Page 64 of Princess

I’m still hot with embarrassment, but the nature of it is changing now. My heart is hammering with something other than annoyance as he pulls me even closer so that our bodies are only a few inches apart. He keeps his bad leg outstretched, so I assume he’s not hurting it too much in this position. “Well, I don’t know,” I admit. “I thought… I mean, I hoped… but you haven’t even tried.”

Just brilliant. Spoken with my typical eloquence.

Something is shuddering through him now, vibrating in the air between us. A bone-deep feeling he hasn’t put into words.

Afraid I’ve made a flop of this whole thing, I go on in a rush. “And I know you can’t do much with that leg. I mean, you can’t really fuck me or… but you could at least… act like you want to… like you want to…” I gulp.

“You really don’t know how much I want you?”

I’m starting to feel even sillier now, like I’ve had no good reason to be insecure. And that instinctive response makes me mad. “I only know what you tell me, and you tell me almost nothing! I’m not making things up here. All week, you’ve been acting like you’re a whole different person. Like nothing ever bothers you. Like you aren’t bossy and demanding and overprotective and feel responsible for everyone in the world. Like you’ve never even dreamed about having sex with me.”

“Of course I want to have sex with you. But, for one thing, I’m not playing around with an injury that could affect my ability to walk for the rest of my life.”

“I know that! I don’t want you to play around with it or do anything that will make it worse. But you’re acting like… like it’s easy. This week has been hard for me. I mean, I guess I just… I just got used to fucking you. And I don’t like going without. How do you think it makes me feel that it’s so hard for me but not for you?”

He stares for several seconds as if he needs time to process what I’ve said. Then he gives a soft huff that’s almost laughter. “Oh, princess, you don’t seem to understand that I’ve had years—years and years—of practice at holding myself back. Pretending I don’t want what I want.”

“W-what?”

He’s not flirting or trying to seduce me or teasing me out of my bad mood. He looks dead serious, so I have to believe he means what he says. “I spent years wanting you, knowing I could never have you. A week should be nothing compared to that. Even so, I’ve been miserable. I toss and turn half the night, dying to have you with me, to touch you in any way I can. But it’s not just my leg. We put our relationship on pause. There were real issues that were never resolved. I wasn’t going to assume anything about us until you were ready to talk to me. So I told myself to wait and let you come to me. I fell back into that lockdown limbo so I wouldn’t put any pressure on you. I was trying to… to be good.” He swallows and glances away briefly. “I’m sorry if I did it wrong. I thought you knew how much I’ve always wanted you. I mean, how could you not?”

I swallow hard, my mortification transforming into something different. Just as hot but not nearly so painful. “Oh.”

He gives me a little smile. “I want sex with you all the time. Every minute of the day. You never have to worry or question yourself about that.”

“Okay.” I feel better. So much better I want to melt in an entirely different way. “But next time if you want sex, maybe just say something. I feel weird always making the first moves, and you’ve got a mouth for a reason, you know.”

His gaze heats up. “I can think of other good uses for my mouth.”

My blood has started to throb in my veins. It’s ridiculous how quickly he can turn me on. It’s never made any sense to me. “Don’t get carried away, thinking about what you can do with your mouth. You can’t get in a good position for sex. Even on your back you’ll probably get too into it and end up tearing open your wound. I’m not going to risk it.”

He looks briefly annoyed—which is actually a relief since he hasn’t given me that impatient look for more than a week.

“I mean it,” I say, my voice breaking slightly as I continue. “You were shot. You almost didn’t make it. It’s enough for me to know you still want me. I’m not going to do anything to set you back in getting better.”

His mouth softens. He reaches out to take one of my hands. Holds it in both of his. “Fair enough. But I’ve also gothandsfor a reason. Are you doubting my ability to take care of you with just my hands?”

I gulp again. I’m throbbing all over now. “Well, maybe. If you think you can do it without hurting yourself. But you’ll have to get back on the bed so you can stretch out your leg. I’m serious about being careful. It won’t be any fun for me if you get hurt, so whatever you’re thinking of doing, you’ll have to lie still to do it.”

“Okay. I’ll get back in bed and lie still. You take off your clothes.”

I twitch with excitement. “What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

I’m so turned on that I can’t move for a moment. Instead, I watch as he scoots farther back into the bed, turns his body, and carefully extends his bad leg. When he clears his throat intentionally, I finally grab the bottom of my V-neck top and pull it off over my head.

Knowing he’s watching, I toe off my shoes, unhook my bra, and then pull down my jeans. Undressing like this makes me feel vulnerable but not in a bad way. It’s ridiculously exciting to feel so exposed while he’s still dressed and propped up on the pillows in bed.

“All of it,” he murmurs when I’m down to my panties. He’s still not putting on a show with the dominance. He’s not exaggerating the command in his voice in an attempt to sound sexier. He’s just matter-of-factly telling me what to do.

That’s what makes it so hot.

I shimmy out of my panties and then stand next to the bed completely naked. “How exactly are we going to manage this? Should I… should I get on the bed with you?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay.” I wait, hot as fire in my cheeks and my pussy and slightly chilled from the coolish air everywhere else. It’s a disorienting combination. I’m breathing in fast little pants.

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