His Princess: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Read online

  When I was a younger man I used to believe there would be a woman who could handle the darkness in me… but not only that. I used to believe there would be a woman who would ignite something in me, who could push away pieces of the dark.

  It never happened and so I stopped looking.

  “There must be a mistake,” I tell him.

  “She’s adamant,” he says. “She says she needs your help. She says once you learn her name, you won’t be able to turn her away.”

  What the fuck?

  My instincts tingle.

  Perhaps this is the Cartel making a play or the mob.

  Both have been ramping up lately, and I’ve made it no secret I’m out to get each and every one of them.

  “What’s her name?” I snap. “No need to keep me in suspense.”

  “That’s the thing.” Gary sighs gruffly. “She won’t tell me. She says she’ll only tell you. She can’t risk me hearing it, apparently.”

  My curiosity gets the better of me, even if I know it’s probably some prank. That’s one of the downsides to being a celebrity before joining the police. I’m more well-known than the average officer, which isn’t a good thing where the underworld is concerned.

  “Okay. Gary, I know this is a pain in the ass, but could you leave the room while I speak with her?”

  “Yeah, it’s all good.”

  “Thank you.”

  There’s some shuffling on the other end of the line.

  I keep my grip tight on my gun, glancing toward the door, ready to snap the barrel up and blow the head off any motherfucker stupid enough to think an intercom call could distract me.

  If this is a trap, whoever’s behind it is going to regret it pretty damn quickly.

  “Yes, hello?” a woman whispers, her voice thick and alluring and sexy, somehow.

  How can a voice be sexy through a crackling intercom?

  It makes no sense, and yet my whole body is suddenly alight with the need to know more about her.

  “I’m here,” I growl, masking this sudden interest.

  I feel my manhood jerk, savage intensity moving through my body even if it shouldn’t, even if this woman is a stranger.

  I wonder, if this is it, if this is her, the woman I always thought I’d meet one day, the woman who would change everything.

  But no—I have to fight those thoughts.

  They were the deranged musings of a young confused man, reeling from the loss of his parents.

  I have to remember who I am.

  A detective, a cop, a man who keeps his wits honed to the mission and doesn’t let this sort of madness into his mind.

  “So?” I snap when she doesn’t say anything. “What’s your name?”

  She lowers her voice even more. “Ruby,” she says whispers. “Ruby McCarthy.”

  I let out a laugh, shaking my head. Whoever this is knows how to play a damn fine trick.

  “Ruby McCarthy is the princess of the Irish mob. I don’t think her uncle would be too happy about you using her name like this.”

  “My uncle is a fucking murdering psycho creep, so, frankly, I don’t really care what he thinks. So are you going to let me up or not?”

  Flames move through me at her sassiness, at her willingness to put herself forward like this.

  I should tell her no.

  I should tell myself no, tell myself these feelings are absurd and don’t make any sense.

  I should reject them: reject this whole thing.

  But something deep inside of me is roaring yes, fucking yes, in a way I’ve never felt before.

  “Do you have any weapons on you?” I ask.

  “No. I have my bag. The security guard is searching that.”

  I take my hand off the button, biting down, considering.

  If she is really Ruby McCarthy, this is a big deal.

  Her father was a good man, despite his business, and kept this city far safer than his brother has since his death… a death most people know was caused by Aaron and the goddamn Cartel.

  “Okay.” I sigh, knowing this could be a mistake. “But if this is a trick, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  Chapter Three

  Ruby

  I walk down the corridor with nerves pricking at me, my body dog-tired after the crazy morning I’ve had.

  After making a mad dash for the exit – and seeing thankfully the guards had been called to the safe – I slipped through and out into the forest. But it turns out I’m nowhere near as crafty out in nature as I’d led myself to believe, getting tangled up in the underbrush at one point, and taking twice as long to find the road.

  From there I tried hitchhiking, but then I saw a few of Uncle Aaron’s men pull up and I had to run back into the forest. In the end, I managed to catch a bus, using a sob story on the bus driver about my mom being sick.

  It made me feel sick, telling that lie, but Aaron has never allowed me to have any money. But lying about my mom – who gave her life so I could have mine – still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

  I’ve spent the late morning navigating through the city, hopping the subways, feeling like the most confused country bumpkin in the universe.

  But finally – exhausted, dehydrated, and terrified – I’m here.

  I don’t know what I was expecting when I showed up at the police officer’s apartment, but it definitely wasn’t a high-rise in the swankiest part of the city, with security at the door and a sleek glass elevator leading to his penthouse apartment.

  What sort of a cop can afford a penthouse apartment in this part of the city?

  I take a breath when I’m outside his door, my heart drumming, and not just with the madness of this morning.

  There was something about his voice over the phone, something captivating, enthralling in a way I’ve never felt before.

  I caution myself to remember why I’m here, for safety, to get as far away from Uncle Aaron and the mob as possible.

  But my belly swirls when I remember Officer Rawson’s gruffness, the way his deep shivering voice moved down the intercom.

  I try to tell myself I’m being silly. A voice can’t hold that much.

  Maybe I’d be able to convince myself if my body wasn’t alight at the sound of his footsteps on the other side of the door.

  What the heck is wrong with me?

  I swallow all this confusion down, paying special attention to the infusion of warmth deep in my belly, swirling and tempting, telling me to give in to the desire…

  But what desire?

  I don’t even know what this man looks like.

  “Hello,” I call out, as he moves up and down on the other side of the door. “I can hear you.”

  “That’s because I’m not trying to be quiet,” he snarls, in that gruff beastly voice that sets my spine tingling.

  Get it together, I scream at myself in my head.

  “It sounds like you’re pacing,” I murmur.

  “You must be a genius.” He laughs gruffly. “If you have to know, I’m deciding whether or not to send you back downstairs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve just looked through the peephole, and you really are Ruby McCarthy. Older than the photograph we’ve got on record, though.”

  “I’m nineteen.”

  I straighten up a little, knowing he’s looking at me now.

  But straightening up doesn’t do much when I’m only five foot three, my body leaning toward curvy rather than athletic or thin. And with my hair turned into a bird’s nest from the trek in the forest, I know I probably don’t look presentable, much less alluring in any way.

  Which is fine.

  I’m not here to be alluring.

  Jeez, really what has gotten into me?

  “Alright,” he grunts. “And I’m forty-three. There, we know each other’s ages. Doesn’t make this any less complicated, does it, Ruby?”

  A shiver moves through me when he says my name, as though it’s some sort of magic spell or something.
A shiver that makes me want to punch the door.

  He shouldn’t be making me feel this way.

  I’m all tingly with absolutely no reason.

  “Can you please just open the door?” I snap, fire flaring in my voice. “This is ridiculous. You can’t send me back. You know what my uncle will do to me.”

  “Yeah.” He pulls the door open, glaring at me with stark blue eyes. “And I also know what the fuck he’ll do to this city if he doesn’t get you back. He’s wild enough as it is.”

  I feel caught off guard as I stare up at him.

  He’s at least six and a half feet tall, broad, and muscled in a thick and capable-looking sort of way.

  He’s wearing sweatpants and a shirt with the arms cut off like he was about to do a workout before I arrived. His arms are thick, the muscles well-defined. His hair is steel, not gray like Uncle Aaron’s, but steel as though he’s chosen the color.

  And yet I can tell by looking into his square-jawed face this man would never dye his hair.

  If I thought this was just a voice thing, I’m dead wrong.

  My body tingles all over, surging up and down me, my most sensitive parts sizzling as I drink in the sight of him.

  “Well?” His lips twitch into a smirk. “You were just throwing a tantrum about not being allowed in. I open the door… and now you’re just going to stand there?”

  “I was not throwing a tantrum,” I murmur, finding it difficult to speak above a whisper.

  The crazy urge to reach out and grab his arm slams into me, but I force it down, the same way I’ll need to force down any other insane urges that rise up inside of me.

  “Whatever you want to call it,” he says, with that intoxicating infuriating smirk playing at his lips. “Come on, princess.”

  I take one step forward, shouldering my bag, and aim my finger at him. It’s not fair how badly he’s making me want him, every inch of me alight with sudden need.

  I’ve never felt anything like this before, so sudden, so compelling, as though he’s prodded something deep inside of me.

  “Don’t call me princess,” I snap.

  He chuckles, holding his hands up. “You’ve got some sass in you, haven’t you? I thought princesses were supposed to be dignified.”

  I find myself smiling at his joking tone, waves of heat surging through me, my whole body aching with the need to be touched by him.

  Insanely, my overactive writer’s mind throws up scenarios where we’re gathered around a dining table together, smiling at each other over a beautiful spread, with our children sitting all around us and waiting for the joy of the meal to begin.

  What the heck is wrong with me?

  I’ve only just met this man and now deep inside of me something is pulsing, whelming with need, as though I’ve been waiting to meet this man my whole life. It doesn’t make any sense.

  “Come on.” He waves a hand inside. When I just stand here, he shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

  He moves to close the door.

  I step forward, blocking the door, so close I can feel his body’s heat radiating from him. I feel it burning in my chest, which should be impossible but happens anyway, scorching through me and willing me to sink hungrily into his embrace.

  But if I did try to embrace him, surely he’d push me away.

  He’s tall and muscular and his hair is confident iron. His lips twitch into a smirk seemingly endless, but they’re nothing like my Uncle Aaron’s smirks. These are tinged with kindness…

  I think, I hope.

  Or maybe I’m seeing what I want to see.

  “I need your help,” I say. “I can’t go back to the estate. Uncle Aaron will… he’s never hit me before, he’s never hurt me, not physically. But I think he would if he felt like he had to. If he felt like he needed to teach me a lesson.”

  Rider’s smirk drops, a dark glint coming into his eyes. “Ruby, if that motherfucker tries to hurt you, I’ll beat him within an inch of his life before I turn him over to the cops. You have my word.”

  I tell myself the growling protectiveness in his voice comes from the fact he’s a cop, not from any intense feeling sizzling between us.

  But as I walk into his apartment and he closes the door behind me, I can’t stop myself from wishing he wanted me as badly as I want him.

  Even if it makes no freaking sense.

  Chapter Four

  Rider

  “The proper thing to do would be to take you to the precinct,” I tell her, struggling to stop my voice from trembling as my eyes move up and down her body.

  We’re sitting on my balcony, Ruby with her legs crossed, her shapely beautiful thick thighs pressed together. Everything about her is voluptuous and gorgeously curvy, stirring my mind to carnal thoughts of claiming her childbearing hips, of fucking my seed into her willing young body.

  Her eyes are a light green, her hair a deep shade of oak, cascading down to her shoulders in waves now that she’s freed it from the ponytail. Her breasts are large in her plain T-shirt, bulging alluringly, and her cheeks are kissed with a soft blush.

  She looks innocent and ready and mine, fucking mine most of all.

  I can’t believe how hot the fire flares inside of me, a deep-rooted beastly voice roaring at me to claim her, to claim every sizzling inch of her right fucking now.

  I can’t believe how deep the need goes, how quickly it’s taken root inside me.

  I always thought I’d know the woman of my dreams when I saw her.

  I just never expected her to be a goddamn mob princess.

  “What?” she says, shaking her head. “You can’t tell anybody I’m here. Dad was very clear about that before his death. He said there are Cartel contacts in the police. And Uncle Aaron is allied with the Cartel, isn’t he?”

  I nod. “I said the proper thing. But you’re right, it wouldn’t be smart. As much as it pains me to admit it, there are dirty cops on the force, the motherfuckers. I’ve sorted a few of them out myself, but some of them are sneaky, the cowards.”

  She swallows her pale throat shifting. She has the sort of skin that looks as though it would turn red if I grabbed her lustfully, shading under the pressure of my need.

  My cock stiffens at the thought of my handprint appearing on her ass after I grab her hard, squeezing down to elicit a shivering moan out of her.

  Or her breasts blooming crimson as I palm them, sucking hard on her nipples, making them pebble for me.

  I’m glad there’s a table between us because otherwise, she’d surely see how badly I need her.

  My cock is so hard it feels like it could erupt.

  “What do you mean sort them out?”

  “Not kill them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I say gruffly. “I’ve worked with internal affairs to clear out some of the rot. They get bad press, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve made it known that anybody who has a problem with me can make it known.”

  A shy smile plays at her lips as she reaches for her soda. I imagine turning her smile from shy to confident, drawing out the sassy side of her as I explore the voluptuous landscape of her perfect innocent body.

  Fuck.

  I need to calm down.

  I need to focus.

  But it’s damn-near impossible were my woman is concerned.

  Hell, I’m already thinking of her as my woman.

  “That sounds like a very good thing to do,” she murmurs. “Noble, I mean.”

  “Noble?” I chuckle despite myself, even if I normally try to keep myself neutral before I get to know somebody…

  Hell, I’ve got a reputation for being grim with everyone who isn’t Alex Garcia, my partner for the past decade.

  But something about this woman brings these new feelings out of me, the feeling that I don’t have to be such a grim bastard all the time.

  I can let myself go with her, something deep inside of me roars, more than I’ve ever been able to do before. I know it’s dangerous thinking and I need to pump the brakes, fast, but I
can’t seem to help myself as I smirk over at her.

  “I’ve been called many things in my life, Princess Ruby, but noble isn’t one of them.”

  “You know what I mean.” Her cheeks flush gorgeously. “I’m not used to people doing things the right way.”

  “Hey.” My smirk widens. “You didn’t correct me that time.”

  “Oh.” She giggles, and fuck I love that sound. “I guess that’s right. I was distracted.”

  “Either that or you like being called princess… princess.”

  “I’ll admit I like it coming from you…”

  She trails off and her mouth falls open, as though she’s stunned at what she’s just said. Hot flames burn through me at her admission, my seed roaring at me from deep inside that she feels the same.

  She wants to collapse against me as badly as I need to maul her.

  “Because you’re not a criminal,” she says quickly, making me wonder if I imagined the lust-filled tremors in her voice.

  “I’m definitely not,” I agree, my voice dull as I contemplate what just passed between us.

  Did I imagine the look that came into her eyes, just for a moment?

  It was filled with throbbing want and need, with the desire to be claimed by me.

  I wonder if there’s a pulsing deep inside of her too, the same way my body thrums hotly every damn moment I’m close to her.

  I try to remind myself of who she is.

  This could be a trick.

  Aaron could have sent her here to win my confidence and get some dirt on me.

  There’s no dirt he could use, but he doesn’t know that. The fact that his niece is in my apartment is bad enough. That means he could know my address.

  “Tell me how you got here,” I say. “And tell me how you know where I live.”

  She flinches at my sudden change in tone. The absurd desire to apologize to her rises up inside of me, but I push it down quickly.

  I need to remember who I am, what I am, a cop above all else.

  She nods and explains how she triggered the safe alarm, ran through the forest, hopped on a bus, and rode into the city. I stare at her in fascination, awed by her bravery, her confidence, the way she took her destiny into her own hands instead of waiting for someone else to fix it.