Page 41 of Crowned for His Son

Of course he was.

Didn’t he only need to enter a room for her temperature to soar to insane levels?

His lips parted and she witnessed legions of emotions cross his face in a split second. Then that iron control was back in place.

‘Yes. Freely given,’ he elaborated hoarsely, ‘enthusiastically accepted. Thoroughly celebrated.’

Evocative images surged to life in her head.

‘Tell me about it…please,’ she whispered, ignoring the shrieking voice demanding to know what she was doing.

Again, his gaze raked her face. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘When was the last time you had one of those headaches?’ he bit out.

‘Not for a while. Please,’ she pleaded.

He planted his hands on either side of her head, caging her in. His body bore down closer too, and the steel pipe of his erection pressed against her belly as he breathed in deep.

‘Every nerve in my body tells me this is a bad idea…’

She waited, breathless with anticipation.

After a long moment, he exhaled. ‘You were headed to the table next to mine in the cigar lounge. You stopped in your tracks the first time you saw me,’ he rasped in her ear. ‘Your incredible eyes went wide and these luscious lips parted…’ He passed his thumb in a whisper-light brush over her lower lip. ‘A beautiful creature caught in headlights.’

‘And let me guess…you laughed?’

His digit continued to slide back and forth, weakening her with his sensual magic. ‘On the contrary. Your effect on me was equally acute, and troubling, and puzzling in the extreme.’

‘Why?’

He hesitated for a full second. ‘Because until that moment I’d never experienced anything like it.’

Her breath shuddered out. Common sense screamed at her that it was impossible. That this man, soon to exit his position as the most eligible bachelor in the world, surely would have experienced a raft of sexual experiences. But his unwavering stare insisted he meant it. Or maybe because she craved that crumb of possessive knowledge, she believed him.

‘Is that why you…hate me?’

He stiffened and his jaw clenched, but he didn’t move away. He only examined her face thoroughly, as if he yearned for some insight that she remained clueless about and he sought desperately.

After a moment, he exhaled. ‘I don’t hate you.’

‘Are you sure? Because my every instinct screams otherwise.’

He pinned her beneath his gaze for an eternity before he rasped, ‘Do you need me to prove it?’

She licked her lips, a sizzling craving piling into the mix of sensation flaying her. ‘Maybe…’ she hedged.

Because…heavens, she was much too weak where His Royal Hotness was concerned.

And because to him it might be a refresher, but to her it would be a first kiss. From a real man. The man she’d given her virginity to.

His fingers speared into the hair she’d ruffled, further dishevelling it as he used the pressure to tilt her head up. Then, taking the true answer she was too stubborn to provide, he slanted his mouth over hers.

Warm—no—hot. Supple. Electrifying. Possessive.

In an instant she was transported. Dizzy with need. Desperate formore. A helpless moan ripped from her soul as she surged towards the exhilarating sensation of being kissed by Crown Prince Azar Domene. And, oh, how he mastered the art.

A brief sweep of his tongue, tantalising and tempting hers to play, was deceptively coaxing, and the moment she parted her lips, ventured a taste of her own, he swooped, seizing control as effectively as his magic alone had kept her pinned against the wall.

The fingers in her hair merely supported her, so she didn’t crumple into an erotic mass at his feet. Then, as if he knew how weak she’d grown, his other hand grasped her hips, holding her as he ground his hips into hers, moulding their bodies together as his mouth and tongue and teeth drove her towards a fevered edge that left her utterly breathless.

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