Page 6 of Striking
Why would I?
I’ve got a beautiful woman next to me with miles of tanned, toned, perfect skin on display and a raging hard on in my shorts as she giggles about something she just said to herself. Sober Bellamy might be quiet, but slightly sloshed Bellamy certainly isn’t.
It’s strangelyrelaxing.
Something I haven’t felt in months.
And I’m as hesitant to embrace that feeling as I am to let go of it.
“Rhys?”
I drag my eyes up Bellamy’s legs again. This time, they’re bent at the knees next to me as she digs her feet under my thigh. It took her a few beers to loosen up and get chatty. But once she did, she decided she doesn’t give one single shit that I’m the heir to the throne. It’s been a minute since I’ve been able to say that about anyone... and it’s fucking fantastic.She’sfantastic...
Leave it to Lennon to place this woman in my path.
That was probably her plan all along.
My little sister loves to give me shit about my love life, but I thought now that hers was stable, she’d let up. Guess I was wrong.
“Hellooo... Earth to Rhys...” Bellamy snickers at my silence. “Come on. It’s your turn to answer.”
Right. My turn.
According to her, when Americans are bored and stuck in a storm, they get drunk and play games. I can think of a farbetter way to spend the night, but somehow with her, this works. “Remind me what the question was, love.”
She giggles, and my cock jerks in my shorts.
Fuck . . .
“What exactly do you do for work? It’s not all ribbon cutting and speeches every day, is it?” She leans her head back against the couch, showcasing her inky black lashes and her dark hair splaying out behind her like a naughty halo.
Yup. I’m a goner.Fuck me.
“Hardly.” Although that sounds pretty good most days. “Mornea is a constitutional monarchy. I work with my grandfather and Parliament in all areas of the government. It’s all boring rubbish, but it keeps me busy.” She looks disappointed with my answer, so I drop my hand on her knee and squeeze.Bad move.Her skin is soft, and my dick is hard. Nothing good can come of this. When her eyes zero in on the contact, I squeeze again. “But I do get to use the oversized scissors to cut the occasional ribbon or two.”
That perks Miss Wilder right up, bringing a beautiful smile to her delicate lips. Lips I can’t stop picturing wrapped around my cock. “Remind me, Bellamy, how old are you?”
“Twenty-six. Why?” She scrunches her eyes like she’s trying to do math but having a hard time. “How old are you?”
Christ. She’s so young.
I force my hand to stay put and not slide down her creamy thigh like my fingers are itching to do.
This is not a stranger.
This family means something to my sister.
My sister, who’s been yelling at me for fucking my way through Mornea since we lost our mother.
“Too old,” I groan.
“How old is too old?” She nibbles her lip and bats those lashes again.
My thumb traces circles on her knee. “Thirty-three.”
“Damn,” she giggles again and finishes her beer. “You’re practically an old man. Do you need a cane to help you walk?”
Before I can answer, a bolt of lightning flashes behind us, and a tree cracks. Bellamy practically jumps out of her skin and her bikini as she jolts up and into my side. Her perfect breasts are pushed up in the tiny halter top tied behind her neck, and I swear to everything holy in this entire bloody world, I’m going to hell because all I want to do is untie that perfect pink bow.
