Page 127 of The Charlie Method

“What?”

“I just feel like Will should know what he missed out on.”

An evil grin spreads across my face. “You’re mean.”

“Trust me, he’ll like it.”

Beckett pulls his phone out of his pocket and opens the camera. As he focuses in on my fingers, I rub the moisture lingering on his dick. After he snaps the picture and sends it, we rearrange our clothing as best as we can and exit the closet, thankfully into an empty corridor.

Within seconds, both our phones go off.

WILL:

Fuuuuuck. You’ll both be punished for this torture, I hope you know that.

I glance at Beckett. “He’s a lot more intense than I thought he’d be.”

“Oh, trust me. Not many people know the real Larsen.”

I suspect he’s right. I’ve been starting to form my own mental picture of Will. He’s much more than the easygoing, all-American jock he portrays himself to be. Behind that cute smile is a man whose ravenous gaze devoured me when I was naked in his bed.

He’s a hot onion too, I realize. They both are. Because I have the sneaking suspicion that Beckett is not as laid-back asheseems. And that he cares a lot more than he lets on.

THE VIRGIN AND THE BLADE/LOURDES

CHAPTER 9

YOU CANNOT CONQUER ME

The cold stone walls of the Tower of London loomed around Elizabeth like a cage. The damp chill bit through her once-proud gown as she sat in the dimly lit chamber, her regal posture defiant despite the chains that bound her wrists. Her crown was gone, her city had fallen, and yet her spirit remained unbroken.

The door creaked open, and the air shifted as Alexander stepped into the room. He wore no armor this time—only a simple tunic and cloak—but his presence was as commanding as ever. His conquering army had stormed London, his banner now flying above the palace.

Despite his victory, there was no triumph in his eyes as he gazed at the fallen queen.

“Elizabeth,” he said with the authority of a king who had conquered empires. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

She lifted her chin. “It is this way because you made it so,” she spat, her voice steady but filled with venom. “You may have taken my city and my throne, but you will never take my loyalty. I am the Queen of England. I will never bend the knee to you.”

Alexander knelt before her—not out of submission but something far more profound. He reached for her chains but did not touch them, his hand hovering just above her bound wrists as though the mere act of being close to her was enough to undo the iron links.

“Must you always be so proud?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers. “Is your pride worth all this? The Tower, the chains, the broken city?”

Elizabeth’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “Pride? You misunderstand me, Alexander. This isn’t pride. It’s duty. It’s love for my country, for my people. I would rather die in chains than live in submission.”

His gaze darkened, not in anger but…admiration. She was everything he had heard: unyielding, fierce, as sharp as a blade forged in battle. And yet here, in the silence of the Tower, away from the eyes of the world, he could see the woman beneath the crown, a woman whose strength had captivated him from the moment he first set eyes on her, a woman whose effulgent presence took his breath away.

“You know I could force you. I could command you to kneel right here, right now, and take your kingdom from you forever.”

“You could try,” she retorted. “But you’d fail. You may conquer nations, Alexander, but you cannot conquer me.”

He reached out, cupping her cheek. She tensed, awaiting his next move.

“I don’t want to conquer you, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice raw. “I want you to rule by my side. As my equal. As my queen.”

The vulnerability in his words caught her off guard. She had expected arrogance, demands, perhaps even cruelty.

But not this. Not this unexpected plea. His hand, still on her cheek, was gentle, and for a brief moment, she allowed herself to feel it. Allowed herself to imagine a different fate, one where they could stand together, two of the greatest rulers the world had ever seen.

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