“So tight.” He wheezed out the words as he moved out slowly. “So fucking tight.”
I bit hard on my lip to not yell. It didn’t feel as good as his tongue, but I didn’t dare say that. I’d read enough articles and heard enough stories from friends to know that your first time wasn’t magical, no matter how gorgeous the guy or how incredible his body was. My nails dug into his sides, and then his back as he found a steady rhythm. He squeezed his eyes shut as if he was the one in physical pain, and his forehead settled on mine.
“What’s your name?” he panted.
“I thought . . . it didn’t . . . matter.” I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts, finding my own rhythm in this.
“I want to know.”
“Adeline.”
“Adeline. Adeline. Adeline.” He used it as a chant with each thrust, as if he needed to remember who it was he was fucking, and when he flipped us over so I was on top, I made sure to make it so he’d remember this chant tomorrow when I was far away from this place and he was attending another one of these parties.
He brought his hands up to my breasts and squeezed my nipples, making my back arch on its own accord. My orgasm took me by surprise, the sensation crawling through me all at once until it felt like I would explode from the inside. I felt when he found his own ecstasy, his well-formed abs clenching beneath my fingertips as he pumped inside me and growled my name once more. I never once said his. I didn’t know what to say if I wanted to. It was better that way. I knew I’d remain completely unattached if I had no face to his name and no name to every other part of him. We lay beside each other, breathing hard, covered in sweat, and I wondered if I should get dressed and leave now. Etienne was probably still upstairs. I’d left my phone at home, knowing they’d take it away from me if I brought it, so it wasn’t like he had any way to reach me.
My answer came when the man beside me began to snore lightly. I pushed the sheets away and went to the bathroom. That was when I noticed tiny trickles of blood. I didn’t think he’d broken my hymen. I was pretty sure gymnastics and horseback riding had done that, but now I wasn’t so sure. My thoughts raced. Were the sheets bloodied? No. This was too little blood to begin with. I flushed, washed my hands, and dressed quickly, placing the mask back on my face before making my way to the door. I glanced at him one last time. The sheet was covering just the right parts, as if it had purposely been draped over him for a photograph. I sighed as I opened the door and closed it quietly behind me. A part of me felt the loss the moment I stepped out of that room. I’d never given my virginity much importance until that moment when I no longer had it.
By the time I got to the floor that the party was taking place, I was smiling again. It hadn’t been a fairy-tale experience with rose petals and candles, but it had been perfect nonetheless. I found Etienne, standing near the back door with his hands on his hips, and I knew he was looking for me. When I reached him, he shook his head.
“I’ve been looking everywhere. I even walked to your house thinking you were home.”
“No man left behind, remember?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Where were you?”
“Around.” I shrugged. “Didn’t you tell me to have fun?”
“How much fun did you have?” He eyed me closely, a smile tugging on his lips.
“More than I’ve ever had.”
“Adeline Sofia Isabella Bouchard!”
“Etienne Pierre Bellerose,” I said in a mocking tone.
“We are leaving this party right now.” He grabbed my arm and led me outside with a laugh. “Your father will murder me if he finds out this happened under my watch.”
“Oh please. As if he doesn’t know your reputation.”
“Still.” He yanked his mask over his head as we walked over to my parents’ villa. “Who was he?”
“I don’t know.” I pulled my mask off as we reached the door.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t. He was . . . dreamy. Gorgeous. So, so hot.” I sighed. “But I didn’t get his name. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“Today,” he said, glancing at the big-faced watch on his wrist. “Your flight is in four hours. You need to finish packing and we need to go.”
“Shit.” I practically ran inside the house.
I showered, changed, and finished packing quickly as Etienne sat in the living room, telling me about the woman he was talking to at the party. My parents were gone for the weekend, which was why Etienne was staying with me. He’d been my best friend since I was born. Our mothers were best friends and their wish was that we’d end up together. Unfortunately for them, we weren’t each other’s types. Etienne was an artist and his type was model-thin, with more issues than Vogue. The kind of woman he could try to fix and take care of. My type was . . . well, probably the man I’d just lost my virginity to and would never see again. We talked quickly and about everything as he drove me to the airport. He spent an hour trying to figure out every single man at the party and who it could have been that I slept with. I let him because I was curious and also because watching Etienne decipher anything was a comedy in itself.
At the airport, I bought a magazine to entertain myself with. As I flipped the pages, I landed on a familiar face. My heart stopped. Prince Elias. That was the . . . surely it couldn’t be . . . except, it was. I knew it without a shadow of a doubt. I’d just lost my virginity to the future king of France.
Chapter 1
Five Years Later
Being back in Marbella sucked. My mother referred to this as home, and expected me to as well, but after living in so many places and finally settling in London, I didn’t consider this home at all. The last time I’d been here was two years ago; we celebrated Christmas here instead of Paris. Ever since I started my own event-planning business, I focused solely on work. That was, until a sex scandal rocked my entire world. It had been a few weeks, but after watching everything I worked so hard for going down the drain, along with the tears I had left to cry, I decided maybe going on a bit of a break like my mother suggested wasn’t such a bad idea.
It was confusing and hurtful to have people who claimed to be friends suddenly turn on me. For a few days, I was mostly just angry at my ex-boyfriend for letting the video leak, but it wasn’t his fault that his devices were hacked into and the world was skewed and unfair against women in these situations. It wasn’t like he’d asked for me to leave town and spend my summer in Marbella. It wasn’t like anyone asked me to leave the events I had planned in the capable hands of my mother and assistant while I helped my uncle run the bookstore that he was completely ruining by only stocking biographies and political books, and it wasn’t like anyone told me I’d be getting a huge slice of humble pie when he asked me to take over delivering baskets to the princes, who were back this summer, renting their usual four villas on our property. Nope. No one asked me to do any of this, yet here I was, angry and alone and completely hating every single decision I’d made in the last year of my life.
“My father said he could make the tabloid stories go away,” Etienne said, from the floor, where he was helping me stock new books I’d ordered for the store to liven the place up.