International Guy: Copenhagen (International Guy Series Book 3) Read online

  I lick my lips, wishing it were her tongue doing it. “Is that right? And if I were in bed next to you, what would you do to me?” I want so badly for her to play along.

  She sighs long and low. I know that sound. I remember it very clearly. It means she’s running her hands along her skin, but just barely. She loves a soft touch, a caress from just the tips of my fingers against her skin. Gives her goose bumps, everywhere.

  “I’d straddle your thighs, so you couldn’t move them, pinning you down while I rubbed my lower half along your length.”

  Sweet, sweet woman. “And . . .”

  “I’d run my hands over your chest, flicking and pinching your nipples, making you crazy with the need for me to put my mouth on them. Can you do that for me now?” she demands.

  I put her on speaker and place the phone on my stomach. “You’re on speaker.”

  “Are you doing as I asked?”

  “Hell yes! Keep talking. I’m so hard for you, Sky . . . damn, baby.”

  She moans as I flick and pinch the flat brown disks hard enough that I cry out softly.

  “Oooh, I hear you. When you moan, Parker, it’s like you’re calling out for me. It makes me wet . . .”

  “Jesus, how wet?” I grate through my teeth.

  “Soaked,” she murmurs, and I lose my mind, arching into the empty air. She’s driving me mad with her words.

  “I’m running my hands over my breasts, pinching my nipples, pretending you’re licking and biting them in that flawless pinch-nip thing you do.”

  I smile while shoving down my boxers to my knees, the phone on my belly teetering precariously but staying put. “Keep those hands moving, Peaches. I want you to feel how wet you are.”

  “I will if you wrap your hand around your long, hard cock and pretend it’s my hand touching you. Gripping you tentatively at first, then running up the length, swirling my thumb around the silky top until you gift me with a little drop of heaven.”

  “Fuck!” I mimic her words, closing my eyes, imagining it’s her touching me, leaning down, her hair kissing my chest and stomach as she licks off the drop on the tip of my dick.

  “God, Parker!” she cries out.

  “Are you touching yourself, Peaches? Running your fingers all over your slippery cunt?” I tug my hard cock, arching my hips with the effort.

  “Yes!” Her voice is raspy, breathy, as though she’s been running, but I know better. When my girl goes wild for it, she goes all in. No barriers. No insecurities. She’s free, unashamed with her sexuality.

  “Put two fingers inside, Sky. Just like I would. Nice and deep.” I keep up a steady rhythm on my cock, up and down. I lick my thumb and rub it around the head. A lightning bolt of pleasure ripples through my cock to my groin.

  “It’s so good, honey . . . I wish you were here,” she gasps.

  “Christ, me too.”

  “I’m going to come all over my fingers imagining you, Parker. Come with me . . . ,” she moans, and her voice rises. “Yes . . . honey, please . . .”

  “Hot damn, I love it when you beg, Peaches! I’m right there with you, jacking my dick, ready to explode for you.”

  “Yes, me too. Almost t-there . . .” She stutters with her effort.

  “Swirl two fingers around that hot little clit, like I would. Go to town on it.”

  She cries out. I’m panting, my dick so hard it feels like it could burst at any moment. My balls feel heavy between my thighs as I jerk up and down along to the sexy-as-fuck sounds she’s making through the phone.

  “Parker!” She cries out, and I know that sound. It’s stamped in my memory. I could never forget the sound of Skyler Paige coming.

  It tips me over the edge, and I squeeze my dick as hard as I know her cunt would if she were on top, riding herself to orgasm.

  “Goddamn it, Sky!” I call out as my balls draw up, my entire body flexes, muscles straining to max proportions, and the first jet of my release pours out the tip. Over and over I pump my hips into the air, imagining a phantom Skyler riding on top until it’s over and I’m spent.

  Shivers undulate down my limbs, and I shake off the intense feeling, fully coming back to this unfamiliar room with its opulence and formal design. Definitely not the love nest I enjoyed at Skyler’s apartment back in New York.

  Sky hums, making my dick twitch. “You okay, honey?” she asks.

  “Better than okay.” I chuckle and flex my toes, letting the last tremors of pleasure leave my system. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Me too. Guess it will have to suffice until the next time we see one another and can reenact it in person.” She laughs softly.

  Her words are a reminder of the distance between us. And it’s more than just this business trip. When I go home, she won’t be there. Maybe I can stop off for a day or two in New York? The idea has merit. Would that be too much too soon?

  Fuck it. I don’t care. In my euphoric sex haze with a jet-lagged brain, I blurt out my desire.

  “Was thinking about having Wendy change my flight to have a day or two layover in New York. Would you be interested in a houseguest for a couple of days?”

  “Really?” The eagerness in her tone relieves my earlier worries that it’s too soon. I need to just go with the flow when it comes to Skyler. It’s what we decided and seems to be the only way for now.

  “I wouldn’t have said it, Peaches, if I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  “As long as it’s within the next ten days. We start filming out of town then.”

  “Sounds like I need to get my ass in gear and handle this case quick.”

  “I’d like that, Parker, I’d like it very much. And you can meet my new security team.”

  “Security team?” I sit up, grab a handful of tissues on the nightstand, and wipe up my mess, trekking into the bathroom to toss it in the wastebasket and wash my hands. I’m tired as fuck and need to hit the sheets after coming so fantastically, but I want to hear her voice.

  I can hear the sound of water running in the background. “Yes! I’ve hired Van Dyken Security. A husband-and-wife duo. I’ve bought the small three-bedroom apartment under mine for them. We’ve already gone out, and they are incredible at what they do. The woman, Rachel, is a few years older than me and a badass. She said she’s going to teach me CrossFit and self-defense! Isn’t that cool?”

  Self-defense. Yes. A husband-and-wife bodyguard, meaning that there won’t be a young man lusting after Skyler . . . brilliant. Though I’m not going to share that bit of information. “That does sound good.”

  “And the guy, honey. He’s huge! All muscles and badassness, but he’s soft-spoken. Treats me and his wife as though we are precious jewels.”

  “Precious jewels. Sky, he needs to guard you . . . ,” I start.

  “Yes, that’s his manners. When it comes to his wife and me, he’s sweet. Around town and out of the house, he’s an all-business bulldog. It’s like he transforms into a superhero or something.”

  “A superhero. Sky, are you sure you haven’t spent too much time in the sci-fi movie world?” I harass her in good fun.

  “Shut up! It’s just he’s cool. And she’s super nice but protective. Goes with me into the bathroom, dressing rooms, and everything. They even come on set, and she stays with me wherever I am while he does circuits around the buildings, checking out people, watching them. I’ve had good bodyguards, but these two take the job very seriously.”

  “As they should. You’re a hot commodity, Peaches. Don’t get complacent or comfortable. Stay aware.”

  “I will. I’m just excited for you to meet them. And it’s really nice to have a couple of people to talk to. They don’t treat me like I’m a big celebrity. They treat me like I’m their friend. It’s nice. It’s been awhile since I’ve had a group of people around me who were there because they actually wanted to be.”

  I clench my teeth until my jaw hurts. I want to tell her that her guards are there because she’s paying them, but I don’t want to b
urst her bubble. She’s happy, we just had exceptional phone sex, and I need to get some sleep.

  “I’m happy for you. And as much as I would love to talk all night, it’s late here, and I’m dead on my feet. Besides, someone made the beast so happy he’s finally relaxed.”

  “The beast.” She makes a disgruntled sound. “His name is Biggie. Get it right.”

  I chuckle and head back to bed now that I’ve cleaned my abdomen from our sexcapade. “You can call him whatever you want. He’s happy, I’m happy, I hope to hell you’re happy . . .”

  “I am,” she whispers, and I wish I could wrap my arms around her, wedge my dick against her ass cheeks, and fall asleep with her in my arms. I haven’t slept as well since I left New York over a week ago now. Though tonight I have a feeling I’ll be fine.

  “Good. Have a great rest of your day. And congrats on the acting. I’m proud of you.”

  “I’m proud of me too. Talk soon?”

  “Talk soon.”

  “Dream of me,” she says, and hangs up.

  “I always do,” I whisper to the empty room. I set my phone on the charger next to the bed and do a face-plant into the fluffy comforter.

  I can feel her staring, but she’s not the her I want staring at me. Once more I open my eyes to a bright morning, an unfamiliar room, and Christina sitting on my bed sipping her coffee.

  Skyler would be a welcome wake-up call. The feisty princess? Not so much.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” she states perkily. “Or is it not so good since you’re not making out with your bed, calling out your girlfriend’s name?”

  “She’s not my girlfriend, and why are you here anyway?” I mumble, and turn over onto my back, scratching at my chest.

  Her gaze follows the move, and she smirks. “I want to know how your visits with Sven and my sister went. Learn anything interesting about me?” She lifts the cup to her lips.

  “Do you really care?” I counter in an attempt to discover her frame of mind. If she’s here first thing in the morning, she’s got an agenda to play out.

  She stands up, heading to the coffee cart, her leggings hugging every inch of her voluptuous ass. The crown prince chose well. On her feet are cherry-red stilettos. The look is completed with crimson-stained lips and a white silk blouse that hangs off one shoulder. My kryptonite. I love a woman with bold-red lips. Her hair is pulled up today, which is almost a travesty. She’s got great hair, and she’s rockin’ the fierce look to a tee.

  “Looked your fill, Mr. Ellis?” She smirks over her shoulder as she pours a fresh cup of coffee for herself and what I’m hoping is one for me.

  I push up and lean my back against the headboard. “You’ve got a great figure. It would be a shame not to admire it. I know the crown prince adores it. He made that very clear yesterday.”

  She lifts the cup of black coffee she poured me, her hands trembling a bit. For a moment, she just stands there, not facing me. I imagine she’s taking a breath, calming her response. She turns around, feisty-girl persona back in place. “Oh?” she queries, as if she weren’t hanging on every word I mention about the prince.

  “Yep. Turns out he’s madly in love with you.” I take the cup she offers, barely grabbing it before she spills it.

  “Did he tell you that, or did you assume that? You know what they say about people who assume . . .” She tries to deflect my comment.

  I chuckle. “His words, not mine.”

  “I highly doubt a man of his standing would entertain locker-room talk.” She tuts, going back to the cart to get her own cup.

  “First of all, locker-room talk is not where a man discusses the woman he’s in love with. It’s where a jock boasts about the woman he’s fucking. Big difference.”

  She shrugs. “Well, I don’t believe you. I believe you are in cahoots with my mother, telling me what you think I want to hear, when you should be getting my mother to assist Sven in agreeing to wed my sister.”

  I sip my coffee, but today it’s bitter on my tongue, or perhaps it’s the conversation. Knowing there’s only one way to get her to believe me, I grab my phone.

  “What? You’re tired of our witty morning banter already?” She laughs, but it lacks sincerity.

  “Just listen, Princess.” I press “Play” on the recording I had with Sven yesterday.

  “Tell me more about Christina. Why do you want to marry her?”

  “Besides the fact that I’ve been in love with her since we were children?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s my everything. My perfect opposite. She balances out life’s challenges with her laugh, her kiss, the way she holds me in her arms as though the sun rises and sets with our love. She is my fairy-tale bride. The only woman I see standing by my side.”

  “And do you think she feels the same about you?”

  “I always did. Never once did I doubt her love for me, and our future together. Then everything changed.”

  “When?”

  “After my brother died and I became heir apparent. It’s as if a switch flicked and all of a sudden, she was acting out. Partying. Avoiding me. Creating distance between us.”

  “And yet you still love her?”

  “I’ll always love her. She’s the air I need to breathe. The scent I need filling my lungs in order to sleep. The only woman I can ever imagine carrying my children. If I can’t have heirs with her, I don’t want them.”

  “I’m going to try my best to see what I can do to help, but when it comes to matters of the heart . . . We just can’t ever know how she’ll respond. I’m trying to get to the bottom of her sudden change.”

  “I hope you can, Mr. Ellis . . . Parker, I mean.” A long pause. “I don’t want to go this road alone, but I will if I can’t have her.”

  “That’s it.” I click “Stop” on the recording.

  Christina’s hands shake as she sets down her coffee and clasps her fingers together, twisting them before she starts to pace the room. “I . . . I . . . knew this would be hard. For both of us . . . but I never . . .” The words fall away as her emotions take hold.

  “Never what?” I encourage, wanting her to get it out. Tell the truth about what she’s experiencing.

  She shakes her head. “Never did I think he’d choose to go it alone. He’s not the type of man who can be alone. He’s filled with too much love and heart. He needs to share that, or . . .”

  “Or?”

  “He’ll be miserable.” The words come out coated in her sorrow.

  “He doesn’t want to be alone, Christina . . .”

  She clears her throat, and her facade moves back into place as she turns around and places her hands on her hips. “That’s why I want him with Lizzie; it’s the right choice. She’ll make the perfect queen.” She says it as though she’s trying to convince herself as much as me.

  “He doesn’t want a person to hold a title, Princess. He wants . . . you!”

  “He can’t have me!” she screeches.

  “Why not?” I fire back.

  “Because I’m not right for him!” she bellows, the hurt filling the room with every breath she takes.

  I choke on my retort, getting more angry by the second. “Now that you may be right about. He needs someone who’s not self-centered and focused on her own needs,” I sneer.

  “You don’t know anything about me!” Her voice comes out as lethal as poison-dipped claws, ready to lash out with venomous fury.

  “No, Princess. I only know the girl the paparazzi show me.”

  She scowls and glances away while starting to pace once more. “He needs to move on. He has to. It’s in his best interest. Lizzie will do everything right. He’ll never have a bad thing said about his leadership with her by his side. Lizzie will make him proud. She’s the right woman for the job.”

  “There’s only one problem with your statement,” I state flatly.

  She stops and stares at me, her eyes filled with confusion, irritation, and sadness.

  “He doesn�
��t want the right woman for the job. He wants the right woman for him.”

  6

  “You may come in, Mr. Ellis,” Princess Mary, my client, calls out as I hover near her open office door.

  I enter the regal office and note how very different her workspace is from mine. Where we’ve got clean lines, airy architecture, and a monochromatic look at International Guy Inc., her office is dripping in gold filigree, woven patterns, dusty books stuffed into wall-to-wall bookcases, and a dark, cavelike atmosphere. It would be easier for me to lie down on the chaise and take a nap than to get any work done. However, based on the way the princess is reviewing documents on her desk, she doesn’t seem to have that problem.

  “How can I help you today, Mr. Ellis?”

  I lean my hands on the back of one of the fabric-covered chairs instead of sitting. I don’t plan on staying long. Frankly the woman makes me uncomfortable. She reminds me of being in the principal’s office back in elementary school.

  “I’m trying to locate Princess Christina. Usually I run into her first thing in the morning . . . ,” I fib. Christina tends to overstep boundaries by entering my room uninvited in the mornings, but I’m not about to share that tidbit of info with her mother. It is odd that over the past week, I haven’t crossed paths with her again until later in the evenings for dinner.

  The princess sets down one of her files and crosses her hands over one another in her lap, giving me her full attention.

  “My daughter does her secret charity work and volunteering during the day.” A small frown mars her pretty features. “I’d have thought you would know that by now. Are you not following her?”

  I shake my head. “Not at the moment, no. I’ve been connecting with the crown prince, the staff, and her sister, Elizabeth, to formulate my own opinions on the situation you have brought me into. You say she does charity work?”

  She nods. “Always has. Volunteers every day. Women’s issues, orphanage, the hospital . . .” She waves her hand in the air and moves a file in front of her. “Ask Henrik. He can give you the details, as he’s the one who drives her there.”