The Princess Affair (23 page)

Hooking her fingers higher, she fluttered them gently and was rewarded by the sound of her name drawn out on a moan. Almost immediately, Sasha began to pulse around her. As their gazes met and held, Kerry felt herself begin to fall.

“I—I’m—”

Sasha grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her even closer. “Oh, yes. Kerry. Yes.”

As Sasha’s body clenched around her, ecstasy struck Kerry like a lightning bolt. Gasping Sasha’s name, she gave herself up to the fury of her own release.

When consciousness returned, Kerry found herself fully on top of Sasha, head buried in the curve between her neck and shoulder. Not wanting to crush her, she levered herself up and gently eased her fingers from the warm embrace of Sasha’s body. Only then did Sasha rouse. Blinking, she reached out to grip Kerry’s arm.

“Don’t—don’t go.”

At the vulnerability of her expression, Kerry turned onto her side and carefully wrapped her arms around Sasha, pulling her close. She kissed her forehead and stroked her hair, feeling as though her chest might explode at any moment.

“Shh. I’m right here.”

Sasha burrowed even closer, relaxing into her embrace. “Be patient with me,” she murmured, her words slightly muffled by Kerry’s shirt. “I just need a little time.”

“I know.” Kerry closed her eyes, enjoying the closeness she’d craved all week. “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”

*

As the car pulled up to the curb, Kerry stared out the window at the wooden double doors, above which
boujis
was inscribed in large, white script. This was it—the club Sasha was patronizing tonight. The line to get in wrapped around the block. Everyone in it was young and beautiful and obviously far more sophisticated than Kerry had ever been in her life. She swallowed hard and fiddled with her shirt collar. Harris had officially approved her attire—washed out jeans, a black linen shirt, and a gray sports coat. Thankfully, he hadn’t made her buy new shoes. Her scuffed Doc Martens were apparently “classic perfection.”

Of course, he had also claimed that Sasha wouldn’t be able to keep her hands to herself once Kerry arrived. That was patently untrue. Sasha would be keeping her distance tonight—at least, until they could meet up at Clarence House in the wee hours of the morning. For the entire drive down from Oxford, Kerry had been trying to prepare herself for the sight of Sasha flirting with rich, handsome men. As much as the idea made her feel nauseous, she could understand the stakes. In order to hide their relationship, Sasha would have to present a convincing trail of bread crumbs leading elsewhere—namely, into the most exclusive nightclubs in the city. She would need to leave either in the company of men, or with an established friend like Miranda.

Even as Kerry tried to psych herself up for the spectacle of the next few hours, she couldn’t help but wish they could dispense with all these cloak-and-dagger machinations. But that wasn’t possible for any royal. Arthur and Ashleigh had admitted in interviews that they’d been obliged to sneak around during their early courtship, and Sasha’s rumored conquests were the perpetual grist to the rumor mill. Only Elizabeth had escaped the glaring spotlight so far, but Kerry imagined that would change now that she was at university.

“Here we are, ma’am,” the driver said as he opened her door, jolting her out of her introspection. “I’ll await your call.”

“Thank you.” Kerry slid across the leather seats and stepped out onto the sidewalk. As she approached the entrance, she could feel the curious stares of those in line. At the whirs and clicks of nearby camera shutters, she stiffened in alarm before reminding herself that this was the point of her entering and leaving the club separately from Sasha—so that they wouldn’t be visibly linked by the ever-vigilant paparazzi.

After producing identification for the two impassive bouncers, Kerry waited while one scrolled through his phone. A moment later, he pushed open the door without saying a word. Immediately, the pulse of a DJ’s electronic beat filled her ears like a heartbeat. Shoulder blades prickling with self-consciousness, Kerry slid past the thick, dark curtain shielding the interior from prying eyes.

The club’s décor made her dizzy. Each wall was a gigantic screen on which blue and purple psychedelic patterns swirled in time to the music. Black couches and tall tables lined the periphery, while shimmering violet lights played across the glittering surface of the bar. The VIP entrance Sasha had told her lay just beyond the bar, and she quickly made her way across the room, deftly threading between knots of young, well-dressed patrons sipping drinks and talking loudly over the music. At the far end of the chamber, a raised stage was crowded with those brave enough to dance.

The VIP area was separated from the remainder of the club by another thick curtain, and once again she relinquished her ID into the hands of another bouncer. This time, he pulled the curtain aside and ushered her in. This room was much smaller and more intimate. Each table was topped with a pewter bucket holding a magnum of Moët. As she took in her lavish surroundings, Kerry recognized a male movie star whose name escaped her, but who appeared in all the romantic comedies these days. She didn’t care. The only person she cared about was—

When the princess’s distinctive laugh rose over the music’s low throb like a descant, Kerry felt as though an invisible hand had reached inside her chest to squeeze her heart dry. Turning in the direction of the sound, she stared into the far corner at Sasha who was flanked by two men. One of them held the large bottle and was tipping it slowly toward her waiting, open mouth. The liquid foamed out of the neck in a golden, bubbling torrent, and Sasha caught it expertly, swallowing once, twice, three times. Kerry’s mouth went dry with desire even as her stomach twisted like a fish on a hook.

And then something compelled the princess to look up. Sasha froze for a heartbeat, lips moist and eyes bright. Even separated by the width of the room, Kerry felt a charge pass between them, addictive and electric, and she felt herself falling faster.

A moment later, Sasha’s mask slid back into place. “Kerry! Come meet my friends!” She slung both her arms out along the bench, hands dangling near the men’s shoulders. “Alastair and Eugene went to university with me. Kerry is an American here on the Rhodes.”

“Pleasure,” said Alastair, sounding bored.

“Hello,” said Eugene, favoring her only the barest of glances. He smoothed one palm down Sasha’s thigh to lightly rub her knee. “Ready for more then, Sash?”

Kerry shoved her hands in her pockets to keep herself from jumping over the table and ripping the oversized bottle out of their aristocratic hands. So much for all her mental preparation. At the slightest challenge, her precious control had nearly gone out the window. She had to remember the facts. Sasha was a consenting adult. If she wanted to tease the animals this way, it was well within her rights to do so. Besides, she was playing a game. Acting a part. If she was doing so convincingly, well, hadn’t she been practicing all her life?

As she fought to suppress her rage, a slender arm slipped around her waist accompanied by the spicy scent of perfume. Startled, she glanced over to the sight of Miranda wearing a short, shimmering gold dress, nearly reaching her own height with the help of matching heels.

“Kerry, how lovely to see you again! Come and sit by me.”

Before she could reply, Miranda took her elbow and sashayed them over to the table next to Sasha’s. After sliding onto the blue leather bench, she patted the spot beside her with one hand while reaching for the champagne with the other. While she slowly filled Kerry’s glass, she introduced the others at the table. Sasha’s cousin, Lucy, sat directly across from her, perched on the knee of a ruggedly handsome man named Fergus who was apparently a famous cricket player. Next to them was Jillian, a childhood friend of Sasha’s from Roedean. Kerry had read up on the illustrious boarding school while she was procrastinating from her schoolwork a few weeks ago. Some called it the female equivalent of Eton.

Acutely aware of her manners, Kerry only sipped at her champagne despite wanting to down the entire contents of the flute. Around her, the conversation flowed in elegantly clipped syllables punctuated by bursts of laughter. At first, Kerry remained quiet, completely at a loss for what to say in such company. Their conversation topics ranged from holidays in Kenya to the newest watering hole in Mayfair, and she felt completely out of her depth. She tried to chime in on occasion, but mostly she just kept sipping, and risking the occasional glance in Sasha’s direction. When the movie star and two of his male friends joined her table, the spike of jealousy pierced through Kerry’s chest like a javelin. Eugene and Alastair weren’t enough? Now she needed to seduce Hollywood royalty, too?

“You look as though someone murdered your puppy,” Miranda said, her breath cascading across the shell of Kerry’s ear.

But then Jillian, who also seemed aware of her discomfort, engaged her in discussion about her course of study. For several minutes, they chatted about academics, before Lucy stood tipsily and exhorted them all to follow her to the dance floor. When Sasha got to her feet, movie star in tow, Kerry decided to stay put. She wasn’t a very good dancer, anyway.

Oddly enough, Miranda had stayed behind as well. “So,” she said, angling her body toward Kerry’s while refilling her glass. “How are you managing?”

“Managing?”

Miranda’s gesticulation took in the entirety of the club. “All of this.”

Kerry wasn’t about to admit to Miranda—whose glossy hair, perfect face, and glamorous outfit made her seem like a high-society robot instead of a human being—that she felt like a fish out of water.

“I’m fine, thanks. This is a great spot.”

“
Boujis
is one of my favorites. Sasha’s, too.” She cocked her head. “Speaking of whom, how is your relationship faring? Smooth sailing, I hope?”

Kerry didn’t have to feign the smile she felt on her face at Miranda’s use of “relationship.” Instinctively, she turned to watch Sasha sway to the music, wholly independent despite the crowd of admirers surrounding her. “She’s wonderful.”

“My favorite person in the entire world. I’m glad to see her happy. It’s been some time since she’s chosen to date someone.” Miranda gave her a conspiratorial look. “You’re the first woman, in fact.”

Kerry almost choked, and her eyes watered as champagne bubbles went right up her nose. “I am?”

“Oh, not the first woman she’s had, of course. She’s been snogging girls since boarding school. But the first she’s actually dated.”

Kerry was starting to feel dizzy, and not because of the alcohol. Was she really Sasha’s first true girlfriend? And in her case, what did that even mean? “How many relationships has she had?” she asked, unable to stop herself from probing for details.

Miranda toyed with the stem of her flute, the bright polish on her long nails glittering under the lights. “Let me see. Three…no, there have been four men. None of whom lasted for more than a few months.” She shrugged delicately. “Dating a princess can be a challenge. As you are no doubt discovering in the wake of that photograph.”

Kerry took another drink to hide her dismay. Sasha had never managed a relationship longer than a few months? Had she broken them off, or had these four men been unwilling to stand in her shadow?

“Sasha is well worth any challenge,” she said, trying to maintain an even tone. Her instincts were screaming at her not to betray too much emotion to Miranda.

“Oh, certainly,” she said airily. “She inspires loyalty in every life she touches. And who can blame her for having a roving eye?”

Studiously, Kerry kept her focus on Sasha, who was dancing more slowly now near the movie star. Did she really have a roving eye? Was Kerry doomed to be one more notch on Sasha’s bedpost, or did they have a chance to build something deeper, stronger, and more enduring? It wasn’t a question Miranda could answer, but perhaps Kerry could use her chattiness to her own advantage.

“Are you suggesting I should be worried about her and that movie star?”

“Luke Boyd? Of course not. He’s gay.”

Like mist before the sunrise, Kerry’s darkening mood lifted, and she laughed. Sasha was playing an elaborate game, but Boyd was in on the joke. Smiling broadly, she drained the rest of her glass and stood. The revelation made her want to dance—though not too close to Sasha, of course.

“In that case,” she said, looking toward Miranda as she stepped away from the table, “Let’s celebrate.”

The next morning, Kerry rested her chin on the Princess Royal’s bare shoulder, looking on as she pulled up the website of a popular British tabloid. Sure enough, a coyly smiling Sasha, linked arm in arm with Luke Boyd as they exited
boujis
, stared back at them from the laptop screen beneath the headline: “Sasha Boogies At Boujis With Boyd.”

“Brilliant,” Sasha murmured.

“Like clockwork.” Kerry drew her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck. “You know exactly how to work the system.”

“What do I get for being so clever?”

Kerry reached around her to close the laptop and put it on the nightstand. Sasha fell back onto the bed, eyes sparkling with mirth, lips curved in an inviting smile. When they had finally reunited at Clarence House late last night, Sasha had effortlessly taken control. Now, she was surrendering it.

“What did you have in mind?” Kerry asked, hearing the hoarseness in her own voice as she took in the sight of Princess Alexandra sprawled across their mussed sheets, her dark hair rippling over the pillow.

“Surprise me.”

In the next moment, Kerry had covered Sasha’s body with her own. After pressing several lingering kisses to her neck, she gently took Sasha’s earlobe between her teeth and was rewarded by a soft moan. “You are a work of art,” she murmured as she reached down with her free hand to cup Sasha’s hip and pull their bodies closer together. “Flawless.”

Sasha tugged at her hair. “Less talking. More sex.”

Kerry captured both her hands and held them above her head, ignoring the token protest as she ground her pelvis slowly against Sasha’s. “Patience, Princess. I’m going to take my time savoring you.”