Prince With Benefits: A Billionaire Royal Romance (29 page)

I raise an eyebrow, breathing an inward sigh of relief as more water shows up. I pour it and start sucking it down. My body needs it, plus it might just keep the nuclear reactions inside me from going off.

“What happened to number one?” I ask in between sips.

“Skiing accident. It was terrible. I still think about those times – where does it all go?” Gary shakes his head. Finally, someone else's turn to do it. “I was a young man with a startup and a five year old son in those days. There wasn't time to mourn. The only saving grace is I wasn't such a popular guy then – the media left my family alone. I wasn't on their radar yet. It was up to me to raise my son alone while I built my company. I'm pleased to say it all worked out. Mostly, anyway.”

I nod. Okay, maybe Gary's not such a weirdo with a silver spoon hanging out of his mouth after all. I gnaw on some bread while they make goo-goo eyes at each other again.

Shit. I hope the spark wears off at some point like all relationships. It's going to be a
long
fucking summer if I have to see this all the time.

Munching isn't helping my stomach much. I have to really focus on drinking my water and trying to remember what Dana taught me about meditation from her yoga classes to keep from spitting wine up all over the table.

“Honey, you're
sure
you're okay?” Mom gives me the look of death, demanding I tell her the truth.

“I think I need to rest. Let my brain recuperate after it's been blown right out my ears. I hope you don't mind if I cut this a little short. I just want to go home.”

Gary laughs and looks at me. “You're perfectly welcome to join us at our new home, Claire.”

New home?
Oh, shit. I hadn't even considered that, but it does make a scary kinda sense.

Mom nods. “It's way better than our old condo. I think you'll like the house – Gary had his maid set up a room for you, Claire. You'll find everything you need there, and if anything's missing, just shout. I'll be putting the old place in Tacoma on the market soon too – it's peak buying season, after all.”

I throw down my napkin and stand up. I really want to whip it right at them and scream until every wine glass in this fucking restaurant breaks.

It's one thing to have my whole world turned upside down, but now they're telling me the only thing I can really count on –
home
– is somewhere else?

“Don't worry about driving. We'll take care of your car,” Gary says. “I already told my driver to wait for you out front. I figured you'd need a little time to be alone and get settled in. You'll find my place in Bellingham very comfortable, Claire. My chauffeur will have you home and be back here to pick us up in no time.”

Jesus. Bellingham's like an hour north on a good day. They must be planning to sit here for a good long while and drink, maybe make out or something nasty I definitely don't want to see

I do the only thing I can in this situation. I plaster on my biggest, fakest grin and shake Gary's hand.

“That actually sounds good right now. Are you sure you'll be okay getting my stuff home? Everything I brought off campus is in the trunk.”

Mom beams – probably relieved I'm making a graceful exit instead of an explosive one. “Of course! We'll take care of everything, baby. Gary's a good man. When he proposed, I told him you're my number one. Our marriage doesn't change that.”

“And I told her I want the whole enchilada,” Gary says, reaching for my hand. “Mandy's family is mine now, Claire. I know it's going to take some time, but give me a few months, and you'll see I'm right. I always am.”

I give him one more weak smile and get the hell away before I'm drowned in their affection or the billionaire’s arrogance. True to his word, there's a sleek black sedan waiting out front with a neat looking driver, who gets out and opens the door for me as soon as he sees me coming.

My only regret as I slip into the car is that I didn't have more water, and more wine.

* * *

O
ne thing's
for sure – Mom and new Step-dad aren't bullshitting about the size of the house. When the car rolls through a gate that's like twice as tall as I am, I know I'm in trouble.

There's a guard shack. An honest-to-God security checkpoint just for billionaire Gary, and I guess that includes Mom and me too.

The man in the guard shack smiles and waves us through, just as friendly and perfectly behaved as the driver. The place looks like a modern castle sitting on the coast. Powerful waves churn just over the hills, and I see one of the cleanest Washington beaches ever below.

On the other side, it's flanked by the most blinding, beautiful green the Pacific Northwest has to offer. The incredible foliage hanging around the house reminds me all our rain has its advantages.

“Miss Frost,” the driver says, almost like he's about to salute me when we pull up. I step out through the door he's holding, gawking at the monstrous palace for a good thirty seconds.

Then my stomach twists again, and I'm forced to move, if only to get inside and use the bathroom.

The key Gary gave me works. It's a card, just like at a hotel, and apparently there's an app to let your phone unlock the door too. I wouldn't expect anything less from a tech mogul.

Luckily, there's a bathroom nearby. It has about all the fine finishes I expect. I do my business, wash up, and run cold water over my face. What little I've seen of the house so far makes me feel like I need to purify myself just to be here.

When I step out in the hall, the first thing I hear are footsteps. Thinking I'm alone, I jump. But that's stupid, I tell myself. I already know Gary has a housekeeper and who the hell knows what else – and I'd better get used to it awfully fast since this is my new home now.

He also mentioned a son...and didn't really say much else about him. Is he living here too?

I head down a long hall with these awesome murals, hoping it brings me to the kitchen. It does. The massive refrigerator has a whole shelf filled with drinks – mineral water, fancy juices, kombucha, and some other tasty looking imports I've never seen before. It all looks good, but I know I need more water.

Always more. My stomach won't forgive me until I've replenished everything the last two days have drained from my system.

I head through the other opening in the kitchen, ready to explore at least this little part of the mansion. There's a dining room, and then a hallway leading to what looks like an awesome living room. There's leather furniture, the biggest glass windows with a perfect view of the ocean, and –

Oh, hell. There's a young man standing right in the middle of the room, dripping wet from a workout, shirtless. He's ripped and tattooed as all hell. It looks like he's just come in from a run, or maybe using the gym – wherever that is.

I set my drink down on the nearby counter nervously and hold my hand up to wave. If he's Gary's son, I never thought I'd be meeting him like this. I hope it's not too awkward.

Only one way to find out.

“Hi, there. I'm Claire.”

The boy turns around. His piercing blue eyes dart right through me like a bullet to the head.

“Fucking shit,” Ty says, breaking into a princely smile.

Fucking shit
is right. I barely have time to reach out and catch myself next to my drink before I go crashing to the floor.

I
can't believe
this chick's standing in my living room. It's living proof that there's a god in heaven, and apparently he wants me to fuck this girl right through the floor. Nothing else explains why the only woman who ever said no to me in my own club is here, looking at me like I just stepped off a UFO.

I'm about to give her some serious shit for walking in on me like this, but her knees are shaking. I know a woman who's fainting when I see her. Our poor housekeeper, Joan, used to have the same damned problem before she got her insulin under control.

I rush over just in time before she crashes on Dad's Turkish rug. I gotta suppress a smile as I catch her. She feels too fucking good against my almost naked body. Obviously, I don't wanna upset Little Miss Perfect anymore while she's reeling, but fuck, I've already done that just by standing here.

She's comatose in my arms. Not exactly how I wanted to feel those sweet curves against me again, but what-the-hell-ever. I reach for the mineral water next to her, unscrew the cap, and splash it right in her face.

That wakes her up.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” She screams, batting me away.

When I'm sure she's able to stand on her own two feet again, I let go, and give her the space she's flipping her shit over. “Making sure you don't bruise your pretty face on the damned floor. It's harder than it looks, even with the rugs. Trust me, I've slipped on my ass here before.”

Watching her face, it's like a fuse in slow burn. When it hits the charge, I see the explosion in her eyes, the horrible realization about who I am and why I'm standing in front of her.

Believe me, it's a disaster for my sorry ass too. I knew dad remarried some former Congress queen, and I'm supposed to meet the new family soon. I knew the woman had a daughter.

But I didn't expect it to be this delectable piece of ass that got away from me last night. Having a step-sister this hot introduces me to some sick torture I'm just starting to comprehend.

Fuck me.
Maybe it's not a miracle she's in my house after all. Maybe it's a devil's curse – Old Scratch come to collect my karmic debt for all the girls I've fucked and walked away from.

“Sterner.
Sterner.
” She repeats my last name over and over, stretching a hand across her face like her skin's boiling. “Jesus Christ. How could I be so stupid? Why didn't I put it together until now?”

I smile, shrug, and mimic her gesture. There's still a lotta sweat dripping all over me after my workout downstairs. Training always leaves me beat and damp when I do it right, and this chick's the reason I hit it extra fucking hard this evening.

“Why the fuck didn't you tell me your name last night? I was trying to help, you know. We could've avoided this embarrassment.”

“You were trying to fuck me!” she screams, getting up in my face.

Those sweet tits beneath her shirt plump up and bounce real nice. She looks good enough to slam against the wall and devour with my hands, my mouth, my dick, no matter what she's wearing. And that's rare, especially when I've been on a strict diet of club girls who just wanna suck me off because I'm hung and rich.

And in the cold light of day, some of those chicks are a lot less fuckable.

Not the one in front of me, cursing my name, though. It's not even possible. She's hot twenty-four-seven, morning or night, rain or shine. My dick twitches, thinking about all the shit it wants to do to her in all those conditions.

Claire
. I burn her name into my memory, wondering why the hell it's landed in my lap when I tried so hard to squeeze it outta her at the club.

She's shaking her chestnut hair, blinking those big brown eyes to match, the same way I've seen her do like ten times by now. “I can't believe this.”

I step up and extend a hand, trying to give her a proper handshake. She slowly takes it and looks sick, but of course I'm not gonna let her off that easy.

“I know, babe. I can't believe we're never gonna fuck. Somebody's got a sick sense of humor to bring our parents together. That's for damned sure. Can you believe your new step-brother's a badass motherfucker,
Sis
?” I flex my muscles and rub myself against her.

She jumps back like I'm on fire. I can't help but laugh. Humor's all I've got to take the crazy fucking edge off – not that it helps much when I feel how hard her nipples are.

“Don't you dare call me that!” Claire purses her lips and wags a finger. “Jesus. Are you always so crude?”

I turn around and shrug, crossing the room for the Gatorade I left sitting by the window. “Maybe, if you're a fucking prude all the time. Shit, I was hoping you'd lighten up and come alive outside the club. Guess you carry that stick up your ass wherever you go, huh?”

Her eyeball twitches. The girl looks like she's gonna explode.

“You're...you're...” It's cute. She's really at a loss for words.

Go ahead and say it. Yeah, I'm a rat bastard, and I'm easily entertained too. I'm pushing her to her fucking limits and loving every second.

I stand behind the sofa, hiding the savage wood I've got popping in my shorts. It wants inside her like a battering ram. My dick's dumb – it can't comprehend there's a major taboo blocking us from getting down and dirty. Or maybe I'm the idiot for just now seeing a few more fireworks when I think about holding her down and slamming my cock as deep as it'll go.

Step-sis or not, there's no damned way I'm letting her see how much she turns me on. This attraction's just a game as long as she's in this house, and I'm the one in control.

“Well, spit it out. I'm what, babe? The biggest swinging dick who ever crashed into your life?”

Fuck it. I wanna set her off. I step past the couch sporting my massive boner, but she's too pissed to look below the waist.

“I was going to say the biggest piece of shit I've ever met.” The words come out like she's foaming at the mouth.

“Well, we're in the cesspool together now. Better get used to it,” I tell her. I've had my fun, and now it's time to diffuse the situation before she bolts the fuck outta here and never comes back. “Tell you what, Claire, you forget about the last two brushes we've had and I'll do the same overnight. I'll give Dad the cozy little family breakfast he wants tomorrow morning. You'll settle in and do the same.”

“I'm not listening to
your
suggestions,” she snaps. “I'll do whatever I want.”

I shrug long and hard. Not just to brush her the fuck off, but because it feels damned good after a heavy workout.

“Your funeral. I'm just trying to make the most of a shitty situation, and I'm not hearing any good ideas from you.”

“Shitty situation!?” She screams, balling her little fists at her sides, shaking them like rattlers. “Stay the hell away from me. I don't care what's going on between our parents, Ty. Let me make this loud and clear, right now – I'll
never
be family to you. I don't even want to your friend. We've spent all of half an hour together, and you're the last guy I ever want to deal with.”

“Cool.” She blinks in surprise as I take a long pull from the blue juice in my bottle. “No, really. You're bitchy. Direct. Honest. I like that. I'm not much for bullshit. I threw my cards on the table, and so did you. Now that we've got that shit outta the way, we can figure out how we're gonna live under the same roof without driving each other absolutely fucking loco.”

“Argh!” She punches the air one time with both her hands and turns.

She's had it with my shit, and I'm not real inclined to deal with her either. Seeing her flip her back and give me a nice view of that hot little ass as she stomps away feels a helluva lot better than more talk anyway.

I follow her, keeping my distance, watching as she stops by the main entrance and freezes. I wanna bust another gut, laugh in her perfect face, but I don't. I stand there and wait, feeling the sweat drying on my body.

With a heavy sigh, she spins, knowing I'm there. “Are you going to point the way to my room, or do I have to figure it out myself?”

I stick my thumb out. “Down one floor. You'll see a big door for the laundry room. That's where you wanna turn, and then go all the way around the corner to the next hall. You've got the one with the purple walls and the beach view, right next to mine.”

“Huh? We're neighbors? In this huge of a house?” She croaks, and I half expect to see her wither right in front of me. “Jesus Christ.”

Surprisingly, she takes it in stride, and I watch her sashay angrily down the steps. She pulls open the door to the lower floor and her footsteps are softer, fading 'til it's hard to believe she was really right in front of me at all.

I don't follow her down there to my room because I've got to shower and wrap up some other shit.

It's a little too warm in the house. I need to find Joan to make sure the temperature controls are set just right. This place is so fucking big it always takes an adjustment or two when the seasons are shifting.

For the first time this year, I'm actually looking forward to summer. Having Claire behind my wall's gonna make it a lot more interesting.

* * *

T
he next day
, I'm the first one in the dining room. Don't have a damned clue what time our parents got home.

Shit,
parents
. Plural.

It's been so fucking long since I've thought about that word. It's alien to everything I know. And whatever the hell happens, the prissy Congresswoman Dad married for reasons I'll never understand will never be my ma.

She died skiing on the slopes outside Olympia before I barely knew her. There's never been anybody but Dad, busy CEO and father-of-the-year. Or at least that's the way he presents himself to the smiling reporters.

The real Gary Sterner raised me. I respect him the way a peasant pays respect to a hard ass tyrant.

Whatever. It's his right, I guess, and it's not his new lady's fault that she saw something in my old man. I swear I'm not gonna give her too much shit as I wash up and head down to the dining room.

I've got Claire for taking the brunt, after all. And you'd better believe I want to give her a whole lot more than total crap. I want to give her everything I got, hard and deep and raw. I want to fuck her breathless, fuck her 'til she's biting my shoulder, slam into her tight wet cunt 'til my dick's so numb I can't even feel it.

I stop and lean on the staircase's banister for a moment. Gotta collect myself. This thinking's dangerous, and I know it.

Wish I could figure out what the hell it is about this chick that keeps lighting me on fire. Every time we're in the same room, it's like there's a storm building underneath my skin, thunderheads so fierce and primal I'd be scared if it didn't make me tingle so damned good.

Love at first sight? Fuck no.

I don't believe in that shit. Lust at first sight, on the other hand, just might have some serious truth behind it.

My lungs pulse relief when I get downstairs and see she's not there yet. It's just Dad, sitting on his throne at the head of the table like he always does, and a dark haired lady at his side I can only assume is Amanda Frost.

No, Amanda Sterner. My new step-mom. Shit.

“Tyler!” She stands up when I come in like I'm the damned President or something. I wonder if it's the same way she bolted up at the State of the Union speeches back in DC. “We've been waiting for you kids. It's so good to finally meet you!”

She puts her hand out. Dad's watching me like an eagle about to swoop in on its kill.

I skip the handshake and give her a hug. She clings to me tight, pleasantly surprised by the gesture. I hope like hell my father's just as pleased – maybe he'll lay the fuck off and cut me some slack. It's gonna be hard as hell behaving myself with Little Miss Perfect due any time.

“Pleasure,” I say. “How was Denali?”

“Ty, why don't you sit down and grab a plate?” Dad cuts in, before she can answer my question. “We don't need to stand around gabbing like rednecks when we've got this wonderful spread. Have you seen Claire?”

“I met her yesterday,” I tell him, dropping into my seat. “She was tired. Seems like meeting you was a lot for her to take in.”

His lips twitch. I smile, wondering who the fuck's really bottling shit up the most and practicing their best behavior. Not just me, apparently.

“Oh, I should've gone down myself to check on her,” Amanda says. “Maybe I should anyway, just to make sure...”

She starts to get up, but Dad lays a protective hand over hers. “Nonsense, Mandy. I'll send Joan to give her a wakeup call. I don't blame the poor girl for sleeping in. She's been under a lot of pressure.”

Dad's about to tap the button for the intercom on the wall behind him to call our housekeeper, when Claire comes trotting in. She looks neater today. She's wearing some fresh shit her mom must've picked out and stashed in her room.

It's a nice white summer dress. I'll be fucked if it doesn't make her tits look like heaping scoops of vanilla ice cream. My dick's been reasonably well behaved this morning 'til now.

I'm fucked the minute I take a good long look. It instantly pops up and starts straining in my pants, giving me the mad desire to carry her outta the dining room, find a quiet spot to throw her on the floor, and bury my face between those perfect fucking globes while I piston between her legs.