Royal Treatment Read online

  She sent the email, then—because she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on research right now—picked up her needles and some nice sport-weight yarn and spent the next ten minutes knitting while she waited for Eric’s reply. When her inbox dinged, she had his memo open in two seconds flat.

  * * *

  Dear Anna,

  * * *

  Flirting 101 is an excellent choice of topic. Men usually aren’t subtle about who they’re attracted to, so that part’s fairly easy, and it’s also pretty simple to let a man know you’re enjoying his attention. Just to use the two of us as an example, were I attracted to you I might find excuses to be around you, and to touch you. I’d focus on you to the exclusion of other people around me who might merit my attention more. Watching where a man’s gaze goes can also be very useful. I might stare for just a moment too long at your lips, wondering what they would taste like, and maybe also turned on by the way you drop your mouth open a little when you’re caught off guard. Or maybe you might catch me looking at your hair, fantasizing about what it would feel like to touch it.

  If you’re attracted to a man who shows these signs, you can flirt back physically by leaning in toward him and touching him lightly on the knee or arm. You can also flirt verbally by complimenting the man, a technique that can never go wrong.

  * * *

  Sincerely,

  Eric

  * * *

  Anna stared at the screen, feeling a little bit naughty and excited and also a little bit worried. If she didn’t know better, she would say the memo had made it sound like Eric might actually have a thing for her. Had he really noticed that she opened her mouth when she was flustered? And yesterday at the restaurant, she remembered him staring at her hair. She’d felt awkward then, sure that he thought her new haircut was weird or something, but judging from this flirting lesson she could re-interpret it as flirting.

  She pressed her lips together, torn. She’d chosen the format of memos in part to put more professional distance into this arrangement and make herself feel more comfortable, but this was starting to feel even less professional than before. And she’d practically asked for it, with her request for a flirting lesson. She should end this now, before it got out of hand.

  She tapped her hand against the mouse. Or…she could ask for critique on her flirting skills, and use Eric for live practice. In for a dime, in for a dollar, right?

  She typed the email quickly, before she could think about it too hard, and sent it. His enthusiastic agreement came in seconds later.

  She closed the laptop, put her head down on top of it, and groaned. What had she done?

  And why was she so turned on by it?

  7

  Anna dipped the nail polish brush in the bottle and finished painting the last, tiny stroke of red on Eric’s big toe. She leaned back and nodded in satisfaction. “There,” she said. “The crest of Danovar, as requested. It’s fast-drying, so you should be able to move in just a minute.”

  They were sitting in one of the labs late at night, waiting on a result to come in from an analyzer that was taking its sweet time. Somehow they’d gotten onto the topic of mani-pedis and Eric had agreed to let her practice on him.

  He examined her work and whistled, impressed. The roaring griffin matched the tattoo on his chest, which she’d apparently committed to memory—completely by accident, and not because she’d been fantasizing about his pecs. Not much, at least. “Holy hell, woman, you have talented hands,” he said.

  She grinned and blushed. “Thanks. I love doing the really complicated, small details. It helps keep my fine motor skills sharp for the lab. Last week I did a periodic table of the elements theme for mine, but it’s worn off. I’ll need to do something new soon.”

  Eric sat up straighter. “Let me try. I mean, I can’t promise periodic table of the elements-level results, but I think I could probably manage to get most of the paint on the nail.”

  She hesitated. “Okay,” she said at last, because what was her time with Eric about if not trying new things?

  He sorted through the colors she’d brought out from her desk while she slipped off her pumps. She glanced at the analyzer’s screen, anxious for it to hurry up and spit out the results already. She had a hunch they would be good, and her gut was hardly ever wrong, but they were about to start phase two and as a scientist she couldn’t move forward with that until these results gave her solid proof that phase one had been a success.

  Eric held up a seductive cherry red for her approval. “I think it suits you,” he said.

  “If you say so,” she said doubtfully. Red was for sexy women, brazen women, women who liked to talk dirty and knew how to please their men. Her stepsister Ella could probably pull off red. Daphne definitely could. Anna, though—she’d always thought she was more of a sensible navy-blue girl, or maybe a good old clear coat. With the exception of her themed designs, of course, but Eric had already said he wasn’t going to try one of those.

  Eric lifted her foot onto his lap and started applying the polish. She shivered at his touch—how was it that him handling her arch like that, so gently with just his fingertips as he adjusted her position, could feel so intimate? She slid a little deeper into her seat and relaxed, her eyes drifting half-closed as he worked. She even started thinking that maybe, possibly, they could begin working on her first physical flirting lesson tonight. She’d never been kissed before, and that was definitely something she’d need to learn if she wanted to be able to date properly. Plus, the way he was touching her hands and feet was one hell of a turn-on, and if she didn’t work out some of this sexual build-up soon she was going to boil over. By the time he finished her fingernails, she’d decided to ask him to kiss her, and she wasn’t anxious about the test results at all anymore.

  Until the analyzer dinged.

  They both sat up straight. Eric read the results first and whooped, thrusting the nail polish in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about!” he shouted, beaming at her. “Look at that. I told you your study was the best thing out there. Who else gets results that positive this early in the game?”

  “Don’t get too excited, we still have to wait a few more minutes to get the printout with all the details.” Still, she couldn’t help but grin at his enthusiasm—then tilted her head. “Wait a second, how did you even know what those results meant? To most people, that data would look like gibberish.”

  “Oh, I actually have a degree in chemistry. I didn’t make it public because…” he shifted, looking faintly uncomfortable. “I guess I didn’t want it splashed across the headlines if I failed.”

  “Judging from how quick you parsed those results, you must’ve gotten an A in all your courses.”

  He smiled again. “A-plus, thank you very much.”

  He screwed the cap back on the polish and started blowing on her toenails to dry his work. She shivered at the delicious feel of his breath on her toes and across her ankles. More interested than ever in this man who apparently had hidden depths—who’d have thought the party-boy prince was secretly interested in chemistry?—she swallowed hard and plunged ahead. “Eric. I think you should teach me how to kiss now.”

  Eric froze, lifting his eyes to Anna’s. She was flushed, her gaze intent, waiting for him to answer. “You mean…by example?” he asked carefully. Please, God, if you’ve ever cared about me at all let her say yes.

  He was dying to kiss her. Had been dying to kiss her ever since the first time he saw her, way back at the Summer House Party, when he’d invited her to have a margarita with him and she’d snubbed him in favor of a date with a stack of books from the royal library that had to weigh more than he did. Even then, when he’d thought she was too serious and boring—how had he ever thought she was boring?—those full lips had beckoned to him.

  “Yes,” Anna breathed.

  He puckered his lips and blew on her toes again, taking his time, relishing the moment. “First lesson, then,” he said. “It’s all about build-up. Half t
he fun is in the anticipation of the thing.” He lifted her fingers and blew on her still-wet nails, delighting in her shiver. Then he placed her hands on the arms of her chair and ducked down to pull some yarn from the bag at her feet. He looped a strand lightly around one wrist and armrest and tied it in a nice little bow, then cut the thread and gave her other hand the same treatment.

  “What are you doing?” asked Anna, her voice low and throaty.

  “No way am I letting you mess up my handiwork,” he said, tying the last knot with a flourish. “This is the best mani-pedi I’ve ever given.”

  “I thought it was the only mani-pedi you’ve ever given.”

  “Exactly.” He moved his roller-chair closer until they were side by side, then, slowly, he moved his hand over her arm, skating a light touch down to tap on the knot. “Now you won’t have to worry about getting messy during the lesson.”

  Although he certainly had some ideas for some very, very fun ways to get her messy.

  Her eyes flicked down to the knots and then back up to him, half-lidded with desire. When she bit her bottom lip it nearly did him in. Unable to wait another second, he leaned over across the arms of their chairs and slowly, gently, captured her lips with his.

  She exhaled sharply with pleasure, and her fingers curled around the ends of the chair’s arms. “Oh,” she sighed softly, her lips parting with the word. He angled his mouth lightly across hers, forcing himself to keep it chaste and gentle even though that little sigh of hers had him wanting to take the kiss deeper, to let his mouth show her how much she turned him on. His cock was hardening already, throbbing in response to her surprised delight—but this was her first kiss, and he didn’t want her to get scared off if he got too intense too quickly. Plus, this was all still in the name of flirting lessons, not anything official. She was practicing for when she kissed another man.

  At that thought, his hands tightened on her wrists. Forget chaste and gentle, he suddenly wanted to show her how good making out could be. How good making out with him could be. He took advantage of her open mouth, swept his tongue over her bottom lip, deepened the kiss just a touch and moved one of his hands to her collarbone. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hand and her breaths came in pants, and he wanted to shout in victory again as she leaned into him. He felt invincible, all-powerful. How was it she could do that, with nothing more than her kiss?

  He needed more of her. He needed to show her how much he wanted her right now, needed to show her how desirable she truly was. The collar of her shirt was slightly open, the top button left undone, and he traced his thumb across her collarbone, down into that little dip above her sternum. The feel of her skin was intoxicating, smooth and silky. He wanted to memorize every freckle, every curve, every place where his touch made her shiver.

  His hand dipped further down, skating over the top of her shirt now because he didn’t want to spook her by moving too quickly but damn, those perfect, perky breasts had been calling to him for ages. She must’ve been wearing a thin bra because he could feel her pebbled nipple through the fabric. He brushed his thumb over it and she caught her breath, making a tiny noise into his mouth, and fuck, he wanted to pull her up out of that chair and onto his lap and show her the best possible way make out sessions like this could end. He could see it in his mind’s eye: the way they would fit together, the arch her neck would make when she dropped her head back in mindless pleasure, the way it would feel to fill her, to feel her tighten around his hard cock. He would take that pebbled nipple into his mouth, make her cry out for him. He would make her pant and moan and cum until she couldn’t even think about ever kissing anyone else, anyone but him.

  The analyzer dinged again, and the rattle and buzz of paper being printed jolted him from his fantasy.

  He pulled back. Her lips were swollen, her eyes unfocused, her chest heaving with her uneven breaths. Her fingers were still curled tightly over the arms of her chair. After a moment they loosened, and she blinked rapidly a few times and shook herself. “The, uh, the results,” she said huskily, and cleared her throat.

  “I’d say the results were quite good,” Eric replied smugly.

  She blinked again and then pressed her lips together against a smile as her breathing slowed back to normal. Ever the studious scientist, even in the face of what they’d just done—and what she’d just done for the first time ever—she fiddled with the yarn tying her down until the neat bows came undone and then swept up the analyzer printout. Eric noticed, though, that it took her twice as long to read the first page as it normally did.

  He scooted a little further away to shut down the analyzer for the night, giving his body time to settle before he got up and tugged his jacket on. As much as he wanted to sit back down and continue tonight’s lesson until neither of them could think straight, he needed to respect the terms of their agreement. She hadn’t given any indication that she was ready to take things further yet, and anyway, he was supposed to be teaching her about seduction, which was all about delayed gratification.

  But by all that was holy—he hoped she would be ready for part two of this session soon, because he had never been less a fan of delayed gratification than he was at this moment.

  8

  Anna paced outside the castle gate, cursing the security guard. Surely it shouldn’t take this long to check that she was who she said she was, and that she had permission to visit the castle whenever she wanted. She was the Queen’s sister, for crying out loud. And never mind that both Ella and Eric had asked her to get an official ID made, which would’ve avoided this whole hassle. She’d been busy trying to cure cancer. She could hardly be expected to drop everything to fill out yet more paperwork to get yet another ID.

  She groaned, wanting to smack herself. Of course it was her fault. She should’ve unglued herself from her workstation long enough to follow her sister’s requests long ago, but it was too late now, at least for today. She had some results she wanted to show Eric, and she knew he’d mentioned having plans with friends this afternoon. Hopefully she could still catch him before he left.

  She marched back up to the guard station and gave the man a death glare. He fumbled the phone as he dialed, stammering a question to the supervisor on the other end. It would be her luck she’d get the new guy.

  “Everything okay?” asked a voice from her side. She glanced over at another man, who appeared to also be waiting for security clearance.

  “Yes, it’s just taking longer than I thought,” she said shortly, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.

  But: “I know, right?” the man answered. “Between you and me, Saturdays are the best days to visit. Fred is always on duty then, he gets things done much faster.”

  She stared at him. Small talk. He was making small talk. Okay, it was okay, she could do this—she’d prepped for situations like this with Eric. She shuffled through her mental flash cards of appropriate tones and topics. According to her homework, this situation called for agreement and a friendly, open-ended question that would allow the conversation to continue if the other party so desired. “That’s a good tip. Do you come here often, then?” she answered after a second, and was relieved when he smiled back easily.

  “Pretty frequently,” he said. “Though my schedule got thrown off a bit this time around because of the match this weekend.”

  “The match?” she asked blankly.

  “Yeah. Rugby. It was England versus Scotland on Saturday and oh man, wasn’t that scrum amazing?” He whistled. “I missed my standing appointment here, but damn was it worth it.”

  “Oh! Of course, that scrum was absolutely amazing,” she said, internally panicking. She didn’t know anything about rugby. None of her small talk lessons had covered it, and she wasn’t exactly the sporty type. It was like football, right? Only more dangerous, or muddier, or with fewer people or more people or something?

  “Hey,” the man said then, “you’re that researcher, aren’t you? The one Prince Eric has been funding?”
r />   “Yes!” she yelped, grabbing onto the more familiar topic with both hands. Research, she knew how to talk about. “I mean, yes, that’s right, I’m Dr. Anna Fernstone. Eric and I have been working together,” she said, forcing her voice to a more subdued, normal tone.

  “How’s that going? Working with him must be fun, if the tabloids are anything to go by.”

  Anna flashed back to the mani-pedi, to the feel of yarn around her wrists and his lips on hers. He’d smelled like peppermint and something musky and intoxicating. And the way his thumb had brushed over her nipple…her core tightened at the memory. Thanks to Eric, her first kiss had been sexy, amazing, magical. She’d ended the night aching for his touch, wishing she would’ve asked him to take the lesson further. “You could say that,” she answered the man. “Fun is definitely what Prince Eric does best.”

  The guard called her name and she parted ways with her small-talk partner, relieved that her first round of unexpected real-world practice hadn’t been a complete disaster. But by the time she made it to Eric’s suite, she was overthinking the whole conversation, picking apart her flaws and weak spots.

  “I need to know more about rugby,” she blurted when Eric opened the door.

  “Hello to you too,” he said cheerfully. He opened the door wider, inviting her in, and she entered. His room was all man, clean lines and comfortable leather and touches of old-world wood on the furniture. There was a pool table in the middle of the living room—because of course there was—and the kitchen had two shelves full of what looked like very expensive booze. She took it all in, smiling a little at this private glimpse into Eric’s life, and then frowned sharply. It probably wasn’t so private at all. How many women had stood where she was? How many women had he invited over for a drink, how many bras had hung over the back of that couch? She’d caught herself thinking that the other day in the lab, their kiss, had been special, but she needed to remember that it was just business for the both of them. She wasn’t anything like his other conquests. She wore sensible cotton panties and sometimes her bras didn’t even match them, and they’d certainly never been slung over the back of a man’s couch. He was here to teach her, that was all. She needed to remember that lest she read too much into his lessons.