Author's Notes: Stay Safe! Stay Home! Stay Connected! Stay Strong!

When duty calls on him to act, Maxon doesn't hesitate to heed but America is demanding otherwise especially when she feels threatened by an old rival. With a rift between them how will Maxon and America heal an old wound?

This Bedtime Story was a suggestion by Guest reader who posted: "Can you write a story where America gets really mad at Maxon and leaves the palace to stay at her moms and Maxon goes to apologize and they have like. Hot. Hot sex."

Thank you for the suggestion, Guest reader, whoever you are! Here is your "Bedtime Stories" chapter!

WARNING!

For EROTIC sexual content. If this sort of material offends you, please go read something else. You have been WARNED! All others please continue on and...

I hope you enjoy!

~Sweetwaterspice

Maxon and America: Bedtime Stories

"Two Hearts, One Soul"

Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills my mind
I somehow find
You and I collide

~ Howie Day ~

~ Present Day

America

Do you know how many times a great idea has the probability of turning into your worst nightmare? You'd most likely agree the probability is almost near non-existent. Most great ideas are just that… GREAT! They have the potential to make things happen— further a cause, improve the lives of others, make one's country better or stoke one's ambitions and so on. The end results of great ideas is that they're supposed to make you feel happy and accomplished because you saw that snag in the system that needed smoothing, a chink in the armor that needed fixing. All your hard work and efforts are presumably directed for the greater good.

The reality of living life is that on the rare occasion and despite good intentions, anomalies happen— that one instance in time that deviates from what's standard or normal or expected. Anomalies come out of nowhere hitting you like a ton of bricks. And I, America Schreave wasn't immune.

I've tried not to feel angry and bitter and upset but I can't help the way I'm feeling right now. My mind is a whirl of thoughts that I'm desperately trying to control. My heart aches. My head hurts and I've gone through nearly an entire box of Kleenex! I yank another couple out of the box in my lap blowing my nose into the soft tissue.

"Oh sweetheart," consoles my mother with her motherly tone, placing her cup of tea on the saucer she's holding. We're sharing the couch in the comforts of her modern but cozy living room where I've been sulking all day. It's noon and I'm still dressed in my pj's— a set of cute shorts with a floral print of small white daisies against a yellow background and a solid yellow tank top with tiny lace edging on the shoulder bands and neck; a 'Just because I love you' gift from my little sister, May. I loved her Just Because gifts the best. My hair is loose having fallen from the messy bun I had haphazardly clipped this morning after another miserable sleepless night.

Setting the tea set on the low table mom regards me once again. "Try not to upset yourself anymore about it. I'm sure Maxon isn't having a good time."

"Mother! That is not helping me!"

"I know, I know, sweetheart. I'm sorry." She pats me on the arm. There's silence between us for a moment. "Would you like another cup of tea?" she offers.

'Because of course tea makes everything better!' I think sardonically. Yes, I'm being a prickly bitch right now but I can't care to give a crap about anything but my feelings at the moment.

When I don't respond my mother straightens her spine. She's been dealing with my cranky ass for the last four days. I catch the motion from the corner of my eye. When Magda Singer straightens her spine like a wooden broomstick it's a clear sign I'm about to get a lecture. I've known this woman since the day I was born and Magda has always been a pragmatic woman. Obstacles have never been a deterrent to the woman and she's avoided looking at life through the murky waters of feelings. I can sense I've exhausted my last bit of sympathy.

"America," she says my name stonily, "I'm not sure what else to say, darling. I think you are feeling sorry for yourself and have treated Maxon in a most despicable way."

I half turn on the couch, eyes bulging and arms jerking wide in disbelief. "How can you take his side on this! I'm your daughter!"

"And there's no changing that. I love you but it's time for you to stop all this sniveling and get over yourself."

"Get over myself?! How can you say that? Maxon disregarded my feelings completely and... and now he's out on a date with that bitch!"

"Language," my mother warns. "You may be Queen but you're still my child and I will not tolerate such language in my home or in my presence."

I grunt and cross my arms over my chest like I'm five years old.

Very diplomatically my mother says, "Maxon loves you and I know he'd never do anything on purpose to hurt your feelings. The circumstances are unfortunate, yes. But, he is King and he must do what is necessary when it is called upon him to act. It is his duty to support his country and his throne. You cannot fault him for supporting you!"

"If he supported me he wouldn't be on a date with another woman!"

My mother's brow crinkles which is her signature look that says you're acting like a complete idiot.

"America... It isn't quite a "date"", she makes air quotes with her fingers. "Anyone could've won the auction, dear. You and Maxon thought it was a great idea at the time and it was. I mean, who wouldn't want to win such an opportunity with the King himself? But with these silent auctions there's no predicting what will come of them once the dust settles."

I know she's right but I've been so irritated with myself and with Maxon that I can't see the forest for the trees.

"I can't stomach the fact that my husband has been spending the last two hours and is probably at this very moment sitting across a table from Kriss!" I let out an "ARRGH" of frustration. Just the thought alone makes me physically ill. "That bitch," I quickly apologize but forge ahead, "has had her eyes on Maxon since the Selection."

"And so did the other 33 participants, America."

"But she was the one that almost took him away from me!" I cry at the top of my voice. Mom reaches for my hand and squeezes it, reassuring me that she's here for me. The gentle touch of her hand calms me. I take a breath, trying to keep myself together before having another breakdown.

"There are things mom... that you don't know." I pause before continuing. "During the final weeks of The Selection Maxon was beginning to favor Kriss over me because I wouldn't commit. And all my goof ups didn't help. Kriss on the other hand was the perfect Elite. She had no issues with commitment to Maxon or to becoming a princess. She wanted to be whatever Maxon needed her to be and she made it quite clear to him that she loved him and would support him. After I botched things up between us, Maxon began spending more time with Kriss. I even saw them kiss once." The memory is like the stab of an ice pick in my chest. "I almost lost him, mom," I whisper. "I almost lost him to her and I'm… I'm afraid that she's going to somehow make him wonder if he'd made the right choice."

Mother doesn't hesitate. "Of course he made the right choice!" Her rebuttal to my nagging doubts is instant, which I appreciate. She smiles at me, tenderly cupping my face. "And Maxon knows with everything he is that he chose the best girl for him. The one that would make him happiest." I must be a sight with swollen and reddened eyes along with a nose like Rudolph's. "He worships the ground you walk on. Everyone sees it when he looks at you. You are his world. Trust his love for you, darling. Trust him."

Her words are sound and they appeal to my rational me but the fighter inside still wants to rip Maxon's head off!

"I'm trying."

"Love is a complicated thing, America. But it's what makes it wonderful too."

Kissing my forehead, mom takes the blanket from the arm of the couch draping it over my shoulders. It reminds me of how she'd do that when we were kids and feeling ill and needed just a bit of comfort. I thank her, snuggling into it, feeling warm but wishing for the warmth of Maxon's arms instead. My only selfish wish is that he were here with me right now.

Mom goes about gathering the tea service and I take one of the sofa cushions after she's left me alone giving it a few good punches before I rest my head down on it. I settle, lying on my side and tug the blanket up over my shoulders.

Dad's old recliner stares back at me from the other side of the room. It was the one piece of furniture from our old house back in Carolina that mom wouldn't part with. It was her most treasured tangible piece of dad that she had kept closest to her. I'm glad she kept it. I imagine him now, sitting there, filling that chair giving me words of wisdom. First, he'd validate my feelings although he wouldn't have agreed with me leaving my home and staying here. He would've wanted me to fix things with Maxon because running away never solved anything. Then because he's dad, he'd comfort me, advise me to consider Maxon's position and how much he knows Maxon loves me. Lastly, he'd probably joke that he'd break both of Maxon's legs if he ever cheated on me. At least that's what I'd hoped Shalom would jest to perk me up.

I turn on my back and stare up at the ceiling. The last few days have taken their emotional toll on me and before I realize darkness claims me.

~ Two Weeks Ago and Counting...

The Auction

"It has been an exciting evening hasn't it?!" Gavriel's voice booms over the microphone. As the Master of Ceremonies he is the perfect combo of glam and flash for my annual charity event. With plenty of food and drink to keep our guests happy and in the spirit of generous giving, everyone seemed to have been enjoying themselves which made me a very happy hostess. The crowd all dressed in fashionable black and white attire applaud. Excitement sweeps through the mass as each bidder anticipates the final results of the auction.

This year I wanted to mix things up a bit making the fundraiser something exciting and thrilling. Given the prizes to be won at this event, we knew we had the potential to raise millions which would help us provide much needed funds to our schools and resource centers.

I couldn't have imagined this amazing turn out when we extended invitations to some of the most influential business people, politicians, philanthropists, celebrities and citizens in Illéa. Most were able to join us tonight in support of our endeavors while others like our Italian friends, Nicoletta and Prince Rinaldi sent a generous donation ahead of tonight's event. Others were allowed to bid over the phone, not wishing to miss an opportunity such as this one.

The auction prizes ranged from a vacation to our private island, a private day-tour of the palace including a lavish lunch with the King and Queen, also a chauffeur driven tour to Napa's wine country in Maxon's Bugatti. From the coffers of the royal jewels and Queen Amberley's favorites I had offered (on loan for a special event) the choice of a ruby and diamond necklace or her blue sapphire and diamond tear drop earrings. And Maxon had joined in offering a personal tour of his stables and private lunch. Surprisingly my brother Kota extended his skills as an artist with a prize of an exclusive portrait painted by him.

The former Selected were of course included. My friends always came to my support offering their services for the "cause".

"A date with me is like a taste of paradise, America." Celeste mused making me laugh. "Of course you can count on me!"

Natalie offered two original pieces designed by Natalie Luca Designs. Her brand had become incredibly sought after and skyrocketed her to fame. Her boyfriend, famous musician Antonio Bocello offered a private lesson to one lucky auction winner. Elise, who was never one for high profiled events offered a cooking course in New Asian cuisine!

With all efforts combined there was an array of big and small auction prizes to be won. To keep things as fair as possible, each bidder was given a number for privacy purposes while bidding. We thought this would be a great way for people to have fun without feeling the pressure of who was bidding on a certain item or how much they wanted or could afford to bid.

"The King and Queen would like to express a hearty 'Thank you!' to everyone in attendance tonight," Gavriel's voice sounds over the crowd, "and for your extreme generosity. Now, to announce the winners I will surrender the stage to the event's auctioneer, Mr. Tellson."

Gavriel hands the microphone over to the auctioneer who summarizes the rules of the auction. "All bids have been registered and vetted by my esteemed associates," Mr. Tellson tells the audience. "If you are the winning bidder, please take your number to the long tables to my right to sign the appropriate documents to claim your prize."

Applause, excited yelps and congratulations filter through the crowd as each auction winner is announced as well as some looks and sighs of disappointment.

"For the next item, The Personal Tour of His Majesties stables with a private lunch with His Majesty— This one really had some highly fervent bidders," Mr. Tellson chuckles looking at the crowd over the rim of his wired spectacles. "The winning bid number is 421. Bidder 4-2-1. The winning bidder is via phone call and is said to be very excited they are the winner."

We all clap and Maxon who is standing next to me says in a low murmur, "I didn't see Phil Dawson here. I'm sure this was too good for him to pass. He's been trying to get an invitation out of me for over a year. Did we invite the bastard?"

"I had to Maxon." I confirm in a whisper. "We couldn't not invite him. He's been one of our great supporters. So what if he's in love with your horses?"

Maxon grumbles. I rest a calming hand on his forearm. "He's seen your stables before. There's no need to divulge your secrets is there?"

He seems to relax at that. "True. He'll just get more of an eyeful of what he wishes he had."

I fight back a smile. "That's the spirit."

Everything went off without a hitch. The event was a grand success. We surpassed our fundraising goal and people had a great time, thrilled at the prospects that they had secured such wonderful experiences and prizes. Monies would be allocated to public schools and to our resource centers for the fiscal year in support of the lower castes as we navigated the eventual but slow process of eliminating the castes for good.

Maxon and I couldn't have been happier until that is, the mother of atomic bombs is dropped in my lap.

~ The Day After the Auction

"WHAT?!" I snatch the paper out of Stavros's hand. The news I had just been given detonated in my head like a mushroom cloud. "That can't be right," I say, running my eyes over the page in my hand. I scan it again… again.. a third time. "How is this possible?" I frown at Stavros, confused, perplexed and then to Maxon, "How?!"

"I don't know." Maxon answers quietly. He looks as puzzled as I feel. My eyes follow him as he walks to the window overlooking the gardens. He stuffs his hands in his trouser pockets, regarding the cloudless blue skies of another lovely Angeles day and I'm not sure why that bothers me. He's all too calm while I feel as if I'm about to splinter into a thousand pieces.

Stavros no doubt noticing my despair answers, "I'm afraid it has been verified, my Queen. Miss Ambers is indeed the winner of the auction prize."

I look down at the now crumpled piece of paper in my hand. The name is there is plain black and white. In indelible ink. KRISS AMBERS.

My brain kicks into gear trying to scramble at some explanation, some way out of this... some loophole.

"There's obviously been some mistake. Fraud or collusion!" I'm near hysterics.

"I'm afraid not your Majesty. Mr. Tellson's company is the best there is in the business. They don't make errors. And every bidder is pre-checked."

"Well call him and have him check it again!" I shake the paper at Stavros. In my state of near panic I don't realize I've raised my voice indignantly to my husband's most trusted advisor. But I have a need for action, a need to lash out at someone.

"Stavros... Leave us." Maxon says his eyes still glued to the sunny day outdoors.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He inclines his head in Maxon's direction and then in mine and quickly makes his way to the door. Neither Maxon nor I move until we hear the door close behind us.

"I know you're upset, America," Maxon finally says, his face still turned from me. His posture is straight— shoulders squared, head forward.

"What are you going to do about this, Maxon?"

He takes a deep breath and turns, our eyes meeting. His demeanor is business-like and kingly. "We are going to do what we took an oath to do. Our duty."

"And what exactly are you proposing?" The words rush out of me in a single breath. "You can't really expect me to agree to this!" I slam the paper on top of his large polished mahogany desk.

"My expectations of you have always and forever will remain the same, America. Your duty to me and to the throne are foremost. You knew that when you married me."

At his condescending tone, I lash back, "Do not speak to me as if I'm one of your servants, Maxon! I am your wife! And you promised your loyalty to me!"

"And you have it, dammit!" I stiffen and can clearly see now that he's not as composed as I thought him to be. The façade he found necessary to keep in tact in the presence of his advisor is now gone. It's just us now and he can let his true feelings show. I love him for it and I immediately feel awful for going on the attack but I can't pretend to be okay with this. "That will never change. Ever. But we have to remember we are duty bound to the crown and to our people."

"Maxon, this isn't simply about mere duty. This is about us... between you and me. You know I'd rather walk through the fires of hell before I allow Kriss Ambers to come within arms reach of you!"

Maxon softens and he erases the gap between us to cradle me in his arms. With an immense sense of relief I fall into his embrace. I allow him hold me resting my head against his broad chest. His heart beats strong and in this moment I want it all to myself. I don't want to share it with anyone. To hell with duty! To hell to crown and country!

"I love you... my fire breathing dragon." I can feel his smile against the side of my head.

A little chuckle escapes me. I don't wish to find any amusement in the situation but Maxon's always had a way to cast a light on the direst of scenarios. Turning my face into his shirt I breathe in his scent so familiar to me now. My fingers curl around the fabric of his pressed shirt gathering it within my palms, holding on to him as if he's an illusion about to fade away.

My stomach roils. "I cant bear it," I confess, my words muffled against his chest. Kriss was still a sore spot for me and I knew she'd had a rough time getting over Maxon choosing me over her. And now she would have exclusive alone time with Maxon. With my husband. "The thought of you and her alone churns up so many bad memories. Please, Maxon. You don't need to go through with this."

"Darling, if there was a way..."

I push away from him, anger rearing its head like a green hulk. "Then I forbid it. I forbid it, Maxon!"

"America, don't make this more difficult for me than it already is."

"Difficult? For you?! You don't seem to be grappling with this at all! No... on the contrary, you seem to be quite resigned to perform your duty." I say the word "duty" with abject disdain.

"Because it is my duty to care for our people! It is my duty to do what needs to be done! I don't give a damn if it's Kriss Ambers or anybody else who stands in my way! Do you realize," he proceeds, "the damage this could cause to your foundation if we renege on a binding contract? The foundation could be ruined. We could find ourselves in a lawsuit for breaching a legal agreement and all the work that's gone into this grass roots movement will be lost in a legal, very public, very nasty mud slinging. Do you really want that?"

As his words sink in, "Of course not," I reply sheepishly.

"Well neither do I!" After a breath he adds, "People are depending on us, America. Thousands of our people. We are the leaders of this nation. We don't have the luxury of allowing our personal likes or dislikes to get in the way of progress."

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask exasperated. "Put on a happy face while my husband goes snogging around with his former fling?" I know I've gone too far by the expression on Maxon's face but the stubborn me refuses to cower.

Maxon's displeasure at my low blow is unmistakable. He points a finger. "I'm going to ignore you just said that because I realize you're upset."

"Upset doesn't even begin to quantify the fury I am feeling by your refusal to drop this asinine idea!"

He stares at me. "I've made my decision." Says the king.

We stand there staring at each other.

"It's final, America."

With a huff pouring over with frustration, I storm out of Maxon's office.

Kriss didn't waste any time cashing in on her winnings. Only a week following the auction was a date set for the private tour with Maxon and my anxiety level ratcheted to new heights. Despite Maxon's loving words, assurances and patience with me things grew tense between us.

I wasn't sleeping well as thoughts of Maxon and Kriss spending time together bounced in my head like over zealous rubber balls. Our sex life... oh, right. There hadn't been one since that day I demanded that he cancel the tour.

Maxon told me he'd made his decision, well, so had I. Not that withholding sex had been my plan but I'd been so ticked off at him I wasn't feeling it. This situation was like a big, black storm cloud hovering over our relationship and it filtered into our bedroom. I shot down every advance Maxon made towards me. He didn't push or demand his husbandly rights but I also knew I was playing dirty, using my gripe as an excuse to get my way but I didn't give a damn. If it was a weapon I could use, I would. That didn't go over well or earn me any points because it was all or nothing for me. I was going to get my way one way or the other.

Or so I thought.

Until the day everything went to hell.

~ The Day Everything Went to Hell

"I want Aspen on your security detail for the tour with Kriss." I had made the demand over breakfast as we ate in the privacy of our bedroom. I had thought and mulled over my request all night; a last ditch effort to get Maxon to break.

He stopped mid chew and proceeding to swallow, wiped his mouth with the white linen napkin setting it back down on his lap. Leaning back in his chair, jaw stiffened, Maxon inhaled a breath noticeably on the brink of annoyance.

My eyes didn't waver from him as my fingers tightened about the neck of my fork trying to keep my nerves at bay as I waited... and waited. With each ticking second my heartbeat pounded louder in my ears; his silence deafening.

Maxon's lips tilted into a smile I could only define as amused which only managed to irritate me further. The tension in the room already thick, doubled. The smile he harbored faded as hardened, stone-like eyes lifted to lock on to mine. The look in them made the contents in my stomach churn, threatening to make what was brewing to be an ugly scene even worse.

Crossed arms rested over his chest. "No."

The curt answer lit me on fire. "Why not? It's a simple request," I replied acidly.

"And the answer is still no."

"I don't understand why not. I'd feel much better if Aspen were there."

"Why America?" He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. Elbows now perched on the table he asked, "Give me one good reason why Aspen has to be there?"

I opened my mouth but not a word came forth. I couldn't voice the reason why. I was ashamed to let the thoughts form into actual words. My silence was enough for Maxon to finally blow his top.

"What?— You're thinking of using Aspen as your little spy?" he accused, his tone incredulous that I would consider such a thing. Eyes falling away with guilt and shame clearly burning my face I heard him huff, "That's what I thought."

Yes, it was a crappy suggestion but I was feeling desperate and although I knew the idea was as horrible as it sounded, I didn't care.

"What the hell, America?!" Maxon's eyes fired with fury, the look so intense it could've turned me to ash as he shot up from his chair. The patience he'd been so gracious in giving me the past week was not there now.

Regardless, I pressed on, "I'd feel much better if he were there."

"To do what?!... To check my hand? Is that his place now? I don't need a damn babysitter, America and I certainly don't need your ex-boyfriend to keep me in line!"

"That is not the point!" I cried out.

"That is exactly the point!" Maxon responded, his voice booming. "You trust Aspen but you won't trust me?!" Slapping his chest, "I am your husband. I am the one who vowed myself to you... not Aspen!" he reminded me. "I will not be disrespected and I will not be treated as if I'm some lecher who can't control his own dick!"

"Don't speak to me that way!"

"I will stop once you quit carrying on like a childish brat." The words burned in their scathing retort.

"You don't understand anything!" I shouted, pushing to my feet as well. Anger spiked from every one of my pores like the back of a prickly porcupine. "Can't you see I'm trying to protect our marriage? I don't want to give Kriss five minutes with you let alone an entire afternoon! She wants nothing more than to sink her claws in you again!" I stated matter-of-factly. "Why can't you see that?!" I added, slapping both hands down on the breakfast table. Silverware rattled against fine china plates as I vented my frustrations.

"She's going to take advantage of this situation. She's going to try to rekindle what you had back in The Selection when you two were hooking up and..."

He cuts me off, "I was not hooking up with Kriss," and with a pointed finger for emphasis, "and you damn well know that."

"Do I? I don't know! I saw you two kissing... and I'm sure it wasn't the only time!"

"Do you really want to go there, America?" his warning tone cautioned. "Do you want to drudge up shit that doesn't mean a goddamn thing anymore?"

"I have nothing to hide!"

"You did…" his lips curled back viciously, "...back then."

The words struck home. I felt my face heat. I knew he spoke about my relationship with Aspen. I had no right to cast stones when I had been an active participant in deceiving him. At least his relationship with Kriss had been out in the open while I had kept mine quite hidden— a secret that threatened to knock over the house of cards I had carefully constructed. My lies, my omissions were my own until that morning that Maxon, after his proposal, caught Aspen and me in an embrace much too intimate for strangers.

Maxon had chosen me. I had won The Selection. I was The One and I had again betrayed his trust. The hurt look in his eyes which quickly morphed into eyes of accusation and hatred bit into me like shards of glass. I would never forget it. To my great shame Kriss had seen it all, had a front row seat to my downfall and I knew right then that I had lost Maxon forever.

"I explained the situation to you..."

"I know it well, America. You begged for forgiveness, you begged for my trust and I've given it without reservations... Given Leger access to you knowing the history you two share. But you can't bring yourself to do the same. And you think me unfair? Heartless because I'm trying to do what I must? Kriss will be here for one afternoon, that's all. Leger is here every day as a reminder to me."

He had a point. Maxon had been gracious to Aspen although I knew most of that was due because of Maxon's love for me. Maxon could've used his power easily with one command to send Aspen far away because of me and yet he hadn't. Maxon was honorable and good. He'd trusted that whatever kindled between Aspen and me was a part of my past and was now dead, which it was. The reality remained that Aspen was a page in our history he couldn't erase. It would forever be there but he'd learned to move beyond it because he chose to focus on us. Why couldn't I reciprocate, swallow my pride and trust that Maxon would keep things professional; trust his judgment? He made difficult decisions all the time and this one was one of many. He wanted to be trusted to do the right thing— That he'd given thorough thought to a matter and wasn't throwing caution to the wind. He needed me of all people to have faith in him.

No matter how much I tried to see things Maxon's way, I couldn't bring myself to accept it. Something in me hated this lack of control. And I also knew Maxon hated being pushed. We were two people with different reasonings. He saw this as his obligation. I saw it as protecting what was mine.

"I can't stand here and tell you I'm okay. I can't be the Queen you need me to be right now, Maxon. I can't "

"I know you don't like this America. Trust me, I do, sweetheart," his voice is pleading. "But my advisors agree with me that my refusial can cause more damage than good. You know I'm no glutton for punishment and I don't relish seeing you upset... It kills me. But I will take a seat at the table, I will eat and have conversation with the Devil himself if it means we move ahead with our plans. That is our promise, America so that we can serve our people."

"I can't be that civil" I confessed. "I know you wish me to be but I can't. Not about this. I'm sorry," I lamented. "Maybe I do feel threatened. Maybe I am that weak and insecure but I know women. And I know how Kriss in particular operates. She feels it should be her in my place. She made no secrets of her feelings for you during The Selection. She's made no secret of it since. What of the damage this could do to our marriage?" I said, adding, "I feel so powerless."

"You're not powerless. Kriss has no power unless we give it to her."

"She doesn't need us to give it to her!" I lashed out. "She's been reaping it! Do you realize the fodder this has been for the gossips? They've been at it since word got out— like sharks with blood in the water. Have you heard what they've been saying? Royal Drama: The Jaded Lover Returns or how about this one, The King and the Runner-up— A Love Rekindled; Is there Trouble in Paradise for Queen America? Get the latest insider scoop! Those words are burned in my memory. And those were just yesterday's punchlines!"

"Ignore it."

Maxon was raised in this life. He'd been trained from a very young age to turn off the volume, so-to-speak, to mute the talking heads. It's all part of living in this high-profiled life.

But not me. I was a take charge-of-the-bull-by-the-horns kind of woman. I fought against the established ways and although being a royal had tamed my manners some, there was still the Singer fight zinging alive in my blood.

"Is that all you've got to say?! Ignore it?" I retort. "Well, I can't! I'm being made out to be the pansy queen whose allowing her husband to dally with his ex! I won't be made a fool of, Maxon!"

"For fuck's sake. What would you have me do? Censor every damn news outlet in Illéa to spare your feelings?"

"At least I have them!"

Maxon pinned me with a deadly stare. "I'm going to work." The conversation? Argument was over. He'd put a lid on it. Fury licked my insides as he walked past me, snatched his jacket off the bed and headed to the door. I wasn't done. How dare he walk out on me now? Like a child throwing a tantrum, having no further recourse, I pulled out my last card— my trump card.

"Well… well… I'm going to mother's!"

Maxon stopped with his hand on the door knob, his broad back rigidly set. I expected him to turn around, give me the riot act. But he didn't. He didn't spare me a look. Instead, his words were measured. "I have a long day ahead. I'll see you for dinner."

And he was gone.

Well, I didn't return for dinner that night or the following. I refused to take any of his calls or answer his text messages— One in particular in which he'd threatened to come over to mom's house, put me over his shoulder and carry my ass back home if I didn't answer.

Unfortunately for Maxon, he didn't have a BFF like Marlee who'd given me the heads up. By the time Maxon had arrived at mom's I had performed an incredible Houdini-like act and bolted my ass over to my sister's house. Of course, neither Kenna or I were spared a good tongue lashing from our mother. Upon my return I had been put on notice that if I ever again put her in the position of having to calm a near rabid son-in-law down, she'd disown me on the quick.

The days proved long. The nights even longer. I missed Maxon, missed my home but I couldn't be there or be around him until this thing with Kriss was over and done with. Then perhaps I'd be able to look into Maxon's eyes once again maybe with a little less resentment. Because I, although crowned queen and at his side had to accept the fact that he was the Sovereign of our country and led by example. As tough as this had been for me I couldn't choose for him which direction to go.

~ Back to the Present

The Singer Home

The soft voice of someone telling me to wake up makes my eyes flutter. I'd obviously dozed off on the couch after my conversation with mom.

"Wake up, sweetheart. It's me." Warm, gentle caresses run up and down my bare legs.

The deep voice of a male registers through my fogginess. Maxon.

I jerk up, the blanket I'd had draped over me having fallen off at some juncture while I slept, now laid in a pile of fabric on the wooden floor. I dig my knuckles into my eyes, blinking afterwards to gain focus. "Maxon?" I say, sounding like a frog.

"Hey baby," he greets me with a small smile and my heart takes off like a rocket, soaring with excitement. I can't help but gobble the sight of him up. It's been days since we've seen each other face to face. He's in a black polo and dark blue jeans and a pair of dark brown motorcycle boots. Sinfully gorgeous. His hair is a bit wind tossed which makes him look unforgivingly hot. My face warms as does the rest of my body. Then I recall why I'm here lying on this couch. And then I come back to myself.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Maxon looks at his bulky Rolex. "Almost 5:00 PM."

A series of thoughts run through my head in split seconds. Maxon's here. That means it's over. The date happened and it's now over. Mixed feelings flood me— First a wave of relief, then a thrill of gladness followed by the slow heat of anger. Taking in his appearance once more I feel my anger balloon. Why did he have to look so good for her?

His hand is on my knee and I smack it away. "What are you doing here?" I ask in an angry rush.

Maxon shifts towards me, resting his arm, the one I knocked off on the back of the couch. "I'm here for what's mine," he replies.

I frown. "Oh, really? And what might that be?"

We're sitting close enough so he reaches to brush a fingertip over the curve of my bare shoulder. My nipples instantly perk up, alerted by his presence and my body's covered in goose bumps. "You."

I hate that he has this sort of affect on me. My body riots against my will to ignore the sensations tormenting it. It wants to fall into his arms and devour him with a million kisses.

"Where's my mom?" I ask looking around, trying to distract myself from how feverish I'm starting to feel. Having him here, this close is wreaking all sorts of havoc with my mind, my damn ovaries. "Why did she..."

"I sent Magda away," he informs me. Adds, "For the weekend."

My head snaps in his direction. My mouth hangs in disbelief. "You… you.. sent my mother away?!"

He nonchalantly shrugs a shoulder. "She didn't seem too put out. Guess we have the place all to ourselves." He flashes an unapologetic grin.

I don't answer. The fact that he's managed to trap me annoys me to no end. I should've known better than to trust my own mother!

"In fact, your mother was quite happy to see me," he says as if reading my thoughts. "And I don't think she was the only one." I watch his eyes fall down to my chest and he grins wickedly at the pair of pointed nipples protruding through the thin fabric of my pajama tank top. Forgetting I was braless I gasp and cross my arms over my tits.

"Don't be a perv."

He bites down on his lower lip and it's so damn sexy my core ignites. I look away and turn my legs so now they're are out of reach, my feet flat on the floor. My back is ram rod straight but Maxon's not discouraged from my apparent cold-shouldered response and scoots closer to me. "Old habits die hard." I can smell the clean scent of him and it goes straight to my belly. He reaches over to brush aside the locks of hair resting on my shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" I cry, batting his hand away.

I can feel the intensity of his eyes on me. "America…" The way he says my name makes my heart squeeze, my limbs tingle. "Look at me."

"No," I squeak, hating how weak I sound. I'm barely holding it together.

"Would it make things better if I told you you were the only thing on my mind the entire time?" His voice is like caramel, smooth and creamy. I love caramel.

Of course his admission makes my heart leap but I stamp the rebellious organ down. When I don't reply he continues, "I couldn't wait to get back to you. I've missed you, babe." He plants a kiss on my shoulder and I abruptly move over even though I'm now wedged between the arm of the couch and Maxon's body.

My mind swirls with a myriad of questions but the first one I blurt out, "Was there any physical contact?" I had to know.

"None."

"Not even a handshake?"

"I'm the king. No handshakes allowed." I knew that but needed to be certain. "Security detail went through the entire list of protocols before we began the tour."

"Good to know," comes the snark remark.

"Sweetheart, I know this wasn't easy for you..." he says, running an open hand over my back. I don't stop him because my body revels in his touch, practically humming with need. I swallow back the sensations I'm feeling; so much desire and lust flooding through me. It's been nearly two weeks since we've had sex and he's pushing me closer to the breaking point. "I want you to know everything before what's next."

"And what's next?"

"Us," he whispers in my ear. I close my eyes against the want in his words. "Getting back to us." He leans in with a ghost of a kiss against the pulse of my throat. I nearly leap from the couch but his arms clamp like vises around my waist preventing any escape.

"Let me go, Maxon. Whatever you think is going to happen, isn't."

"Oh, it's happening." His self-assured cockiness grates me but everything between my legs is summersaulting.

Maxon proceeds to give me the run down on the time he'd spent with Kriss. I'm tense but can't help greedily absorb every word. He mentions how he'd let her know right off-the-bat that due to the nature of their previous relationship he only asked to keep things courteous between them. It had been uncomfortable seeing the hurt look still lingering in Kriss's eyes, he says. He could see there was much she wanted to say but refrained. She'd managed well enough during the tour until they sat down for lunch. She couldn't hold back any longer and told him she wasn't here to cause problems but needed closure since he'd rebuffed any of her previous attempts to communicate with him.

"I listened. Patiently," he tells me. "Let her spill everything she'd had bottled up since The Selection ended. I appreciated her candor. When she asked me why I hadn't chosen her I told her, "There had never been another choice for me, Kriss. It had always been America." He pauses and I look at him.

Maxon looks me in the eyes as he speaks. "She asked me if I still felt I'd made the right choice. I told her, 'Yes'. And that I would have regretted it the second had I chosen otherwise."

My heart burns with love for him but I also felt protective of him having to defend his decision which in my case I realized, proved to be a double-edged sword in the end. I couldn't damn him and laud him. What I should've been willing to do was trust him.

"I belong to you, America." He takes my hand, places it on his chest. "My heart. My love." And then gliding south, "My cock." He's holding my hand over his bulging erection and my face flares up. He is rock, solid, hard. "Every part of me is only and forever will be… yours."

The last thread of my composure snaps.

In an instant I'm in Maxon's arms, straddling him and we're kissing. The kiss is so intense it feels as if our life's source is transferring from one to the other— all consuming, all giving. Maxon has a hand on my bottom the other hooked around the back of my neck, holding me to the kiss as he dives into my mouth repeatedly with an edge of desperation. I whimper against his mouth which makes him squeeze my ass harder, digging his fingers into my flesh. Anchoring his hands on my hips he brings me down on him. His erection rubs against the thin material of my tiny shorts and he feels amazing.

"Oh fuck," he growls as I grind against his very stiff, very large erection.

My mouth is on his neck, kissing and nibbling his throat as my hands snake up his abs under his polo. He sits back, giving me ownership of his body and I love it. He helps me with his shirt, lifting it over his head and it disappears behind the couch. My hands map his torso while my tongue glides over the span of his chest from one nipple to the other, sucking on both dark points. Maxon's hand is twisted in my hair. When he tugs it delicious ripples skitter down my spine. He bites at my swollen nipples through my top. I think I nearly die. I crash my mouth over his wanting to taste him, feeling drugged on him. Against my mouth he says as if he's in pain, "I need to be inside you. Right now."

We move as if our clothes have caught on fire. I lose my little daisy pj shorts, Maxon yanks his boots off, tossing them with a thud. I wait, watching as he makes quick work of his belt, unbuckling it. He pulls on the zipper then raises his hips just enough to push his jeans down. Then, they're gone. Every move has me mesmerized. I marvel at the size of his flagrantly aroused cock, his black boxers tented high which to be honest, thrills me and I catch a slight twitch. Maxon wastes no time ridding himself of those boxers, setting free that beautiful silken cock, swollen and perfectly rigid for me.

Reaching for me I straddle him once more. With my hand diving between my legs I cup his heavy balls. I think we both moan. Wrapping my hand around his girth I secure him firmly giving him one good fist pump before I tease his tip already beaded with his arousal against my own, gliding the smooth head between the folds of my very slippery pussy.

"Fuck. Fuck… fuck," he groans. His face is beautiful in its anguish. I cup his strong jaw with my free hand, bring my lips to his mouth and against it I swallow his tortured growl as I sink down on him. Maxon raises his hips into me. He stretches me deliciously, the tightness of my body accommodating him as he fills me whole. It's heaven being so full and neither of us wastes another second moving our bodies in time with each other. I can't help being swept away in this blind rush of lust, riding Maxon like I can't get enough of him. Maxon raises my hips and pushes them down flush against him. He tugs on my ass in a back and forth motion making me grind against him. The delicious friction makes my clit spasm. He lets me do as I please, taking what I want, how much I want, how deep I need. My greedy body seeks to quench this desperation from abstinence. My orgasm is immediate and I cry out— my hands finding purchase against the back of the couch to keep myself from disintegration.

I'm quaking in Maxon's arms in the throes of my orgasm. When I open my eyes I'm topless, Maxon's face bracketed between my breasts. Both mounds are in his hands, in his mouth and I can't remember when I lost my top. Euphoria floods every part of me from head to toe. I'm in a haze; so lost I've shut the world completely out. Maxon clamps a hand behind my neck making me curl into his hot body. My forehead rests on that area between his neck and shoulder and he's taken over, his hips pounding into me. My cries are muffled against the hard muscles of his shoulder and I'm definitely glad we're all alone.

My body begs for more. I switch positions giving Maxon a thrill as I ride him reverse cowgirl. Bracing my hands on his muscular thighs my legs work like two eager springs. The position affords deeper penetration at a completely different angle and oh, god it's sooo good that I throw my head back in blinding bliss . He gives me an extra impetus of encouragement when his finger presses down on my clit, he then pinches it which sets me off into a second orgasm. I cry out. Loudly. Damn this man knows just how to touch me.

After my second orgasm washes over, Maxon makes a request and we move. I'm on my hands and knees on the couch and he is nestled behind me. The feel of his manly thighs against me makes me writhe and quiver. His body encapsulates me as he leans forward, his chest hovering against my back and we kiss. It's such an intimate, vulnerable position for me but it's my favorite. I'm trembling as he tracks kisses down my spine, his large hand caressing my breasts, my back, my ass. The coarse hair of his pelvis brush against the tender skin of my tush and I tell him, "Hurry."

He chuckles with arrogance which makes me hotter. But obliging me he pushes the blunt end of his cock at my entrance and penetrates. My head drops between my arms in pure ecstasy and surrender. And all I feel is Maxon... only Maxon everywhere as he takes me; as I give him pleasure in return. He calls me beautiful and tells me he loves me repeatedly. Then the words are no more. He's lost in his own desideratum for pleasure which is fine by me. I've always loved how he finds such enjoyment and fulfillment in my body.

Suddenly but not unexpectedly, Maxon's tempo changes— Harder. Deliberate. Demanding. Clashing, striking sounds echo from behind me as his body makes contact with mine. His hands secure the spaces between my shoulders holding me in place, steady. He's so damn deep inside of me. I don't hold back voicing my pleasure. It's all part of a the sexual cocktail that makes lovemaking so explosive, so satisfying. He gives a loud growl coupled with a few expletives and grabs my hips as he at last unleashes his pent up release into me taking me along with him. He holds my ass flush to his front as his climax rips through him until his delivery is complete.

Finally, he collapses over me as we both sink into the couch. Sweaty and satiated, we kiss tenderly.

We settle on the couch, my back to his chest. Strong arms encircle me, pulling me closer. "Fantastic," he whispers with a rush against my ear. I can still feel his heart beating, smell the heady scent of male exertion and I want to bathe in it. "That was the best make-up sex we've ever had."

I laugh and catch that wicked grin of his when I look over my shoulder.

"I'm thinking maybe we should do battle more often," he says, lips feathering my neck. My body instantly comes back to life.

"As long as no third-parties are involved, I'm game."

"So quick to accept the challenge are we?" he asks. His voice is low and husky.

"Need I remind you, I don't scare easily," I reply, saucily.

Maxon's voice rumbles in my ear, like a dangerous big cat purring. "Don't forget you haven't yet reaped all that you've sown, sweetheart."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You've been a very naughty girl."

"Oh… you mean..."

"Precisely."

I recall the last text Maxon had sent me after I ran off to Kenna's house.

Maxon: I'm a patient man, America. I'll give you the space you need but trust my words, wife... Once this is over your sweet ass is all mine. Naughty girls deserve to be punished.

My heart thumps.

"I say we go upstairs and I'll remind you I'm a man of my words."

And that's exactly what he does.

The entire weekend.

EPILOGUE

~ Maxon

When you're rich, have power and a shit load of connections, there's not much on this planet that's unavailable to you. I'd put all of my resources to good use and as it turns out there had been a schemer behind the scenes of the auction. A player with big bank that made sure Kriss would win. Although Kriss didn't divulge how she'd managed to win the auction I knew there was no way she had the sort of money to bid against big whales like Phil Dawson. She'd only said she'd been sponsored. I let sleeping dogs lie but I was a bigger dog who wasn't ready to let go of this bone.

It took a couple of weeks but I finally got my answer.

"Your Majesty— The call you requested is on hold."

"Thank you, Stavros. You may leave."

Alone and ready to lay down the gauntlet, I turn to my desk staring at the blinking red light. I pick up the receiver and push the button to connect the call.

"Are you there?" I say without the pretense of cordiality.

There's no response but I know I have a listening ear.

"I'm only going to say this once. Stay the fuck out of my marriage."

The lilt of feminine laughter comes through. "Tsk, tsk. Is that any way to speak to an old friend, Maxon?" My name on her tongue raises the hairs along my spine like the hackles of an angry dog which is exactly the way I feel.

I disregard her comment. "I'm not the person you remember me to be, Daphne. Be forewarned— You pull shit like that again, I'll make your existence extremely difficult."

"Why Maxon... I'd never imagine you to spurn a noble deed. I was only being a Good Samaritan. The girl was a blubbering wreck. I only gave her the opportunity you wouldn't."

"That was none of your damn concern."

"Au contraire. I know exactly how Kriss feels. Being discarded as nothing more than yesterday's news... as you did with me. Don't you remember?"

"Keep your distance, Daphne or there will be hell to pay."

I didn't wait for a response, slamming the receiver home.

Daphne had been my one and only true friend before the start of The selection. She had begged me not go through with it hoping we could marry instead and form an alliance between our countries. And even though she'd told me she loved me, I didn't love Daphne. I couldn't marry someone I didn't love. She took exception to my decision and returned to France leaving things unsettled between us.

I'd proceeded with the selection and found my soul mate. I have no regrets. America and I were two hearts but one soul. And that's what we were.

The door to my office opens.

"Are your ready to go on our outing?" My smile widens at America's voice. I shove aside my conversation with Daphne watching the woman I love head towards me.

"Calendar's all clear and I'm all yours", I gesture with wide open arms as she walks into them.

Her hands lock at the small of my back. Eyes sparkling as blue as the sky she says, "Good. Because I've found the perfect spot for a very romantic picnic. And I've got your favorite... Mom's buttercream icing." The mischief in her words is unmistakable.

"Hmmm... I wonder what your mom would think if she knew just what you were planning on frosting."

America scrunches her face. "Can we please keep my mother out of this?"

I throw my head back in laughter.

"That is our little secret. And depending on how good of a boy you are, I'll let you lick some of that yumminess off of me," she waggles her brows. My dick swells.

"How the hell did I get this damn lucky?"

"You chose the perfect girl."

"Hell yes, I did," I grin bringing my lips to hers.

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