London Royal (London Royal Duet Book 1) Read online

“Fine? I hardly call that fine.” I gestured to the tangled sheets around his legs along with sheen of sweat on his chest.

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sometimes I have nightmares. It’s fine.”

  I frowned. That was no regular nightmare. “How long have you had them?”

  He shrugged. “Since I was a kid. It’s no big deal. I’m sorry you had to wake up to that. I usually sleep alone.”

  I tucked that bit of information away. Him sleeping alone was a very good thing. Although, that could also mean he kicked out his sexual conquests after the deed was done, which was bad, but I’d worry about that later. “I was really worried. How often do you have these nightmares?”

  “It used to be only every once in a while when I was stressed, then in the last couple of months, they’ve been coming more frequently. A couple of times a week. Sometimes more than once a night.”

  “And you don’t know what they’re about or what’s triggered them?”

  His eyes shifted away. “No. I’m sorry I woke you. Let me make you breakfast.”

  I stiffened. I knew a dismissal when I heard one. He seemed so relaxed now. No, scratch that, more like resigned. “Look, you don’t have to talk about your nightmares with me, but don’t act like I’m crazy, okay? I’m only trying to help, but I guess talking about you isn’t part of the package.”

  He quirked a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I get it. You want me, but you don’t actually want to have to talk to me.”

  “Shit, Abbie, it’s not like that.” He shifted in bed and the sheet slipped, showcasing his killer body.

  I tried to focus on his eyes and his words, not his six-pack. “Then what is it like?”

  “I don’t know why I have them, and I mostly just deal with them. Don’t be mad. Please. I’m not shutting you out. I’m not used to sleeping with anyone. So, I’m not used to anyone asking about them. If we’re going to be sleeping together, I need to figure out what triggers them so I don’t wake you or I can stop having as many, but perhaps that’s something we can figure out later?”

  I bit my lip. Maybe he wasn’t ready to have this conversation, but we’d have to have it eventually. Just not today. “Okay. I can live with that.”

  He immediately changed gears. “So how about I make you breakfast?”

  Abbie…

  An hour later, I smiled up at him. I could get used to this. Sexy, shirtless Alexi, making me breakfast. It really should be a crime to have him walk around like this. If I didn’t have my camera in my hands, I’d be tempted to forget all about taking it slow with him.

  He looked up from the sizzling sausage in the pan and gave me a devilish grin. “What are you staring at?”

  “You.” I snapped a photo, oblivious to the light or the surroundings or the composition. I only wanted to capture him as he was. I held up my camera. “Do you mind?”

  Something flashed in his eyes, but then he shook his head. “Not as long as you’re my photographer.”

  I giggled. “This could get very dangerous, very quickly. There’s nothing sexier than a man cooking. Add to that he looks like you and he’s running around shirtless, and…”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “And what?”

  I grinned. “And you’d probably burn your sausage.”

  Laughter burst out of him, and he tossed a dishtowel in my direction. “You have a dirty mouth, Abena Nartey.”

  “You know, it’s weird, you are not the first person to ever tell me that.”

  “Somehow, I had a feeling.” He cracked eggs into a bowl one-handed, and I could only stare. Easton had never lifted a finger in the kitchen. Neither had my father, for that matter. My mother had forced me and my sisters to watch her cook from the moment we could sit in the highchair, so we would eventually be able to make okra stew, kenkey, and oxtail for our husbands.

  He checked the fridge. “Do you have any mushrooms?”

  “Oh, no. I’m allergic. EpiPen and everything.”

  He winced. “Got it. No mushrooms in your omelet then. I’ll tuck that away for future reference. Is it bad? Like do you need the hospital or anything?”

  “Not if I use my EpiPen right away. I usually just need to rest for a bit.”

  “That’s pretty scary, Abbie.”

  I shrugged. “It’s not so bad. Mushrooms are pretty easy to avoid.”

  I studied him intently and snapped another photograph.

  “You keep staring at me like that, and I’m likely to forget I promised to nourish you.”

  “I can’t help it. You’re beautiful.”

  His skin flushed, and I snapped another photo. Was he embarrassed? “This can’t be the first time someone has pointed out how good-looking you are.”

  He shook his head slowly. “No, not the first time. But it’s the only time it’s come from someone who mattered or didn’t want anything from me.”

  I bit my lip. “Well, given last night, I want all kinds of things from you.”

  He groaned. “Jesus, Abbie, you’re killing me. We actually have to leave the flat today, okay?”

  “Why?”

  He stalked toward me, then looped an arm around my waist and nearly crushed my camera between us as he kissed me. When he backed away, he ran his hands through his hair. “Because if I keep thinking about the fact that I have you here to myself, those pictures you’re taking will get a whole lot naughtier.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” What was wrong with me? I was never this open with anyone. Sexual banter wasn’t exactly something I did. With Lex, it came naturally, easily.

  Alexi’s smile sobered as he leaned forward on the kitchen counter. “So what are we doing here, exactly?”

  I froze. “Wasn’t that supposed to be my line?”

  “When I want to know the answer to something, I ask.”

  I used my camera like a shield. This was not a conversation I’d mentally prepared for. “I’m not exactly sure.”

  He nodded. “Okay, then let me be blunt. I’m falling hard for you. I know it’s soon. I know you are just coming off something, but I want you to be aware. You can take your time to figure things out. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He was falling for me? I shook my head, trying to right the fantasy. But all I saw was this half-naked, sexy, god of a man standing in my kitchen, making me breakfast. Everything inside me wanted to say yes. God, yes, that I wanted to be with him. But I didn’t have a clue how.

  “Alexi, I want you.” I licked my lips nervously. “You’re like this fantasy come to life for me. I’m having a hard time believing this is real. That you exist. That you want me. I—is it okay if I go a little slow? I’ve had crappy instincts for years. I want to be able to trust them again before I jump in with both feet.”

  Alexi turned down the stove then flipped the omelet. Slowly, he sauntered over to me with a smile. “Like I said, we’ll take this as slow as you want. I can wait for you to figure out how to trust me.”

  “It’s not that at all. I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust.”

  “Hush.” He kissed my forehead. “It’s okay. Just know that I care about you. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

  “You’re sure about that? Our friends, at least Sophie and Faith, will start dissecting us with a microscope and very sharp scalpel. Can we just keep this between us for now?”

  He studied me, his face inscrutable for a long moment. “As long as I get to see you, and I get to be with you, I don’t care if you never tell them.”

  As man lotteries went, I’d won the freakin’ jackpot. But I didn't want him thinking I was trying to hide him. “I’ll tell them. I just need to sort through everything first.”

  “Fair enough.” He nodded. “Actually, I’m thinking, why don’t we do something out of the ordinary?”

  “Like what?”

  “Have you been to Paris? We could catch the train, spend the night. Catch a flight back in the morning and I’d have you back before your class.”

&nb
sp; Paris? He was kidding right? “You’re not serious.”

  He shrugged. “Why not? I could use a trip out of town for a bit. And it is the most romantic city in the world. And I’d love to show you some of my favorite spots. What do you say?”

  This was his version of going slow? Except, Paris. The longing to live a fuller, more adventurous life pulled at me. But reality crashed in. I couldn’t exactly afford Paris. If even for a night. “I wish I could, but funds are a little tight right now. I still don’t have a job so it’s not the best idea for me. But I would love to see Paris with you. I’ve never been.”

  He chuckled. “Silly, beautiful girl. I’m asking you to go to Paris as my guest. Think of it as our first date. How long will it take you to pack?”

  As first date ideas went, okay, that was kind of baller. But a niggle of unease tickled the nape of my neck. “Alexi, I love the imagination, but that’s too much. I can’t let you pay my way to Paris.”

  “Why not?” His brow creased. “I owe you a proper first date. One where I take you out, and we eat and explore.”

  “And I don’t object to that. Or ultimately to Paris. I just object to you paying for it.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I want to.”

  And I wished that for once I could take the generosity and not think about it, but I couldn’t. “I’m sorry. It would make me feel funny. Like I’m being kept or something. I’d rather go somewhere on my own steam. Ya know?”

  He nodded, but his frown remained. “It’s only money, Abbie. I don’t mind.”

  “But I do. Maybe we can have fun in this city instead. There’s still so much I haven’t seen or explored.”

  For a second it looked like he wanted to argue with me. But then his brow smoothed out and he kissed me softly. “Fine, have it your way. Now, go get a shower woman. Breakfast will be ready soon, then we’re going to go out and have some fun.”

  “We could have fun—”

  He laughed as he shook his head while waving a spatula in my direction. “We’re going to have fun outside, so I don’t lock you in this flat and torture both of us by taking my time with you over and over again until neither one of us can walk. Now go.”

  He swatted me on the ass before turning back to his cooking sausage. I could get used to these feelings. Freedom and excitement and longing.

  Abbie…

  This wasn't supposed to happen.

  When I’d come to London, I’d been running. Running from myself, running from my past. Running from everyone. Running from everything.

  I wasn't supposed to meet someone. Hell, I didn't even feel like a whole person or like I was capable of taking care of myself entirely. How the hell was I going to avoid making the same mistakes I'd already made before?

  Already, I was too caught up. It was just too intense. He mattered to me too much. And it was terrifying because I was going to lose myself and there would be no coming back from this. If he broke me, or worse, hurt me, I wasn't going to recover. There was just no way. If I had been a shell of myself after Easton, I would be fractured and completely broken when Alexi hurt me.

  Or, maybe he won't hurt you.

  That was a nice thought, but a part of me knew better. Part of me knew that there were secrets he was hiding. Something he didn't want me to know. Part of me knew that he wasn't being transparent.

  Or you're being paranoid. You think he's like Easton, so you're looking for reasons.

  That was also true. As far as I was concerned, everyone was Easton. It was unfair. I saw Easton around the corner. I saw Easton in the face of every man that came within a foot of me. I saw Easton everywhere. Even when Ilani, or Sophie, or Faith made a quick movement, I saw Easton, preparing myself for the jolt of pain, the snap of surprise, the shiver of shame. I saw him everywhere. And that was on me. I had let him take over my life entirely. He’d been in charge of my emotions, my self-worth, and that was on me. Not on him. I had given up that much of myself and my power. And I wasn't going to do it again.

  I was determined to do things I loved to do regardless of what that meant for someone else. Call me selfish. I didn't care. And being with Alexi felt selfish. It felt like the last thing I should be doing because it felt good, and it was fun, and he made me smile. So for that reason alone, I was going to keep doing it. The parts that scared me were the parts where I felt protected with him, because I wasn't giving up that kind of control ever again. And I didn't know how to separate the two.

  That was probably something I needed to broach with Dr. Kaufman soon, but for the moment, it was fine. And I did feel safe with him, but there were a million ways to hurt me. There was something about him that told me my body was safe with him, that he would not bring physical harm to me. But that didn't mean he couldn't shatter my heart.

  I wasn't going to think about it. I was going to enjoy what I had. And right now, that was orgasms.

  I was a huge freaking fan of orgasms because I'd never had one with Easton. And knowing that I'd been missing out all this time made me want to kick my own ass for having lived with that for so long. Jesus! And my favorite part was that determined look Alexi would get on his face, eyes narrowed, determined, that oh-so-sexy smirk, knowing that he was going to have some fun playing.

  That shit was just plain hot. And I got to enjoy orgasms just for the sake of orgasms. Not having to reciprocate. Not having to worry that I wasn't pleasing him. He just wanted to please me for pleasure’s sake, and that was incredible.

  Over the last two days, we had been entwined in each other. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. We’d gone incognito wearing hoodies and sunglasses as we meandered around the South Bank, then headed west to the Notting Hill Festival. The whole day, my hand had been firmly tucked in his.

  When I'd finally sort of kicked him out of my flat that morning, he'd grumbled, but also complained that he had work to do and that I was too enticing a distraction. I'd taken the opportunity to pick up my camera. It had been a few days since I’d taken any shots, and I wanted to get back at it. After all, that was why I was there. Falling in love wasn't part of that.

  Who said anything about love?

  No, not love. Falling in like. That was the thing, right?

  The point was, I was there to study. And Alexi, while beautiful and enticing and fun, was not really at the top of the agenda. So, I needed to get back to it.

  I headed toward Kingston Upon Thames in the morning, taking my usual stroll up to the 65 bus stop, traversing along the Thames and humming to myself as I walked. It wasn't raining, thank God, but I had an umbrella packed, just in case. The sky was gray, but that was London, though it wasn't bad in terms of temperature. Cool enough for a jacket, but I didn't need all the accoutrement of hat, gloves, and scarf. None of that. As I marched, I smiled. When I made it to the bus stop, I perched on the seat and turned back toward the river, shooting the rowers as they passed. When the bus arrived, I climbed on the second level. It was my favorite spot with a vantage point. I hadn't planned on getting off until Kingston, but the park we passed had some kind of kid's fair going on, so I hopped off there. They had some entertainers I could probably capture with my old striker, hopping on and off the bus as I pleased.

  There were still some puddles around the bus stop, which I narrowly avoided by hopping. I bumped into a man dressed in all black and gave him a brief smile of apology. When his gaze pinned on me, icy blue, dead, flat, cold, I shivered. "Sorry," I mumbled and then scampered away from him as quickly as possible. The chill of the way he looked at me went bone deep. I made a mental note to avoid him again.

  There was a funny thing that happened when people saw you with a camera. Immediately, they ran up to you with their cell phone. "Oh, would you mind taking a photo of us?” I didn't mind. I wasn't in a rush. And truth be told, I was happy. Not in that way of wide-eyed exploration, but in a way that sort of settled in the bones.

  There were musicians and clowns in the park, and children laughed with delight while adults shook their heads in
disbelief at the street magicians. Laughter was everywhere when the street magician guessed a card and then pulled it out of some girl's hair. It was as if everyone else could feel my joy and elation too.

  I glanced over at the women's bathroom and I frowned. God, of course, there was a line. Could I hold it until I got to Kingston and find another bathroom?

  No.

  I trudged over as the first hint of drizzle permeated air. Ugh! Fantastic.

  As I stood in the line, I shifted on my feet. The chill I'd experienced when I first stepped off the bus hit me again. I frowned and turned around, but I didn't catch any glimpse of the man with the icy blue eyes. A woman with a baby squalling in a stroller came up behind me, and she reached in to stroke the little baby's hand. It was a toddler about age three, doing the universal pain-in-the-ass cry.

  "You can go ahead in front of me."

  The mother fed me a grateful smile and so did the little boy. All full of baby teeth and something blue sticking on his lips.

  The woman in front of me saw what I had done, and she rolled her eyes before stepping aside and saying, "Yeah, go on you two."

  In a tick, the woman was up to the front, the toddler boy saved by the kindness of strangers.

  I watched as two teenagers holding hands giggled and ran by to the side of the building.

  I looked ahead of me, and at least six women stood in line outside, which told me at least two more were inside as we waited. I could step around and catch a picture of the young teenagers in love then come right back and still be in the same spot. I skipped around the corner.

  But I couldn't find the couple. "Hello?"

  I was going to sneak up on them and just photograph them in the moment. I hoped I could get a photo of them at least hugging or something.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention again. Something told me, run.

  But like all those times when I’d made Easton angry, the way that little voice had screamed inside me, Run. Run away. Don’t come back. Run. I didn’t listen.

  Instead, I whipped around, ready to confront whoever it was giving me the heebie-jeebies because I refused to be afraid anymore. And there was the man with the ice-blue eyes. "Boy, you are a tough one to get a hold of."