And the idea of throwing her over my shoulder like a caveman makes my blood run hot.
She's the ultimate in forbidden – bodyguards don't touch princesses. I could lose everything.
But this is one princess I'll bring to her knees.
Alex
My bodyguard is a royal ass.
He's ridiculously arrogant, completely insufferable, and always plays by the rules.
B-o-r-i-n-g. I definitely don't do boring.
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's someone telling me what to do.
Yet the idea of him turning me over his knee makes me wet.
Princesses don't slum it with bodyguards – it's the ultimate transgression.
And they definitely don't fall in love.
Excerpt
"You're not going anywhere with him, princess." Max grabs my wrist, his expression dark.
"I'll go wherever I damn well please," I huff, shaking off his grip despite my nearly overwhelming attraction for this man.
My bodyguard.
The most irritating, possessive brute in the universe. The man who's been telling me what to do for the past year, bossing me around like he owns me. Overstepping his role. Looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off.
I could have requested another bodyguard a dozen times. I could have traded him for someone else. Someone professional. Someone who has respect for my position, the fact that I'm a royal. Someone who doesn't think that an appropriate method of protecting me is to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder to physically remove me from whomever he thinks I need protecting from – usually an attractive man hitting on me.
"No, princess. He doesn't take you anywhere. He doesn't put his hands on you. He doesn't put his mouth on you. He doesn't fucking look at you."
"He doesn't look at me?! Are you insane? You're certifiable if you think you have any right to tell me who I can and can't see!"
"That's right. He doesn't fucking look at you."
"We're in a fake relationship, Max. All of this – " I gesture wildly to emphasize my point, but really because I need to put some space between us before I wind up crossing the line with him and doing something I can't take back. "It's not real. Just because I made up a scandalous thing with you to take the heat off my brother doesn't mean you should actually take it seriously."
"Tell me how fake this feels, princess." He pulls me against him, his hardness pressing into my leg and sending arousal coursing through me like a wave. I take a deep breath and tell myself to stay in control.
I'm not the kind of girl who goes weak-kneed over a guy. I don't get a rush or butterflies in my stomach at the thought of a crush. In fact, I don't do crushes. I don't do relationships or 'I Love You's or pet names or talk about breakfast the next morning, let alone next week or forever.
I definitely don't take off the shirt I wore the time Max threw me over his shoulder, the shirt with the briefly-lingering scent of his cologne, and fall asleep with it near my pillow so I can breathe him in at night.
And right now, I'm absolutely not thinking about how desperately I want his mouth on me.
"Does it feel fake to you, Alexandra?" Max asks again, his hand on the small of my back as he holds me tightly against him. His lips are inches from mine, and I don't meet his gaze because if I do, it's over. If I do, I'm crossing that line with him and we're never coming back from it. "Because I don't think it's fake for you. I think if I reached between your legs, I'd find that you're wet."
"No," I whisper, uttering the most obvious lie that's ever been spoken. I set my jaw and my resolve. "And you need to remember your position."
I inhale sharply as he spins me around, pulling my hands above my head and pinning them to the wall. "What do you want my position to be exactly, princess?" he asks, his mouth near my ear. His warm breath sends goose bumps scattering across my skin. "Do you want me on top of you, fucking you slowly, teasing you with my cock until you're begging for release? Or do you want me to bend you over and take you from behind? Or…"
With one hand still holding my wrists against the wall, he runs his palm down the length of my body until he reaches my ass. Then, he yanks up the side of my skirt, his palm coming to rest on the side of my thigh. I inhale sharply at his touch, but this time when I exhale, it sounds more like a moan. "Or do you want me like this, fucking you up against the wall right now?"
"I want…" My voice drifts off as he pulls my skirt up higher until it's around my waist and my ass is completely exposed to him.
"This," he says, moving his hand between my legs, "is mine. Not his. Not anyone else's. Mine."