Page 24 of Trust Me

It makes me feel like a fucking idiot that I told her not to bring her hookups over because she’s never even had any. McCoy could be lying, but if he’s not, it only makes things that much worse for me.

Not only is Jasmine the daughter of my coach and friend, she’s innocent. I absolutely cannot touch her now, or ever for that matter. Not with the kind of sex I’m into.

It would only scare her away.

But the second I think of some young fucker laying a hand on her, it makes me see red again. I know I can’t have her, yet it makes it even more tempting. To be the one to teach her how to fuck? How to suck my cock or come on my tongue?

Yeah, I want that. Badly.

I want to claim all of her firsts, even though I have no right to. It’s a physical pull, one I felt the day we met three years ago. And that’s the problem, because it’s purely lust, but I’m not going to fuck up my relationship with Ned or put a strain on her relationship with him all because I want her.

Fuck it.

If I can’t have her, I’ll make sure no one else does either.

Chapter 10

Jasmine

Elio hasn’t come back home yet, and I know this morning he mentioned wanting to cook dinner for us tonight. I debate on texting him to let him know that I’ll be at Camille’s, but he’s not my father.

He doesn’t need to know when I’m coming and going.

So I leave the apartment and make my way to Camille’s. I knock on her door and wonder if it’ll be Camille or her roommate who I’ve never seen or heard of. I’m starting to think she doesn’t have one, and it hurts, because why wouldn’t she let me stay with her then?

Camille answers the door, dressed in a loose T-shirt and yoga shorts with slippers on her feet. “Pizza is here. Come on in.”

I enter the space, noticing how different it looks from Elio’s. Whereas his space is filled with dark tones, Camille’s is bright. The walls are a cream color, and the couch is gray, but there’s color everywhere else.

The throw pillows are pink and yellow, with a light blue blanket thrown over the chaise part of the couch. There’s art on the walls, fresh flowers on the coffee table along with sports magazines.

It screams Camille.

After grabbing plates and a slice of the best pizza to exist, a classic pepperoni and cheese, we sit next to one another on her couch, a rock tune I don’t recognize playing in the background.

After we finish our first slice, Camille sighs. “All right, what do you want to know first?”

I cross my legs, sitting up straighter so that I can face her properly. “For starters, where’s your roommate?”

Camille’s brows pinch, a wince on her face. “About that…I don’t actually have one. I apologize, although I feel like I will be doing a lot of that throughout this conversation.”

“Why did you lie? What’s going on?” I prod. I hate being lied to, but if her reason is good enough, I’m willing to look past it.

Camille sets her plate on the coffee table, fiddling with her fingers in her lap as she takes a deep breath. “I’m going to start from the beginning and hope that it will make sense.”

I nod in encouragement, taking one of her anxious hands in mine. She smiles at our hands then returns her gaze to mine. “I’m from Lorsica, a small island off the French coast of Marseille. The island is run by a royal family, and I’m its heir.” She pauses before delivering another shocking news. “I’m the daughter of King Mylan Moulin and Queen Cecila Moulin.”

I’m pretty sure I’m not breathing as I take in the fact that one of my best friends is an actual real-life fucking princess. I thought royal families were a thing of the past.

“You’re a princess?” I whisper, still in shock.

Camille bites on her bottom lip, then nods. “Oui, my name is actually Princess Maribel Moulin. I have four older brothers, Antoine, Simon, Matheo, and Quentin.”

My brain feels overloaded, unable to process what this all means. “Wait, so how are you here? Do you have a bodyguard?”

“No, I don’t because I ran away. I’m secretly here in America, hiding from my family and what they’re expecting of me. None of them know I’m here, except Quentin. He abdicated to come to America and play baseball professionally. He actually plays for the Detroit Panthers now. He’s the one who helped me set everything up, from getting a new identification to providing me with the funds I need to live until I get a job post-graduation.

“So far, I haven’t heard anything from my family. I don’t know if they’ve stopped looking or caring, but I’m grateful they haven’t found me. I’m finally living my life the way I want to.”

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