Page 27 of Asking Fur Trouble

“Much like you.” Charov grabbed her hand as she withdrew it from the flower, his massive palm enveloping hers completely. His thumb traced her wrist, finding her pulse point. “Your heart is racing.”

“Can you blame me?” Bess met his gaze directly, surprising herself with her boldness. “I’m in an alien garden with a shifter prince. My heart hasn’t slowed down since I met you.”

His eyes darkened. “Neither has mine.” He moved impossibly closer, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “May I kiss you, Bess?”

Her breath caught. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

He didn’t hesitate. His mouth claimed hers with authority, his lips firm yet unexpectedly soft. Bess melted into him, her hands finding their way to his broad shoulders. The kiss deepened as his tongue sought entrance, which she eagerly granted. He tasted like the exotic fruit from dinner and something wild she couldn’t name.

Bess had been kissed before, but never like this—like she was being consumed, claimed, and worshipped all at once. When Charov finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, she felt dizzy with want.

“You taste like Earth sunshine,” he growled, his voice deeper than she’d heard before. One of his hands had tangled in her hair, the other gripped her waist possessively.

“Is that good?” Bess whispered, her lips still tingling.

“It’s addictive.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I should take you back to your suite before I forget I’m supposed to be a gentleman out here.”

They walked through the castle corridors in charged silence, his hand never leaving her waist. When they reached her bedroom door, Bess turned to face him, summoning courage she didn’t know she possessed.

“Would you like to come in?” The words tumbled out before she could second-guess herself.

Charov’s response was immediate. His pupils dilated, and a low growl escaped his throat. “Yes.” The single word contained a universe of hunger. He stepped closer, filling her personal space with his imposing presence. “Are you certain that’s what you want?”

Bess nodded, suddenly unable to form words as his scent—pine and musk and male—overwhelmed her senses.

“Say it,” he commanded softly, his breath hot on her neck. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you to come in,” Bess said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I want you, Charov.”

SEVENTEEN

The moment Bess’s suite door clicked shut behind them, Charov’s hands were on her, pressing her back against the cool stone wall as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Bess gasped into him, her fingers clutching the lapels of his suit jacket. His lips were demanding, his tongue sweeping past hers with a possessiveness that made her knees buckle. She had never been kissed like this—like he couldn’t get enough, like she was the only thing he had ever wanted. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, and she found herself gripping him tighter, her body arching into his as if it had a mind of its own.

“Charov,” she breathed when he finally broke the kiss, her voice shaky and her chest heaving. His name tasted like honey and heat on her tongue.

He didn’t respond, instead trailing his lips down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. She let out a whimper she didn’t know she was capable of, her hands sliding under his jacket to push it off his broad shoulders. He obligingly shrugged out of it, his hands never leaving her body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he growled against her throat, his voice rough with need. His hands slid down to her waist, gripping the fabric of her emerald dress. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she replied quickly, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “Please.”

One sharp tug and her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing there in nothing but her bra and panties. His eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze raking over her curves with a hunger that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the universe. She had never felt this way before—confident and wanted, utterly consumed by the way he looked at her.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his hands sliding up her hips, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive skin between her collarbones, and Bess gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way lower.

When his mouth closed over one lace-covered nipple, Bess let out a moan that echoed through the room. The heat of his tongue through the fabric was almost too much, and when he pulled the bra aside to replace the lace with his mouth, she nearly came undone. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he lavished attention on her breasts, switching between them with a skill that had her panting.

“Charov,” she gasped, her hands roaming over his shoulders, down his chest, desperate to feel more of him. She managed to undo the last button of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, revealing the defined muscles of his chest and abs. His skin was warm under her palms, every inch of him hard and perfect.

He straightened, catching her lips in another searing kiss as his hand slid down her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her panties. Her breath hitched as his fingers found her slick folds, teasing her with slow, deliberate strokes.

“You’re so ready for me,” he growled against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you want, Bess.”

“You,” she managed to say, her voice breathless. “I want you.”

His fingers pressed deeper, curling inside her, and Bess cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, his thumb circling her swollen clit as his fingers worked her with a rhythm that had her seeing stars. Her hips moved against his hand, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as pleasure coiled tight in her core.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let go, Bess.”

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