single soul knows what happened in Vegas except Albie and I, and it's staying that way. "Yeah, I mean, I haven't really seen him much. I just got here. And, yeah. It's all pretty ridiculous."

  "He's the prince with the pierced cock, you know," she says. "Have you ever screwed a guy with a piercing? It's pretty fantastic." She pauses, then laughs and whispers to her boyfriend. "Yes, Phoenix, I'm talking about you."

  "No, I haven't done it with a guy with a pierced you-know-what." I sigh. I called the one person I thought would have never heard of Prince Albert, and she knows all about him and his pierced cock.

  "Well, you should," she says. "In fact, he’s what you should do while you're there. Shake off the cobwebs. You need a fling. Rebound sex."

  "I do not need rebound sex," I protest.

  Raine