Page 37 of Royal Cocktail

He took a step toward her, and she realized that, yeah, he’d totally dare. Whatever the prince wanted, Jürgen would do.

She sucked in a breath and decided to change her approach. “You … love him, too. Do you really want him to … be miserable?”

He crossed his arms over his massive chest and stared her down, as if he was just waiting for her to finish so he could toss her over his shoulder and carry her down to the street.

“You know he wants me there. And … we deserve it. He can’t just … unilaterally stop it.”

“He’s my prince who will soon be my king. I think he can unilaterally do pretty much anything he wants.”

“Including being an ass?”

Jürgen didn’t smile, but his eyes flickered with amusement. Skye considered that a win.

“This thing can’t … go anywhere. We’re not … stupid. But I’m helping him with the constitution. And he’s helping me … with my speech. So we’re going … to be together anyway.”

Jürgen said nothing. Another victory, as far as she was concerned.

“Tell me this—does he really love me? You’re … one of his closest friends. If you tell me he doesn’t, then I’ll go away. But if he loves me, then don’t we deserve to have whatever time we can grab?”

For a moment, Jürgen said nothing, just looked at her with those hooded eyes, his expression unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. He took a step toward her, and Skye held her breath, but managed to hold her ground.

“Do you love him?”

Skye drew in a breath, then managed a watery smile. “Is that really a question you have to ask?”

She watched as the decision played out over Jürgen’s face. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a key card. “If I get fired, I expect a job working security at your firm.”

“You got it,” she said, her knees weak with relief.

“And Skye…”

She was already at the door. Now, she looked back over her shoulder.

“You’re good for him.”

“He’s good for me. Wish me luck?”

He tilted his head, and she turned back toward the penthouse. She drew a breath, inserted the card, then quietly stepped inside. There was no sign of Leo in the living area. She paused, her head tilting as she picked up the muffled sound of running water.

The shower.

Right. Well, that was a forward approach, wasn’t it? Then again, he wouldn’t kick her out if she was naked. Would he?

She stripped off her clothes, tossing them on the ground on the far side of the sofa, just to make it more difficult for him to get rid of her.

Then she took a deep breath, stepped through the open door into the bedroom, and walked the short distance to the bathroom. The door was closed, but not locked. Why would it be? He was alone, after all.

She gently pushed the door open and was immediately lost in the thick, hot steam. She stood for a moment to get her bearings, then saw the glass shower stall. His back was to her, his face in the spray. She squared her shoulders, walked to the stall, and slowly pulled open the door.

She stepped in behind him, her hands settling on his hips. “Leo,” she whispered even as he stiffened, one quick jolt of fear eclipsed by relief. And, she hoped, by longing.

She moved closer until her breasts were pressed against his back, and she slid her hands around to stroke his cock. His body tensed, and though she wanted to take him all the way, she wasn’t disappointed when he spun around, one hand cupping her head as his mouth closed violently over hers. He pushed her back, his lips hard on hers, his tongue warring with her own. She felt the cool glass against her back in contrast to the wet heat of the shower—and to Leo’s body, hot and hard and slick against hers.

“How are you here?”

His words were muffled by the press of his lips against her neck, then down lower until his teeth grazed her nipple. She made a squeaking noise, but couldn’t manage a response.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his hands belying his words as his palms stroked and teased, his fingers slipping between her thighs, the intimate touch making her body shake as she moaned.