Page 103 of Scarred Crown

“How do you want it?” I rasp, and my lips are inches from her clit.

“Make me beg for it.”

I grin just before I cover her with my mouth. My favorite.

Julia

Nick is my drug, and I am an addict. There’s no other explanation for the sex haze I’ve been walking around in for the last two weeks. Fourteen years of pent-up sexual frustration have been released on the world. Or at least all over Nick’s wing of the palace.

I can’t even remember the last relationship I was in where we had this much sex.

Never.

I think never is the answer.

Which is great, right? We’re sexually compatible. From our first kiss, there wasn’t much of a doubt in my mind, but it’s good to have it confirmed—over and over and over again.

Except, we’ve been so busy mapping each other’s bodies that we haven’t set a wedding date, haven’t talked about Alex in any more depth, haven’t delved into jobs or kids or any of the practical things most married couples should discuss before the wedding. We’re married, but I’m not sure we’re ready to be married. We’re in the honeymoon stage of the honeymoon stage.

The minute Nick steps into a room, my brain short circuits, and all I can think about is him. Actually, my brain might be losing the plot in general. He takes up at least 85% of my mental capacity on any given day whether or not he’s within my line of sight.

But when we’re not together, I remember all the things we haven’t decided, and anxiety creeps in. Then there’s his father’s illness. Initially, I didn’t loathe keeping King George’s secret because Nick and I weren’t close. My allegiance, my loyalty, lay with the king. But now? I have no idea what the right path is. Keeping the secret from Nick is wrong, but I don’t know why the king hasn’t told his children. Multiple times in the last few weeks I’ve anticipated a family meeting and a reveal, and each time he’s given us something trivial or obvious instead of addressing the elephant in the room.

The press caught wind of the coronation itself but the reason, the real reason, is still buried. For how long? Since he consulted multiple doctors, it seems impossible that one nosey, driven reporter won’t root out the truth.

I haven’t had a chance to speak to the king alone either. There’s always someone else in the room, and I’m never sure how much other people know. If I haven’t blurted the truth out to Nick, I can’t be careless with other family and staff.

To keep my mind off everything else, I’ve been going through the coronation to-do list to set things in motion, but I definitely haven’t been at the top of my game. So many things are distracting me from my job, which never used to happen.

Also, I’ve been avoiding Alex.

Every time he appears in a corridor or a room I’m in, I duck in somewhere else or claim a commitment elsewhere. It’s not just that Nick wouldn’t like me confiding or confessing to Alex, it’s also that Alex is likely to be upset with me. Whether he’s hurt or furious, I don’t want to face it.

I’m hustling past the door to his office on the way to a meeting when his door pops open. He stands in the entrance for a second, staring at me. While I’m tempted to hide my face and keep walking, that’s not exactly the most mature response.

“Are you going to talk to me now?” He scowls.

“I have a meeting.”

“It’s not for an hour.” He opens the door to his office wider. “I’m going to the same meeting.”

Of course he is since it’s about royal protocol leading up to the coronation. We’re supposed to be figuring out an appropriate time to slide in a royal wedding ahead of the coronation. King George thinks the optics look better if we marry before Alex takes over as king.

But that’s not the meeting I was rushing to. I booked myself in for a private conversation with the king. Telling Alex that will open a whole other line of questioning I’m not prepared to answer. A quick meeting with Alex, and I won’t be too late to meet with King George. He’s often running behind anyway.

With a sigh, I step into Alex’s office, but I don’t take a seat. This conversation could go about a million ways, but every single one of them will probably feel like being put through a meatgrinder.

He slides behind his desk into his leather chair and eyes me for a minute.

He’s making me feel like I’m in the principal’s office.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Alex drawls.

“I’ve been busy. Being gone for a few weeks left a lot on my plate.”

“Seems like you’re calling your mother incompetent. Wasn’t she looking after all your duties while you were off playing the tourist with my brother?”

I purse my lips.