Royally Bad (Royally Wrong Book 1)

my bedroom and halt in my tracks.
Across my bedroom, Theo grins at me.
My phone rings. I answer it.
“I think he’s still here,” Evans says, “His cell signal is still in the residence—”
“I found him,” I interrupt. “Call off your search. We’ll see you in the morning.” I hang up before Evans can ask any more questions, and I have to tell him the playboy prince is lying in my bed.

5
“Miss me?” Theo asks.
“Shoes off the bed,” I order, and march past him into the bathroom. With great care, I make sure not to slam the door. Then I press myself against it.
The sight of Theo, all shirtless six foot something of him—plus the ten inches he’s packing in his pants (and thankfully, he is wearing pants) is enough to make my ovaries explode.
If I survive this night without rubbing myself all over him, I will be very, very surprised.
Must. Channel. Miss. Mavery.
I open the door again, half-hoping he’s gone.
Nope. Still there, reclining on his back, biceps and triceps sleekly outlined against the bedspread as he pillows his head in his hands. He’s kicked off his shoes. Looks like he’s here to stay.
Some part of me is instantly resigned to him being here, our attraction as final and inexorable as gravity. Some part of me wants to jump his bones.
The way he’s stretched out, it’d be so easy.
He transfers his gaze from the ceiling to me, long lashes fanning across his tanned skin.
How can a man be this pretty? And rich. And smart. And famous.
It’s not fucking fair.
“So, Vesper. You gonna ask me why I’m here?”
“No,” I reply, sifting through my suitcase for the baggiest pair of yoga pants I own. Add to them a giant t-shirt proclaiming ‘I love NYC’ and my Sarah Palin/Tina Fey black framed glasses, and I have the perfect cock-blocking outfit. Not as good as a pantsuit, but it’s all I’ve got.
“I know what you’re doing,” I continue, rising with clothes in hand to kick off my heels. “You’re making my life difficult. You’ve been doing it since I set foot on your doorstep.”
“I agreed to do everything you wanted.”
“Which is why I’m not throwing you out on your ass,” I say. “You need a good night’s sleep before tomorrow, and so do I. It may as well be here, where I can keep an eye on you.”
“Is that what we’re going to do?” He raises a brow. “Sleep?”
In answer, I shut the bathroom door. I wash my face and change into my armor. After I set my glasses on my nose, I study my reflection. I have a pretty face. Not as pretty as Theo’s, but my thin build and elfin face get me enough stares on the subway. Add to that my long, thick blonde hair flowing out behind me like a golden flag, and I get more than second looks.
I’ve had enough attention to last a lifetime. But for some reason, I want Theo to look at me.
After a long moment, I let down my hair.
When I exit the bathroom, Theo sits up, and I know letting my hair down was a mistake.
But his hot gaze on me feels like a win.
“No, we’re not just going to sleep,” I announce. “We’re going to talk.
“Just talk?” Another eyebrow raises.
“Just talk.” I turn to the dresser to take out my earrings.
A whisper of fabric, and heat hits my back. Theo’s awesome sexual presence surrounds me.
“Just talk? Are you sure about that?” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around my waist. A good thing he does, because my legs almost give out.
He pulls me back against him and my mind goes blank. Something long and very, very hard presses against my bottom.
“This is sexual harassment,” the Miss Mavery part of me parrots. The rest of me melts into Theo’s giant body.
“Is it? How so?” He tugs my shirt collar to the side and plants a small kiss on my shoulder.
It takes everything in me not to whirl around and wrap my arms around his neck. He’s very hard and warm. And... hard. “Um…”
“Why don’t you tell me all about it.” He steps away and tugs me around. “In bed.”
He draws me to the bed slowly. I walk very carefully, as if I might accidentally slip and fall and land on his dick.
Hey, it could happen. Baggy yoga pants non-withstanding.
But as soon as I get to the bed, I break away and slip under the covers. “No. Just no.” I stop him when he goes to do the same.
He smirks and lies atop the comforter, propped on his side facing me. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
“Not one bit, Mr. Fuck God. Your reputation precedes you. You made your bed. You can lie in it.”
“As long as I can lie in it with you.”
I roll my eyes. “Calm down, Casanova. You’re not going to seduce me tonight.”
He traces the design on the blanket, his finger straying dangerously close to my boob. “Can you blame me if I try? You’re hot.”
I give him a look.
“Oh, come on. Not even those glasses hide it. Though they do give me tons of sexy librarian fantasies.”
“Your books are overdue, Mr. Kensington,” I say sternly.
“Fuck me,” he groans, rolling to his back.
“No. Not gonna happen. I don’t fuck boys who are prettier than me.”
“I’m not boy. I’m a man.”
“Then act like one. Skateboarding? Really?”
“I like it. I won a competition—”
“When you were a teen. You’re twenty-eight.”
“How old are you?”
“None of your business.”
His eyes glitter. “I can make it my business. I’ll call down to Evans right now—”
“Twenty-six.”
“You’re young.”
“Age is just a number. I’ve got experience.”
He smirks.
“As a media specialist,” I clarify. “My last five clients—”
“I know about your clients. I read your file.”
“You read?” I snark back, and he makes a face.
I hit him with a pillow, and he grabs it from me, putting it behind his head.
This is nice. This is comfortable. At least, as comfortable as we can be with all this sexual tension buzzing between us. The