Claim Me Page 3

  Alexander

  I was waiting for Clara when she came home. It took every ounce of self-control I had—and I didn’t have much—to keep calm. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a doctor’s appointment?”

  “You have more important things to do.” She kicked off her heels and headed toward the closet, her eyes studiously avoiding me.

  “Nothing is more important to me than you.” I followed her inside, hovering by the door. She glanced at me warily, her gaze darting around me as she realized I’d trapped her inside. “I want to be there. I want to know about these things.”

  My words landed like a bomb complete with a warning siren blaring in my head. That had been a mistake—a big one.

  “I guess I’m keeping secrets. You must be rubbing off on me.” Clara kept her back toward me as she searched through a number of hanging garments.

  Bringing up the doctor’s appointment had been stupid. If there was anything I needed to know about the pregnancy, she would tell me. I didn’t like that she’d left me out, because I wanted her to know it was important to me, too. But I knew she was making a point: she could give as good as she got.

  I decided to change tactics. “There's going to be a press conference. I'd like you to be there with me."

  She snorted, but she still didn't look at me. "Why? It's a bit late to include me."

  "I don't want people to think…” I trailed away, instantly realizing my blunder. It was like I was planting land mines and then jumping on them. My self-preservation was clearly off. Of course, everything was off when she was shutting me out.

  Clara abandoned her search of the closet and whirled around, planting her hands on her hips. "Don't want them to think what? That you kept secrets from your wife? Do you want them to think I knew about—”

  "I want to be a united front." I was still in dangerous territory, but I meant what I said.

  “You have a funny way of showing it." She returned to her search.

  “Are you ever planning to speak to me again?”

  “We’re talking now.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” All of our conversations had been short these last two weeks. She shut me out almost as soon as I started speaking.

  She shrugged as she reached for a silk robe. "Are you going to tell me the truth?"

  "I don't have any more secrets from you." Even saying it, I knew it was too little, too late. Still, I was growing tired of this song and dance. We needed to talk. I needed to explain. Since the moment she’d walked out of that room in Windsor, she’d had no interest in my explanations. I couldn't blame her. But I wasn't going to let my past and the mistakes my father had made take my wife from me now.

  Clara attempted to move past me to the bathroom, but I stretched an arm out to stop her.

  “Really, X?” She pushed at my arm and tried to squeeze past me. Considering she was eight months pregnant, she wasn't going anywhere if I didn't want her to.

  And I wanted her to listen.

  "We need to talk," I repeated more forcefully.

  "No, you need to listen." She glared at me with such intensity that I dropped my arm.

  I didn't care how I got her speaking to me. She could yell at me, rant at me, berate me—I would take it all. I deserved it. "Fine. I’m listening.”

  This stopped her, but only for a moment. It didn't take her long to recover before she launched into everything she had been holding back. "Things are going to change around here. If I find out that you so much as went out to lunch without telling me, I'm gone. Also, Georgia is my new head of security. No arguments. I am not dragging another man to the obstetrician.”

  I clenched my jaw shut, forcing myself to listen rather than argue with her. I wanted her to talk. If she thought I'd let her walk out on me, she was very much mistaken. Now wasn’t the time to tell her that, however.

  “Anything else?” I was in no position to question her, but I couldn't be sure if she was thinking clearly. Not since she’d stopped sharing what she was thinking with me entirely. No matter how much she might push back, I couldn't allow her to place herself or our child in danger just to prove a point.

  "I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to take a bath."

  I grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, moving her backwards against the wall before she could dodge me. "I do want to talk about it. What changes?"

  My arms bracketed her in place as my body began to calculate how long it would take to get her dress off. Maybe I didn’t want to talk at all. We had more effective ways of ending an argument—ones we both enjoyed. If I could touch her, she’d remember why she loved me. Then she’d be able to forgive me.

  "It's not going to work this time," she murmured, her lashes fluttering.

  “What isn’t it going to work?" I asked absently as I lowered my face closer to hers.

  “Fucking this out," she said harshly. But even as her eyes blazed, her body began to respond to mine. Her belly was an unfortunate barrier between us but not insurmountable. She breathed in soft, shallow pants, a flush creeping across her fair cheeks. The hand planted on my chest was soft, not firm. She wasn't resisting me exactly, but my Clara was far too stubborn to admit she missed me, too.

  “Poppet,” I whispered as I angled my lips to her ear. Catching its soft shell between my teeth, I sucked it gently before lowering my lips to the curve of her neck. “Don't you miss this? I'm sorry. I want to talk. I do. But maybe this is what we need.”

  “Alexander." There was a warning on her tongue and I stepped back, heeding it. She pushed past me into the bathroom without so much as a glance back at me. I watched as she started the shower.

  "I thought you were going to take a bath."

  "I changed my mind. A bath doesn’t sound relaxing anymore.” She still wouldn't look at me. “I’m tired. I’m going to shower."

  She was driving me crazy. She dropped the robe and when she reached for her zipper, I couldn't stop myself. Moving behind her, I took over. "Here. Let me."

  Clara froze as I drew the zipper slowly down, revealing inch after inch of porcelain skin. I wanted to slip the dress off her shoulders and wrap my arms around her. I could almost imagine her full breasts in my hands. I could almost taste the sweet, wet heat between her thighs. My cock hardened painfully, reminding me of exactly how long it had been since I’d buried myself in her. She shifted slightly, pressing her ass against me as though she was thinking the same.

  "Do you miss me?" she whispered, wriggling slightly against my erection.

  “Fuck yes, I do, poppet." My hands went to her hips and gripped them, yanking her back against me so she could feel how much. "Do you miss my cock? Do you miss it when I fuck you? Tell me how much you need to feel me inside you.”

  “Yes, please."

  I barely caught her whimpered reply, but it was enough. I released her hips and shucked her dress from her shoulders, helping its progress to the floor with impatient hands. I needed to taste her. I needed to be inside her. I needed to fuck her.

  The scrap of lace she called underwear snapped easily with one tug. Clara’s answering moan was like a lightning rod to my crotch. I left her garter belt, fastened low on her hips below the swell of her belly, on, enjoying how the garters crossed over her skin to hold her silk stockings. She was a masterpiece, sinfully beautiful. I drank in the sight of her full, round ass and long legs. I would never have enough of her. But as I began to unfasten my belt buckle, she pulled away.

  "Clara," I said in a strangled voice.

  "What?" She reached around and unfastened her bra. "I want to, but that doesn't mean I will."

  "How long are you going to punish me?” I exploded.

  "I haven't decided yet." She didn't seem the least bit moved by my outburst. Instead, she unpinned her hair and it tumbled to her shoulders. I forced myself to stay put as she undid her garter belt and rolled her stockings off one by one. When she was naked, she looked me in the eye, her gaze full of challenge.

  She knew how hard it was for me to be near her after going so long without fucking her. It was a test, but I didn’t know the right answer. She was trying to make a point, but Clara also craved domination. She had since the moment I met her. Taking her might be the proof she needed, proof that I would always choose her. Choose us. But answering incorrectly was a big gamble when I was playing with my heart.

  "Clara, I need you. You need me. Let me love you.” I took a step toward her.

  "You seem to be confusing sex with love." She opened the shower door.

  "Don't do this." I was begging now, but she stepped under the water and closed the door between us.

  I wasn’t the one who was confused. I knew exactly what she needed and I would show her. Whipping my belt off, I unfastened my pants and freed my cock. Fisting it, I began to stroke my shaft, my eyes on my wife. She was watching me. The glass between us began to fog and she hadn’t so much as touched the soap.

  “You do this to me,” I said. I had no idea if she could hear me over the running water, but she could see my lips moving. Let her hear what she wanted to hear—what she needed to hear. “You drive me fucking insane.”

  Clara was finally moving, her own hand snaking down between her legs. I pumped my cock harder as she began to knead her cunt. I knew the sounds she must be making—the sharp intakes of breath, the needy little moans.

  “You’re mine. You belong to me.” I moved closer until we were face-to-face with the glass between us. “Play your game. Pretend you have the power. Nothing will change that. You are mine.”

  She could hear me now. I could tell by the way she swallowed back her pleasure and grimaced as if pained by it. I couldn’t hear what she said, but I saw the words on her perfect lips. “Fuck you.”

  “You will, Poppet.” I groaned as I felt my balls tighten. My hand sped up, urging me toward release. “Soon. You’ll fuck me soon. You gave yourself to me, and I’m running out of patience. I will take what’s mine.”

  Her eyes shuttered on this final warning, her body trembling slightly as her orgasm rolled through her. I came, watching her unravel, my release spraying the glass as my knees buckled from the force of my climax. When I looked up, she turned away and shut off the water.

  But when she stepped out, she grabbed her robe and drew it on quickly.

  “Clara, it’s inevitable. Stop fighting it. Nothing will change what’s between us.”

  And then in a low voice, she found the three words that did. She found the three words that ripped my heart out and changed everything. Three little words that carried the weight of everything—our future, our family, our marriage—and made me realize I was wrong.

  “I hate you.”

  Chapter 5

  Clara

  “Where are you?” Edward asked as soon as I answered my mobile, jamming it between my ear and shoulder as I narrowly avoided dropping my teacup. Across from me, Elizabeth frowned at the interruption, her tiny legs splayed in front of her and a teapot wobbling in her hands.

  “Home,” I said as I held my cup out and she pretended to fill it.

  This earned me a laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, your home is rather large. Palatial, some would say. Where are you in it?”

  “Are you here?” I struggled to stand up, getting off the floor was proving trickier these days. Nodding to Penny to take over my spot at Elizabeth’s tea party, I mouthed to her that I would be right back.

  “I’ve been summoned for an official meeting, which is never a good thing. I figured you would be there.”

  Heading into the hall, I started toward the offices. “Not today. When is the meeting?”

  “A few minutes. Although I’m told he’s with the Prime Minister, so who knows? You should come.”

  “Shit, I just left the nursery. I might not make it before…” It occurred to me that I might not want to make it. Alexander had slept in his office again. If he’d returned to our bedroom, I hadn’t seen him.

  “Language,” Edward said in mock horror. I could almost imagine the goofy grin on his handsome face. “It’s just downstairs.”

  “The lift is acting up, and it takes me twice as long to get anywhere at the moment,” I grumbled. “I want to see you before your meeting.”

  “David is here with me. Why don’t you just come?”

  He suspected something was up. I couldn’t blame him. Things were usually up between me and Alexander. Still, life was about to get messy for my family. I knew why Alexander had summoned him here. With the press conference looming, he had to come clean to his brother. A strange mixture of annoyance and relief churned inside me as I realized that Alexander had left me out of this meeting. After last night we had been avoiding each other. I had no idea if my husband was hurt, but I was. He’d been smart to avoid me, given the number of violent fantasies I’d entertained in the intervening hours.

  “I’m on my way.” I needed my best friend right now, even if it was just to see him for a few minutes.

  “Well, waddle a little faster,” he said.

  “Did you just accuse me of waddling?” Did all the men in my life have a death wish?

  “If the crown fits.”

  “Tell me. Why are Cambridge men such assholes?” I asked.

  “Good genetics,” he said without missing a beat.

  I was almost there, so I hung up on him as punishment. The difference between Edward’s behavior and Alexander’s was that my husband’s younger brother always had good intentions. How he had managed to maintain a sense of humor growing up in this twisted Royal cage, I would never know. But now he was about to face another secret his family had kept from him, and I wondered if this time his good nature would be irreparably damaged. He might hate Alexander. I wouldn’t blame him for that. But what if he hated me, too?

  Edward and David were laughing as I rounded the corner. Edward’s hand brushed his husband’s shoulder and I felt a twinge in my chest. They were newlyweds and it showed in how they looked at each other—like the whole world had been laid before them. I missed that. Not that I’d ever really had it. There had been no honeymoon phase for us. My marriage had been born in violence and danger. It was really no wonder that things were so messed up now.

  We would never have this. Our lives would never be simple. I had to remind myself that they had their own troubles to deal with, especially when it came to battling public opinion. But as far as I knew, they didn’t keep secrets from each other.

  Edward turned and spotted me. “Happy anniversary!”

  My heart plummeted at the reminder. I’d done my best to forget today was my wedding anniversary. Alexander obviously had.

  His welcoming smile reminded me that being jealous of my best friend was ludicrous. The important thing was his presence in my life. My pace sped up and I threw myself into his arms. They folded around me, holding me closely.

  “How are things, Your Majesty?” His tone was light, but I heard the edge to it.

  “We’ll talk later,” I promised. I didn’t trust myself not to spill too much now. It wasn’t my place to tell him the truth. Alexander could take responsibility for his choices. He could face his brother. I chose to ignore what was coming and the implications of it. I had shut Alexander out, but he hadn’t volunteered much information. I didn’t know if he would talk about it. I’d made it clear I wasn’t interested in his explanations, not while I was preparing to deal with the fall-out.

  If he wanted to be a united front, he shouldn’t have divided us.

  Edward’s voice dropped lower so that only we could hear. No one appeared to be around, but with over a thousand people working here, prying eyes were never far. “How’s the baby?”

  “Fine,” I said, clinging to him. It felt good to be held. It wasn’t the same as being with Alexander, but it was a far healthier substitute.

  “You’re taking it easy?” he pressed.

  I pulled away slightly and studied him. Guilt was written across his face. A slight sheen of sweat had broken over his forehead. He knew.

  Closing my eyes, I searched for some inner peace and came up empty-handed. The only person in my life capable of keeping a secret was my husband, it seemed. “Belle tattled.”

  “Belle is losing it. She’s really concerned,” he said softly.

  “Look,” I began to explain, but the door to Alexander’s office opened before I could. “We’ll talk later. Don’t say anything.”

  Edward’s gaze flickered to the ground but then he inclined his head in agreement. He might be Alexander’s brother, but his loyalty was to me. I didn’t like putting him in this position, but technically, I hadn’t been the one to do it.

  Alexander stepped into view, stealing any further warning from my lips. A knot tightened in my stomach at the sight of him. Usually he wore blue or gray, but today he’d opted for a black three-piece suit. His tie was knotted at his throat and the lightest stubble dusted his jawline. I hadn’t seen him this morning. He must have had his clothes delivered to him. Power radiated off him and I fought my body’s response to it. Pressure ached in my chest until I was certain I might crack open and spill my heart at his feet. I belonged to him. I couldn’t deny it. I knew it all the way to my bones. He was in my blood. His heart beat in my chest. He owned me.

  We stared at one another, oblivious to anyone else. Alexander’s face betrayed nothing. His eyes were cold, hard sapphires that contained none of the fire that usually ignited the moment we saw each other.

  I’d told him I hated him. I’d meant it in the moment. I hated how I couldn’t control myself around him. I hated that I would always forgive him. I hated how he consumed me.

  And I loved him for all those same reasons.

  But behind his detachment, the only thing I spied was venom. Our love had become poison, and it was killing us both slowly.

  The world returned around us—seconds later, or minutes, or hours—I didn’t know how long the moment had stretched. It felt like an eternity.

  Edward looked from him to me, staying silent. Did he feel the weight of the air as acutely as I suddenly did?

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