8. Anna

Anna

J ames rushes to the door and whispers something to the man on the other side. When he returns to me, his wide grin gives him away before he speaks. "No need for us to get married,. After all, at least not today. Eliza is no longer on the market."

"You never answered me. What did you do?"

"When you left, I recalled the only reason ‘James' wanted to get married in the story was to ensure his brother didn't become King." He rubs the back of his neck. "So, I'm letting him."

"James," I shriek, "you're ruining the book!"

He prowls up the bed, bracing a hand on either side of me above my head. "I'd ruin fifty if it meant that in the end, I get the coveted happily ever after with you." I scramble to get away, and he lets me. "Do you trust me?"

"No," I laugh, pulling the skirt of my dress down.

His brows furrow. "Why not?"

"You literally just told me that you'd ruin the author's work to be with me. While I appreciate the book boyfriend energy, this isn't a dark romance, James. It's a cosy Regency drama where they fall in love after pretending to be together in a fake relationship."

"Then, pretend to be with me. If that's what it takes to get us out of this nightmare, I'll take it."

There are only a few ways I typically wake from a dream—falling or an obnoxious alarm clock. I'd jump out a window, but I'd risk the story changing even further. James claims he set an alarm back in our present-day reality, but I have little faith I'll wake on my own if something is amiss back home. We'll need to see this through until the end.

"Prince James," the voice from the other side of the door calls. "We must hurry if you want to attend the wedding."

James pushes off the bed and adjusts his attire, and while he looks dashing, I prefer him in modern clothing. I'm beginning to have real feelings for him, so the sooner we get out of here, the better. Jen will never allow me to live this down if I ever tell her that he convinced me to go through with this ridiculous plan of ours— of mine.

"We should go," he says with a defeated sigh.

"I'm hardly dressed for a wedding." I gesture to my ripped gown.

A small smirk tugs at his lips. "I'd still proudly have you on my arm."

It's the moment you sense coming on in books—the ‘fuck it' moment—where the hero or heroine gives in to everything and risks it all. It's right there, in the air, practically crackling between us. He takes another step back, the moment moving further from reach.

"I can't be seen like this! I look as if I've been fucked senseless."

His eyebrows raise slightly as he bites his lip. "That can be arranged."

I make my way off the bed and to the vanity to fix my appearance. Smoothing out my dress and replacing pins in my hair, James comes up from behind. As he snakes his hand around my waist, he splays his fingers on my stomach, pulling me to him. Quickly turning in his arms, I wrap mine around his neck and pull him closer to me until our lips are a breath away.

I'm about to enjoy my quick ‘fuck it' moment when there's a rapping of knuckles on the door. James rests his forehead on mine. "It's for you to decide, Anna. Stay here with me, or stop the wedding."

"What happened to the whole ‘you're mine' bit?" It's ridiculous of me to ask, but I can't help myself.

"Do you honestly think I'll give you up when this is over? I don't care about the outcome of the book. In the end, all I want is you." His words sear me worse than fire, making my heart stop.

"And you promise we'll actually date? You won't ask that I move in or marry you the moment we wake up?"

He kisses my forehead and holds me tighter. "Of course. But you need to make a choice so we can end all of this nonsense."

I mull it over for a moment and chuckle softly, "Fuck it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I tilt my chin, resting it on his chest. "It means we should let your brother marry Eliza, and the author will have to put out a third edition. So, if we don't have a wedding to get to—" James lifts me onto the vanity, standing between my legs. "I've read this book; it's a good one."

"And what happens in that story?" He cups the back of my neck, resting his thumb on my cheek. "Do they live happily ever after?"

"Yes, my James, they live happily ever after."

He leans in and kisses me sweetly, different from any of the kisses we've shared. His lips are warm and inviting me to claim them as mine. As I slip my tongue into his mouth, a growl erupts from his chest, vibrating against me. Kissing James is unlike kissing any other man. He shrugs off his jacket, and what started as sweet and sensual is quickly becoming ravenous. As I reach for his trousers, he swats my hand away and murmurs, "You don't get to touch me until I've made you come twice. Is that understood?" I nod, not breaking our kiss, and he smiles against my lips.

Wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, he lifts me from the vanity and dumps me onto the bed, but quickly, he turns me and pulls my ass into the air until I'm on my knees and elbows. I hate not seeing what he's doing; the dress has too many layers so I can hardly see over all of it as he gathers it around my waist. Palming my ass, he whispers, "So fucking beautiful."

My emotions are on high alert as he moves his hands up my back, pressing my chest into the mattress, then returns behind me. I jolt at the sensation of his tongue licking up my seam and swirling around my entrance. A string of swear words escapes me as he slips two fingers into my wet cunt. Hardly able to catch my breath as he slowly curls his fingers three times, I gasp when he pulls them out and drags them up to my ass, his middle finger testing my asshole.

"What are you doing?" I pant, my clit all but screaming for attention.

"I'm enjoying seeing you squirm."

James continues his torture, then finally puts me out of my misery, circling my clit with this tongue and sucking hard with his finger two knuckles into my ass. A string of memories that aren't my own dance behind my eyes—walking along the Thames, dancing under the stars, reading books while cuddling on the couch, and James on one knee in a large courtyard. I scream into the bed, gripping the eiderdown as my orgasm washes over me.

"James," I breathe, "what's happening?" My heart refuses to slow.

"You came all over my face," he replies matter-of-factly.

Did he not experience that faux highlight reel?

As I catch my breath, he helps me out of my dress and whispers, "I'm not done with you yet."