Page 10 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

Ben says nothing, either. He’s perched on an elbow at the foot of the bed, watching Prince Roland as though he’s a grenade that might tear us to pieces at any second.

Prince Roland turns on a smile then, and the change in his expression is so quick, it’s almost eerie. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” he asks me.

Me. The prince of England is asking me for permission.

I don’t know what to do. I just nod.

Prince Roland stands and his eyes fix on Ben. There are daggers in his gaze now. “Ben. I’d like to speak with you. Outside,” he demands. “Now.”

I can’t read Ben’s expression for the life of me. His eyes are cast down, and when they flicker toward my face, I’m totally lost by what I find in them. Is he guilty? Or proud of what he’s done? Perhaps he’s angry with me for ruining it all?

His eyes find the floor again before I can figure it out.

“Yes, sir,” he says.

With that, the two men leave the room. And they leave me.

Bewildered and alone. Wondering—

What the heck just happened?

7

Roland

This is all cocked up.

All I wanted was one night. One night when I didn’t have to pretend. One night where I could put down the heavy weight of the crown and lose myself in her soft moans.

Ben Tolle—love him to pieces—has really buggered this up for me. And I’m furious with him. He’s been my trusted bodyguard—no, my trusted friend—for over six years. He should know better by now.

The second the bedroom door clicks shut behind us, I lay in on him. “Have you lost your damn mind?” I hiss. “How could you not tell her that I would be there?”

A shrug from Ben. “She’s American. They’re usually up for anything.”

His eyes are on the wall. That won’t do. “Look at me, Ben,” I instruct.

He does, those coal-hard eyes meeting mine. I want him to see the fury in my eyes. He needs to know just how badly he’s messed up. I wish he were a dog so I could just rub his nose in it and be done with it. But he’s not. I need to see repentance.

But I don’t. He’s a blank slate, emotionless. This isn’t like him. He’s not normally this bloody stupid.

“This is a betrayal,” I tell him.

Something flickers in his eyes at that. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

“No. You’ll have to earn that,” I tell him plainly. “You’re dismissed.”

Ben sways on his feet, lingering briefly, and I can see that he wants to say something. Instead, he swallows it down, turns, and ducks down the hall in stubborn strides.

Well. That takes care of one of them.

Now I have to clean up the scared little girl in my bed.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and screw my eyes closed. I wanted a shag tonight. My blood is still screaming for her, my cock hard as a sword, aching to sink into her to the hilt. I can taste her skin on my lips, warm as fresh bread and soft as butter. And the way she moaned… well. That sent my good intentions straight to hell.

But now all that’s dashed. Now, I have to do damage control.

I take in a couple deep breaths and take stock of myself. I smooth the creases in my forehead, relax my jaw, and drop my shoulders.

---