Royally Endowed(31)

“Nicholas, what do you think?”

But that can’t happen. It would change everything. Everything I’ve built for myself. My mates, my job, my whole life. I’ve always wanted to be a part of something bigger—something noble and lasting—and now I am. Messing with Ellie would obliterate that.

And the lass is fickle. Still young. She flits from boy to boy, interest to interest, like a frog hopping from one lily pad to the next.

“You look smashing. Very cute.”

If something ever did happen between us, it wouldn’t last—but the chaos it would bring, that would be forever.

“Cute? Oh God!” Ellie covers her face with her hands.

My gut tells me it’s not worth the risk.

Nicholas whispers to his wife, “Cute is bad?”

So I determined I would shut down this mounting attraction to a woman who’s out of my league. One I’ve got no fucking business looking at twice—let alone a dozen times a day.

“Of course cute is bad!” Ellie yells. “Mice are cute.” She gestures to the small dog sitting on Olivia’s lap. “Bosco is cute!”

Because I always go with my gut—and it’s never wrong.

Nicholas glances at the temperamental pooch. “No. No, he isn’t.”

Olivia covers the dog’s ears and gives her husband a harsh look. He winks back.

And that plan had gone smoothly—until today. This moment. When Ellie came charging through the door, muttering to herself like a madwoman yelling at pigeons in the park.

Olivia mentions giving Bosco a bath, and she and her husband both leave the room.

Ellie looks at Tommy. “Well? What do you think?”

She’s talking about her hair. She went to get it done for her big day—a college graduation makeover, she’d said.

Tommy winks. “I’d do ya.”

I may have to smother him in his sleep tonight.

The bright colors that used to streak Ellie’s blond hair are gone now. Leaving behind shades of deep honey and shiny gold—thick and soft. The kind of hair that begs to be touched and twirled . . . fisted and tugged on.

Ellie clicks her tongue. “That’s not saying much—you’d do a corpse.”

It falls just below her shoulders—exposing her face, making it look more angular, womanly—stunning. Her skin seems tanner, her shoulders more delicate, her tits fuller, her eyes a sweeter blue.

Tommy wags his finger. “Only if she were a pretty corpse. I have standards.”

And then, at last, she settles on me, her delicate features hopeful but hesitant. Her pink tongue peeks out and rubs the fullness of her bottom lip. And I feel it in my cock, the rub of that tongue—the nip and pull of her wet lips—ghosting up and down on my aching, hard flesh.

In my dreams we do that on the picnic table too—often.

“Logan?”

I’m so distracted by my musings, I miss her speaking my name, and for a bit, I don’t say anything at all.

“Oh well, it’ll grow back,” she says, embarrassment flushing beneath her cheeks. “Wearing a hat for the next six months won’t be so bad.”

I force the gravel from my throat.

“Beautiful.”

Ellie’s eyes flick back to mine.

“What?”

I hold her gaze, my tone deliberate and sure.

“You look beautiful, Ellie.”

Her smile is small and seeking. “Really?”

I don’t take my eyes off her. I wouldn’t—even if I could.

“Prettiest lass I’ve ever seen.”

So, so, so fucked.





They hold the graduation party on the garden rooftop of the penthouse—with waiters and Champagne and a trio of string musicians playing in the corner. I stand straight along a far wall, sunglasses on, watching, taking in the whole group. It’s fairly small—good friends, Ellie’s fellow students, her father and a couple family friends, as well as a few business associates from Nicholas and Olivia’s charity whom Ellie has gotten to know over the years.

Marlow, her still-wild friend from high school, walks up to me, a straw held tight in her cherry lips as she drinks an orange cocktail. Her eyes slide across the way to Ellie, then back to me.

She wags her finger. “You’re good, Costner. Very good. But I see you.”

The back of my neck gets hot, but my face remains impassive.

“Go away, Marlow.”

She’s not a bad lot, but she’s a shit-stirrer—she and Prince Henry would get on well if he were still single.

She smiles slowly, like a cat with a juicy mouse under its paw, and slinks up close to me. “It must drive you crazy.”

And, as if I’m hypnotized or cursed, my gaze follows hers . . . straight to Ellie.

Her head’s tipped back in a laugh at something someone just said, her eyes as bright as the sky above. The sunlight kisses her hair, giving it a golden glow. A halo.