Princess, Without Cover (9 page)

“Well, let’s see.” She counted in her head.  “I guess maybe six months or so.  Maybe a little less.”

“Well, see, that’s where we’re confused. Mr. Price stated that you didn’t have an actual relationship, that you both got drunk at a party and had sexual intercourse one time.”

“What? That’s a lie.  Why would he say that?  We dated for months!” Shock was evident on Sydney’s face as she stared in confusion at the detectives.

“He also mentioned his belief that your baby wasn’t his.” Detective Daniels leveled his cool gaze directly at her. The statement pierced her heart and she was suddenly flustered. 

“What?  That’s… that’s impossible.  He knew it was his.  I was a virgin until him. He knew that.” Her voice wavered, no longer coolly detached. “Why would he lie?”

“Were you in the habit of getting drunk at parties, Ms. Ross?” Detective Wills stared at her with flat brown eyes.  They were very unlike Stephen’s warm milk chocolate orbs.

“Of course not.  You know who my parents are.  Having a teenage daughter busted for underage drinking wouldn’t help my father’s re-election.”

“Did getting pregnant?” Detective Daniels’ raised his eyebrow at her again, aggravating her with his aloof judgment.

“Don’t judge me.  You don’t know me at all.  I don’t get drunk. Ever.  The only alcohol I’ve ever had was a glass of champagne or two at my parents’ parties.”

“Your parents supplied their underage daughter with champagne?” He looked at her doubtfully, clearly having swallowed her father’s campaign rhetoric. Wholesome Family Values.  What a joke. 

“You have no idea what goes on at high-class parties of the powerful, Detective. At least I wasn’t in the bathroom doing blow with some of the Congressmen in attendance.”

Her voice was cool and unflustered again, every inch the socialite that she used to be.

“Touché, Ms. Ross.  My apologies.  And I’m not judging you.  I’m just trying to get some answers. Your ex-boyfriend is claiming that he wasn’t your boyfriend at all, simply a one-night stand.  Who am I supposed to believe?” 

“Well, since I was the one who was plowed down in a convenience store parking lot, you should realize that I have more of a vested interest in whether or not you find out who tried to kill me.  Trust me, I will always tell you the truth. I have no reason not to. I have nothing to hide.”

They stared each other down, silently daring the other to blink.  She realized that he wasn’t going to back down so she chose to speak again.

“My question, detective, is why are you spending your time focusing on my pregnancy? Does it really matter if my baby’s father denies that it was his?”

“I believe it does,” he answered, surprising her with his frank tone. “I think it’s tied together.  Would it surprise you if I told you that your parents don’t want this investigation to continue?  That they would be satisfied to just let the guy who hurt you walk? I just spoke with your mother this morning.” 

Again his face was impassive, but she felt sure that the question was orchestrated- he wanted to see her reaction. Again.

She didn’t give him one, but she cringed on the inside.  It was a devastating blow to realize over and over that nothing was more important to her own parents than their public appearance.   She knew the Why without asking.  They didn’t want public opinion of it-of her- to hurt the campaign. She was so tired of the endless freaking Campaign. It had been a part of her life since she was an infant.  In fact, on more than one occasion, she had wondered if that was the reason she had been born at all…as a prop for the picture perfect, All-American family.

“No, it wouldn’t surprise me,” she sighed, trying to close off her expression so that they wouldn’t see that it had upset her. As it was, she had a difficult time keeping her voice steady. “Was there anything else you needed from me?”

 “I think that will be all for today.  We just wanted to confirm the length of your relationship with Mr. Price.  If we think of anything else, we’ll let you know.” 

She followed them to the door, her eyes on the scuffed low pumps of Detective Wills as they walked.  The woman’s fashion sense hadn’t improved.  On their way out, the detectives passed Stephen as he strolled up the walk.  They barely spared him a glance.

“Am I too late for the party?” Stephen asked lightly as he stepped into the house.

Sydney tried to smile, but knew that the floodgates were about to open. She turned quickly, trying to escape to her room before the tears hit.  She didn’t want Stephen to witness it. She’d been so much better lately, much to his obvious relief.  She didn’t want him to start worrying again.

As she fled, Stephen stayed in place, staring after her in confusion.  But it only took a second for the unmistakable sounds of her muffled sobs to reach him through her closed door and he quickly followed her.  

He lingered in her doorway, watching her cry for as long as he could stand it before he strode quickly across the small room to sit on the edge of her bed, scooping her into his arms. With her head on his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her, she cried in wracking heaves until there was nothing left. When she finally raised her tear-streaked face to look at him, there were no more tears to cry. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly. “I actually felt better today, for awhile. But something they said about my parents was upsetting.  I didn’t mean to fall apart on you. I’m better now.  I just needed to get it out.”

“Don’t apologize,” he answered softly.  “I wish I could give you good advice, but your parents are a different species from mine.  My experience doesn’t apply to yours.  But I promise you, everything will be okay.”

“I hope you’re right.  But sometimes, it just doesn’t feel like it.  The detectives told me today that my parents want the investigation to stop because it would hurt the campaign.  They couldn’t care less that someone tried to kill me. Do you know how that feels?”

He sighed heavily and tightened his arms around her. 

“Syd, I don’t know how that feels… I’m sorry.  But if I could, I would take it for you. I don’t want you to hurt.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to hurt, either. I’d gladly give it to you.” She smiled ruefully.

“I can tell you this though, and I mean it.  Whatever your parents feel or don’t feel… it isn’t a reflection on you.  You’re amazing.  And if they honestly don’t see that, then it is their loss.  You’re the best person I’ve ever met and you’re going to have a great life.  You don’t need them to make you happy.”

She knew he was right.  Her parents’ feelings didn’t define her but it was hard to convince her heart of that.  She laid her head back on his hard chest, letting the scent of his masculinity surround her.  The smell of aftershave and shaving cream floated lightly on top of the slightly musky fragrance of his skin.

She also realized that his chest wasn’t the only thing that was hard.  As she remained curled up in his lap, she felt the growing evidence of his desire for her and it set her on fire, regardless of the empty ache she felt inside.

She nudged against him, gently testing.  Rejection was not something she could handle right now.  Not after everything else.

He unconsciously pushed back against her, and she felt his stiff rigidity resting against her.  She wriggled closer, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.  The sound of his need for her fueled her own, scorching through her as though someone had tossed lighter fluid on her and then lit a match.  It came in waves- rippling and building.  The air between them was so heavily charged that it almost sparked. She was suddenly breathlessly eager and flushed.

“Stephen, I want you,” she whispered.  “I can’t help it.  I’ve wanted you for so long. Please.”

Heat flushed her cheeks and her skin practically tingled, as she ran her hands against the solid expanse of his back. He groaned in response and buried his face into her hair. 

“Syd, we can’t.  You’re vulnerable right now and you don’t know what you want-”

She interrupted him firmly.  “I know exactly what I want. I want
you
. Please, Stephen. You’re the best person that I have ever met.  I just want to feel close to you- as close as I can be.”

She ran her hand through his hair and pulled his face down to hers.  She knew the instant that he gave in.   He tilted her back softly cradling her, and lowered his lips to envelope hers. 

She sucked him up hungrily, sliding her tongue softly between his lips as she ran her hands urgently over his body.  She felt as though she couldn’t get close enough of him, couldn’t inhale enough of his scent, couldn’t touch him enough.  He appeared to share those thoughts as he pulled her as close as he could, pushing himself against her through her clothes. 

Their breath was ragged as they experienced each moment, prolonging it and rushing it at the same time.  He slid his hands over her soft body and buried his face into her neck, her soft scent sending him over the edge. He pulled her shirt over her head in one fluid motion. All traces of awkwardness were gone.

She unfastened her bra and he pulled it off for her, his eyes consuming her.  He groaned again, crushing her to his chest.

She ripped his shirt off and savored the feel of their hot skin pressed together.  Nothing on earth could compare to this feeling. The delicious, delicate teetering on the precipice of bliss.  The charged anticipation, the sound of their rasping breath, the silkiness of skin… Sydney thought she would explode. 

Everything swirled together in her chest and she couldn’t separate one emotion from another.  Her desperate longing, the safety that she felt in his arms, the love that she felt in this room.  The one thing that she could pinpoint was need.  She needed him right now. And this was something that he could give to her.

Ten minutes of absolute perfection. 

He arched against her, calling her name and then collapsed onto her, rolling onto his side so that he didn’t hurt her, but taking her with him as though he didn’t want them separated, even a fraction of an inch, a minute.  They lay clutching each other, the experience taking on the feel of something almost spiritual.

He stared into her wet eyes. “I love you, Sydney.”

“Well, now you tell me,” she smiled, tracing circles on the slightly damp skin of his back lightly with her fingers.

“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” he murmured, as he buried his face into the side of her neck. She felt him begin to react to her again and she responded by pressing herself even closer.

She shook her head.  “I’ve been wanting you to see me this way for months.”

“I’ve seen you this way the whole time.” His voice was husky as he pulled her on top of him and began everything again.  

Thirty minutes later, she lay draped across his body, sweaty and spent. She was mulling words over in her head, trying to think of ways to vocalize her feelings about what had just happened, but found herself coming up short. She inhaled the heady scent of sex that lingered in the air like velvet and lightly trailed her fingers up and down his chest. Goosebumps formed where her fingers had been and she lowered her head to kiss them.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, liking the substantial way the words felt in her mouth. Liking the way they felt as she applied them to Stephen.

She meant them this time.  She had only thought she meant them when she had uttered them to Christian in the cramped backseat of his Porsche.  Now she understood why people said to ‘wait until you find someone special.’ This experience had been so much more than she had ever dreamed that it could be. And she understood now why it was called Making Love. That’s exactly what they had done.  There was love here. The room was thick with it.

“I think we’re probably going to hell now,” Stephen murmured, even as he kept her clutched against him. “And it was probably illegal in 36 states,” he added grimly.

“Why?” Her brow was wrinkled as she pondered his statement.  “You mean because we’re
distant
cousins? Or because of my age?” She snuggled closer, apparently unconcerned with either issue.

“Well, you’re 18 now and I’m 24.  That makes me a dirty old man, but it’s not illegal. But the cousin thing…”

“Oh, please!” she rolled her eyes dismissively.  “We’re distant cousins, not first cousins and we didn’t even know each other until last year!  We don’t even know how we’re related so that’s not exactly close familial ties!  Besides…” She paused to kiss the sensitive skin by his nipple, “A lot of famous people have been with cousins- they’ve even married first cousins! We’re not unique.”

“Hmm.  Comparing us to Edgar Allen Poe doesn’t ease my conscience.” He said wryly, but sucked in his breath in spite of himself as she made a circle with her tongue.

“I wasn’t thinking of him, but now that you brought it up, he did marry his 13-year old first cousin.  That’s a lot worse than us!” She smiled in the dying light from the window, her slender body still wrapped around his.  

“I was thinking more along the lines of FDR.  He and Eleanor were cousins of some sort.  Thomas Jefferson, Albert Einstein. They were brilliant people who married cousins.  And those are just the ones that I remember from History class.  There’s probably a ton more.”

“Again, Thomas Jefferson isn’t exactly who I would like to measure myself against.  He might have been brilliant, but he also fathered children with his slave women.  And these guys were geniuses from previous centuries.  How about someone from the current one?” Even as he spoke, he couldn’t help but smile at her efforts.

“Um.” She paused while she thought, hovering above him. “Ha! Rudy Giuliani!  He married his second cousin and he was the mayor of New York!” She smiled triumphantly. 

“Yes, sweetheart.  I know who he is.”

His endearment stopped her moving fingers in their tracks, swelling her heart until it felt twice the size of normal.  Her parents were not big on endearments.  Her dad used to call her Princess, but she wouldn’t exactly call it an endearment.  She always felt that it was a reminder to himself that he was able to treat his daughter like a princess.  It made him feel good. No one in her entire life had called her Sweetheart. It felt nice. Normal.