THE WICKED PRINCE (A Dirty Royals Novel) by Vivian Wood
Release Date: June 2nd
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I was born to a crown I don’t want.
My name is Crown Prince Stellan Augustus Love IV. I’m big, brawny, and brainy. More importantly, I know that duty and honor come before what I want… but it’s so hard to be perfect.
When I meet pretty, pink haired, punk-rock Margot, I make myself a deal. I can have her… but only for one earth shattering night.
Proud, rebellious, a perfect body made for sin. Margot is my weakness; it’s too bad that she’s also a journalist. I know that if she even deigns to look my way, I am done for. So I take her to bed for just one unforgettable night…
When she shows up again in Copenhagen, she is tasked with doing a story about me and the future of the royal line. And I’m saddled with my nightmare… I can look at Margot all I want… but never ever touch her.
Every time our hands brush, every single lustful glance, every damn time she bites her lip… Eventually, even my strong will can’t overcome temptation. Even though it’s wrong, even though my life is already all plotted out.
It’s inevitable. The only question is, once I give in and take what I need… will just having Margot just one more time be enough?
Margot glares at me. “Look. You clearly have a…” She waves her hand over my body. “Like a whole thing going on here. Cocky, handsome, bad boy, brooding… whatever. To each his own. But I think we can dispense with the bullshit. Don’t you?”
I don’t give her an inch. Instead I just roll my eyes and casually head for another set of doors on the other side of the hallway. I call back as I fling the doors open. “So you think I’m handsome?”
She makes a strangled sound, following me into a darkened parlor. There is no furniture except for one couch, which I promptly fall on. Margot looks around the room, then opts to sort of lean against the back on the sofa.
“I clearly meant that… you were going for… that sort of thing,” she bites off.
I can’t help but notice the outline of her ass in that velvet dress. Just looking at her right now makes me thirsty. I have to say something, something to let her know she doesn’t get to me.
Even though she so clearly does. She starts pacing, from her spot behind the couch to a spot right in front of me.
God, I have never wanted her more than right now. Her color is high, her dress is slutty, and she’s stalking around the room in a fit of pique.
I frown, scanning Margot from head to toe. “God, you really are underdressed. Are you even wearing panties?”
She turns bright red, standing up straight and avoiding my gaze. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she snaps.
“Well… yes, actually.” I smirk at her. “That’s why I asked.”
To my complete shock, she actually balls up her first, moves right up to me, and smacks me on the shoulder. “You are such a jerk!”
My eyes widen.
No one other than my brothers has ever dared to breathe too hard in my direction, much less actually hit me. I’m surprised a second time when I burst out laughing. I throw my hands up, playing innocent. “It’s strictly for scientific observation!”
Margot scrunches up her face and hits me again. Only this time I grab her small hand in mine before she can land a blow.
She glares at me, tugging at her hand. “You really are the worst. Do other people get to witness this side of your personality, or am I just the luckiest girl in the world?”
I smirk, refusing to let her go. “You’re a brat. Did you know that? Every single inch of you is just a spoiled little brat.”
She yanks at her hand, which makes me grip it harder. “When did I have the chance to become spoiled? Hmm? Was it when I was growing up in that group home? No, maybe it was when I was busting my ass and working two jobs to put myself through college.”
The way she’s looking at me makes my blood sing. My heart starts hammering a staccato beat in my chest. My cock stirs, making its needs known. I give her a dry rumble of a laugh.
“I don’t know, but you are. You’re also rather defiant.”
She tosses her head haughtily. “You know next to nothing about me. How can you stand there and judge me?”
Margot’s eyes are throwing sparks as they burn into mine. Her chest heaves.
“We are not equals. I was born to the throne… I was born to rule. What were you born to do?” I tug on her hand hard and her small hips jerk against mine. The contact sears me through.
She actually laughs at that. My eyes stray from hers down to her mouth. Her lips are bewitching. “You’re crazy.”
I bring my hand up to grip the back of her head, barely aware of my intentions. Before I know it, I lean forward and press my lips to her lips. She only has a split second to respond; she turns her head just a little so that my mouth ends up only catching the corner of hers.
Margot’s eyes widen.
For a moment, we are frozen just like that. Me, knowing I have made a huge mistake. Her, probably wondering how to get out of my embrace.
That second seems to stretch forever… but it shatters when she raises her hands to my chest and shoves me. She’s smaller than I am so in effect she pushes herself away, sputtering.
“What are you doing? Are you insane?!”
I can’t help but agree with her, honestly. What was I thinking? Taking a deep breath, I try to ease some of the tension that has been building between us. I shrug my shoulders and play it cool.
“It seemed like the thing to do.”
She makes a disgusted sound and backs away from me. “It wasn’t.”
A narrow my eyes. “I won’t apologize.”
Margot gives me a bitter look. “Of course not. Why would you apologize about
anything at all, ever?” Straightening her dress, she turns and starts to leave the room.
I stop her with a word. “Margot.”
She stills, although she doesn’t turn back toward me. When she answers, her words are tart. “Yes, your highness?”
My lips twitch. “You look good in that dress.”
She whips her head around and glares at me, then leaves the room with a disgusted sound on her lips.
About the Author:
Vivian Wood is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal, and Amazon Top 20 bestselling author.
Vivian likes to write about troubled, deeply flawed alpha males and the fiery, kick-ass women who bring them to their knees.
Vivian’s lasting motto in romance is a quote from a favorite song: “Soulmates never die.”
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