My Prince (7 page)

Alex grinned and winked. “Surprise me.”

“I can do that.”

“So?” George asked when Danny went back to the bar.

“Okay. Well, my mother is English. She grew up between London and Bath because my grandfather was a member of the House of Lords. Obviously she moved to the Netherlands when she met and married my father, and then they had me and my brother.”

“You’re older?” George asked, and Alex nodded.

“Yes, by eighteen months. I was brought up bilingual—basically my mother spoke English to me and my brother, and my father and most of the rest of the family spoke Dutch. When I was seven, my mum asked if I wanted to stay in school in the Netherlands, which I wasn’t particularly enjoying, or try a school in London. So I moved to Notting Hill to live with my grandfather and Greta, who was my nanny at the time, and went to Harrow.”

“It’s hard for me to wrap my head around who you actually are. You just seem posh to me, not, you know, royal.”

Alex laughed. “Thanks, I think. It’s weird, but my brother is much more royal than me. Hendrick stayed in the Netherlands with my mum and dad and went to a private school there instead of coming to London. So he was around all of the family shit a lot more than I ever was.”

“Why is it weird if he was there and you weren’t?”

“Because he was never going to be king,” Alex said. “Nor was I, really. My dad is the second brother, so he would have only been king if my uncle died without any kids. Then it would have passed to me.”

“But he does have kids?”

“Now he does,” Alex said with a grin. “I have three cousins. They’re all young, though. Uncle Wil didn’t have kids until he was older, but my parents were both young when they had me and Hendrick.”

“Got it.”

He watched as Danny slid out from behind the bar with two more glasses on a tray, then set each down on the table between them.

“Here you go,” he said cheerfully. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I think we’re good,” George said, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He slipped discreetly away.

“There’s still a possibility, though,” George continued, “that you could be king someday.”

“Well, not really. Only in the same way that there’s a chance Prince Harry could be king. That would only happen if a lot of other people in his family died first.”

George pulled a face.

“Exactly.”

“Are you out to your family?”

“Oh God,” Alex laughed. “Yeah. Since forever.”

“What did they say?”

“Well, I don’t think it exactly came as a shock, I’ll say that much. I was always an ‘unusual child.’”

“I bet you were.”

George picked up his refreshed drink and took a tentative sip. It tasted even better than the last one.

E
ARLIER
IN
the evening—sometime around his third cocktail—Alex had decided it was going pretty well. He didn’t normally date people, not like this, and George was fun. He was smart and interesting and funny and
hot
, and Alex was prepared to break some of his own rules to spend more time with him.

Alex laughed softly as he pulled away from George’s lips. They had found a dark alcove in the already pretty dark club and had been grinding together and snogging for… longer than they probably should have been. George’s hands gently kneaded Alex’s asscheeks, and he smiled, skimming his lips over the corner of Alex’s mouth, then knocking their noses together.

“I am…,” Alex said, then sighed. “Conflicted.”

“Oh?”

George moved one hand and carefully worried Alex’s nipple through his shirt. He pressed a slack kiss to Alex’s throat, and Alex forgot nearly every thought that was in his brain.

“Why are you conflicted?” George growled.

The stone wall at Alex’s back was cold. The chill prickled at his neck, and he reached again for George’s waist.

“Because I wasn’t going to ask you to come back to mine tonight,” Alex said, the words taking longer than they should to come out. His brain was
fried
. “But every second you do that makes me lose control a little bit more.”

George chuckled low in his throat. “What makes you think I want to go back to yours?”

“Um…. Your hard-on pressing into my thigh?”

George laughed then, a different sound, rich and warm and right. “You may have a point.”

“So…. Will you? Come back with me?”

George had the best example of resting bitch face Alex had ever seen. Even when relaxed and calm, his brow was furrowed and his eyes were angry; his bottom lip was full enough that it looked like he was constantly pouting. Up close like this, Alex could see the very fine white scar that tugged the corner of George’s top lip up into a permanent snarl. He’d obviously split it at some point and it had healed crooked. With his buzzed short hair and unshaven jaw, George looked tough, rough, mean.

Then he smiled, and his whole face lit up with sweet softness. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Alex said and bit George’s pouty bottom lip. “Let me go settle the bill and call a cab.”

“Nuh-uh. I’ll split it with you.”

“I asked you out, I’ll cover the bill.” He pressed his hands to George’s chest and thought about the possibility of getting this man naked again. “Can you go and get our coats, though?”

George nodded, then his eyes glazed over. He turned Alex slowly, backing him against the wall and slipping his tongue between Alex’s lips. It took another five minutes before Alex managed to get as far as the bar.

By the time they got outside, it was after midnight and the March air was bitingly cold, enough to sober them both up and calm some of the intense heat that had been building between them. The cab was waiting, thank God, and Alex gave his address and quick directions to the driver as George climbed into the back.

It was a city cab, rather than a car, so there was plenty of space in the back for George to stretch out his legs, and Alex reached for George’s hand experimentally. He still wasn’t sure how out George really was, so he was pleased when their fingers were twined together.

The journey back to his flat didn’t take long. He lived far enough away to justify taking a cab—plus, it was cold—while still living in the middle of Edinburgh. Marchmont was an area of old Victorian tenements: long rows of tall buildings, each containing beautiful flats that could easily house a whole family. His own was just behind the main road, with a small garden in the front and black and white checkered tiles on the porch.

Alex caught George looking.

“Nearly all of the tiles are original or restored,” Alex said.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.”

He let them in, pleased that he’d left the heating on so it was toasty and warm.

“Nice place,” George said as Alex closed the door and locked, then bolted it.

“Thank you. I like it.”

The flat was a split level: a living room and huge kitchen on the ground floor, then two bedrooms and a bathroom below. Like most of the buildings in this area, the flat still boasted most of the original features—high ceilings with intricate coving, wooden floors, huge sash windows that let the light flood in. Alex had found antique chandeliers and furniture that either complimented the old features of the house, or contrasted with them in an interesting way.

George shrugged off his coat and kicked off his shoes, then set the former on a hook near the door and the latter underneath. Alex followed suit, then grabbed his hand.

“Let me get you a drink.”

“Water?” George said, almost apologetically. “I don’t normally drink cocktails, and I think it’s gone to my head.”

“Lightweight,” Alex teased. He tugged gently on George’s hand to lead him through to the kitchen.

Some of the flats in this area had four, maybe five bedrooms, they were that big. Alex’s flat had the same amount of space, he’d just used it differently. Instead of having a dining room, he’d knocked the wall through so his kitchen was huge. It meant he had a big sofa just to the side of the kitchen where most of his friends would hang out while he cooked.

Alex enjoyed that, bringing people together, though his work schedule meant he didn’t get to do it as often as he liked.

George was looking around as they walked quietly through the flat, mindful of something in the darkness Alex couldn’t name. He took two glasses from a cupboard and filled them with water from the jug in the fridge, the one with the filter on it.

When he turned back to George, Alex found himself being backed up against the counter and kissed thoroughly. With a glass of water in each hand, he couldn’t do much about it, and he smiled into the kiss, ducking out of it when his fingers started to itch with the need to touch.

“You’re insanely fucking beautiful,” George murmured against Alex’s neck.

Alex preened, adoring the attention, and tilted his neck to the side to give George better access. He went straight to it, nibbling and licking and sucking, and after putting the glasses back on the counter, Alex wrapped his hands around George’s thick biceps.

Fuck, you’re ripped
, Alex thought, though he somehow managed to keep that to himself.

“Come on,” he said instead. He took George’s hand once more, passed him one of the glasses and picked up the other for himself, then led him out of the kitchen and downstairs.

“You have an upside-down house,” George said.

“Hmm?”

“Bedrooms downstairs, living area upstairs.”

Alex shot a grin over his shoulder. “I suppose. It’s nice down here, though. Much cozier than upstairs. And warmer too, because we’re below street level.”

It was dark in the hallway without the lights on. Alex knew his way around well enough in the dark, and didn’t reach for the switch. His guest bedroom was at the front of the house, his own bedroom and the bathroom on opposite sides of the hallway at the back.

Because of the low ceilings down here, Alex didn’t have an overhead light in the bedroom. Instead he’d picked out lamps: a few for the walls, one standing and one on each bedside table. They cast warm shadows over the room, making it much more intimate, in his opinion.

He looked back to where George was hovering in the doorway.

“Do you want to come in?”

George smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck, then ran his hand over his shaved head. He set his water down on one bedside table, then skimmed his hand over the heavy oak headboard.

“This is nice.”

“Thank you. I’m, uh, just going to use the bathroom quickly. Make yourself at home.”

George nodded again. Alex silently took a deep breath and almost ran across the hall to the bathroom.

T
HE
FLAT
was
gorgeous
, George decided. He didn’t really have many opinions when it came to interior design, but it was clear someone had taken a lot of care with this place. Upstairs was stunning: beautiful ceilings, warm wood floors, classy furniture. Down here too. The bed had four half posts, one in each corner, huge thick stumps of wood that reached up to his waist.

An errant thought about tying Alex spread-eagled to those posts crossed George’s mind, and he pushed it away.

It was warm in this little room, with its pale walls, wooden floors, and sparse furnishings. When George pulled off his socks, he decided there was underfloor heating. He couldn’t figure out how else the floors would be so warm, especially without any radiators on the walls. Alex had set a chair in one corner of the room, under the window and between the small wardrobe and chest of drawers. The chair was upholstered in a warm tartan tweed fabric, cream and green and purple checks, the fabric slightly rough and prickly when he ran his palm over it.

He hesitated for a moment, then decided not to take any more of his clothes off and went to the bed and sprawled over the covers on his back. When Alex reappeared in the doorway, he was disheveled, the button fly of his jeans undone. George felt the smile tug at his mouth, and he licked his bottom lip.

Alex was as gorgeous as he remembered. Pale, freckled skin, a toned, lithe body. He didn’t have defined muscles, except in his arms, but he looked soft and sweet.

George reached down and squeezed his cock through his jeans, making Alex laugh.

“You look comfortable,” he said, shutting the door behind himself and padding over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked down at George.

“I am. Wanna join me?”

Alex’s expression was liquid, warm, and he leaned down and kissed his agreement. George wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s neck and held him close as their mouths moved together, gentle at first, dry lips brushing together, back and forth, then catching and slowly taking it deeper.

Alex shucked off his jeans and swung his legs around so he could stretch out full-length on the bed. His hand stole under the hem of George’s shirt and pressed against his waist, causing a shiver to dance over George’s skin.

Kissing slow and easy like this was hot, George decided, as he caught a few strands of Alex’s silky blond hair between his knuckles and tugged.

“Okay, okay,” Alex said with a laugh, rubbing both palms over George’s chest. “Give me a sec.”

“Sure,” George said. He ran his hand over his face, knowing his cheeks were heated and probably red. That happened.

Alex slid off the bed and went to the dresser, pulling his phone from the pile of jeans on the floor and sticking it in a dock.

“Do you mind if I put some music on?”

“Uh, no. Do you mind if I ask why you want to?”

Alex huffed a laugh but didn’t look over. “Because I like it?”

“You like listening to music while you get fucked?” George teased.

“Seriously? Keep being cocky, because it turns me on.”

George laughed then and slumped onto his back, stretching his arms over his head so his shirt rode up, exposing his belly. He didn’t recognize the music when it started, something vaguely folky that he would never choose to listen to but didn’t have any strong objections to.

Alex smiled, then reached behind himself to pull his T-shirt up and off.