“That’s what you said last night, too.”
“This time I mean it.” And then he kisses me, and any protest I might have expressed gets lost in the hurried joining of our mouths.
He groans when my tongue touches his. Strong hips rock against me, his hard-on rubbing my thigh. I move so that we’re on both on our sides, face-to-face, mouths fused together.
“Fuck,” he chokes out, and then his hand slips under my shirt. Into my panties.
His fingers tease me, pressing against sensitive spots that make me moan against his lips. We touch each other, running our hands over all the bare skin we can find, neither one of us coming up for air as we practically eat each other’s faces off.
It isn’t long before the knot of tension inside me breaks apart in a million little pieces. Pleasure soars through my body as I gasp into his mouth. Reed trembles against me, and this time I’m the one swallowing his groan of pleasure.
Afterward, we lie tangled up together, kissing for what feels like hours. I never want him to go. I want him to stay in this bed forever.
But just like last night, he’s gone when I open my eyes the next morning.
I wonder if I dreamed it, but when I roll over, I smell him on my pillows. His shampoo, his soap, the spicy aftershave he wears. He was here. It was real. The loss hits me hard, and not even the sunshine streaming in from the curtains can ease the disappointment I wake up with.
But then the disappointment is replaced with a jolt of panic, because a high-pitched shriek suddenly rings out through the mansion. I think it came from the front parlor, and I jump out of bed, throwing open my door just as another shriek assaults my eardrums.
“You are not getting away with this!” Brooke is screaming. “Not this time, Callum Royal!”
30
I reach the railing at the same time Easton pops out of his bedroom. His dark hair sticks up in all directions, and his eyes are bloodshot as he comes up beside me. “What the hell,” he mumbles.
We both look down at foyer, where Brooke and Callum are facing off. It’s comical almost, because she’s more than a head shorter than him thus posing the least threatening picture on the planet.
“It’s my right to be there!” Brooke shouts, jamming the center of Callum’s chest with one sharp fingernail.
“No, it isn’t. You’re not a Royal and you’re not an O’Halloran. It’s not your place.”
“Then tell me, what is my place? Why do I put up with all your bullshit then? You treat me like I’m your mistress instead of your girlfriend! Where’s my ring, Callum? Where the fuck is my ring?”
I can’t see Callum’s face, but I don’t miss the tension in his shoulders. “My wife’s body is barely even cold!” he roars.
Beside me, Easton tenses up, too. I reach out and take his hand, and he squeezes my fingers tight enough to bring a sting of pain.
“You expect me to just remarry like it’s no big deal—”
“Two years!” Brooke interrupts. “She’s been dead for two years! Get over it!”
Callum stumbles as if she’s struck him.
“I won’t let you string me along anymore. I won’t.” Brooke lunges forward and grabs the front of his dress shirt, bunching it between her fingers. “I am done with you, you hear me? Done!”
With that, she shoves his chest and spins toward the door, her high heels slapping the marble floor.
Callum doesn’t go after her, and when she realizes it, she whirls around and points a finger at him. “If I walk out right now, I am never coming back!”
His voice is colder than ice. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”
Easton snickers.
“You…you…you monster!” Brooke shrieks. She flings open the door with so much force that a gust of air blows through the foyer and I feel it from the second floor.
Her blonde head and minidress-clad body disappear through the threshold. She slams the door with equal force.
Silence crashes over the foyer. I see a flash of movement in the corner of my eye, and I turn around to find the other Royals standing behind us. The twins look sleepy. Gideon looks shocked. Reed’s face is impassive, but I swear I see a glimpse of triumph in his eyes.
Easton doesn’t even try to hide his glee. “Did that really just happen?” he asks us, shaking his head in amazement.
Callum hears his son’s voice, and his head tilts up to the railing. He looks stricken, but not devastated that his girlfriend just stormed off.
“Dad,” Easton calls out, grinning from ear-to-ear. “You the man! Come up here and gimme a high five.”
His father’s expression turns weary. Instead of answering Easton, Callum flicks his gaze toward me. “Since you’re awake, Ella, why don’t you come down to my study? We need to have a little chat.” Then he exits the foyer.
I bite my lip, hesitant to follow him. I suddenly remember what he just said to Brooke—how she’s not a Royal or an O’Halloran—and my anxiety grows. I have a feeling they were fighting about Steve. Which means that indirectly, it was also about me.