Royal Bastard by Avery Wilde

like? Was it tender or demanding? Would he grab the back of my head or would he cradle my face? The stupid questions had been endless, one of the many reasons I hadn’t gotten much sleep.
    The doors opened and I took in the prince’s flat for the first time. The hardwood floors were in sharp contrast to the white walls, and while I expected rigidly stuffed and hard leather chairs I was surprised to see that the furniture was more for comfort than for showing off. An open kitchen with all the modern appliances was also visible from my vantage point at the main entrance, as well as a glass and wooden staircase off to my right that led to the second level, where I was sure my new client lay.
    “Um, hello?” I called out softly, taking a few steps into the main living room. “It’s Rose, Rose Mathis. If there are any guards… please don’t shoot me.” There was no response save the ticking of an art deco clock on the wall not far from me and the sound of a gentle snore coming from somewhere up above. Maybe I had come too early. Too bad.
    Squaring my shoulders, I forced my feet to move towards the staircase. Well, I was already here, after all. I was going to have to face the prince’s wrath for waking him up. Slowly I climbed the stairs to the second floor, finding an open floor plan with a large bed dominating the centre. He was sprawled out on the bed, his arms flung out as if he were impersonating a starfish. He slumbered on, unaware that I was stepping into his personal space.
    I felt awkward that I hadn’t made more noise and had taken it upon myself to saunter into his bedroom. But all those thoughts went out the window as I admired his well-formed chest and abs, getting a little weak in the knees at the thought of what else might be lying under the sheet that settled low on his hips. He was gorgeous and damn lickable, if you asked me.
    I bit my lip, unsure what I should do to wake him up. Was a gentle shake of his shoulder enough, or should I beat him with a pillow until he opened his eyes? Was I brave enough to even touch him? My hands trembled at the thought. This was such a bad idea. I should just go back downstairs and wait until he woke up by himself. I could explain that way better than being in his bedroom. Swallowing hard, I reached out and touched his leg, covered in the silken sheets.
    “Er, Prince Edward?” I said, shaking it a little. “Hey, wake up.”
    He muttered and rolled over, the small indentation of his lower back and the top of his ass coming into view. Oh god. The temperature in his flat immediately rose ten degrees, or that could’ve just been my face burning up with embarrassment and desire. He was completely naked under that thin sheet. One good tug and I would have a view that I wouldn’t forget!
    My cheeks flushed again with part naughtiness and wickedness as I averted my eyes from his glorious backside, wondering how I had thought this was a good idea again. Oh yeah. Ten grand. That would make anyone in their right mind do something like this.
    Reining in my inner naughty school-girl, I decided to stick with the top half of him—the much safer half—and I walked over to the bed and placed a hand upon his shoulder, feeling his heat as I gave it a good shake. “Prince Edward, wake up. Please don’t make me douse you with cold water.”
    His eyes finally opened, and for a split second, I saw a tender expression on his face that had my heart doing double-time in my chest. Oh, how long had I wanted someone to look at me like that in the morning or to even be excited to see me in that regard? But his expression changed nearly immediately. His mouth turned up into a lazy, cocky grin, his eyes becoming clearer as he looked at me. “You’re taking the job. I knew you would.”
    “I’m taking the job on a few conditions,” I said, stepping back from the bed. “Can you, um, get dressed so we can talk about it?”
    He slowly sat up, his hand rubbed idly across his chest and I