Page 38 of Royal Hottie
I turn and laugh a little. “You startled me. My mind was blown in the master bedroom and I’ve been walking around in a trance ever since.”
“I’m glad you like it. You want to take a bath?”
“By myself?”
“If you like. Or we could do a soak after…”
I close the distance and wrap my arms around his neck. “You’re awfully accommodating. You should’ve had me under you the moment the door shut behind us.”
He slides a warm hand under my hair and cups the back of my neck. “I don’t want to rush. I want to savor you.”
I sigh. Is it any wonder I’m falling for him?
He dips his head, his lips sealing over mine, his arm banding around my waist, drawing me tight against him. The kiss slides from tender to hungry in a flash, the familiar urgency rushing through me as I strain to get closer, only this time I don’t have to stop. He doesn’t have to stop. He’s backing me up as he kisses me, until we get to the wall, and then he shoves my dress up to my waist and lifts me.Yes.This is so much better, everything lining up perfectly now. I wrap my arms and legs around him. He’s got one hand on my jaw, holding me in place for his devouring mouth, his other hand sliding down my throat, across my collarbone, cupping my breast and flicking across my hard nipple. I moan in the back of my throat.
He shifts, kissing his way across my jaw down the side of my neck. I want more, more of him, more skin. I unbutton his white dress shirt to find a white crew-neck undershirt. “Too many clothes,” I protest. “Get this stuff off.”
He kisses me, nipping my lower lip, before smiling against my mouth. “No rush, remember?”
I yank his shirt from the waistband of his pants. “You’re pissing me off.”
He smirks and sets me back on my feet. Then I watch as he peels off the dress shirt and undershirt and tosses them on the vanity table. My mouth goes dry at the male beauty, so much beauty. “I love your shoulders,” I blurt. “So wide and bulky with muscle.”
His lips curve up. “Thank you.”
A chime sounds and then a sharp rap at the door. My hand flies to my throat, my heart racing. “Is it the guards? Is something wrong?”
“Relax. I’m sure it’s just the champagne I ordered.”
He heads out toward the living room and opens the door, completely fine answering it shirtless. He’s whistling a moment later. I join him in the living room just as he turns and opens a cabinet, pressing a few buttons. Soft jazz plays through speakers I hadn’t noticed before.
He looks at me over his shoulder, a smile playing over his lips. “You seem a little jumpy, so I’m setting the scene for seduction.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He adjusts the volume on the music, raising it high. He says something to me, but I can’t make out the words over the music.
I cup a hand near my ear, heading toward him. “What?”
“Exactly!” He gestures to a marble table with the champagne and a gold box tied with brown and red ribbon.
“You got me a present?”
He wraps his arms around me from behind and whispers in my ear, “Chocolate truffles from the best chocolatier in Paris.”
I melt. He remembered I love chocolate truffles. We have spent a lot of time talking, getting to know each other. I put a hand to my stomach. “If only I wasn’t so stuffed from dinner.”
“It’ll be a good pick-me-up later when you’re worn out from my thorough fucking.”
My stomach drops, a low ache in my womb. It’s the first time he’s spoken crudely, and I like that it makes him feel more real and less perfect dream prince.
He brushes my hair to the side and kisses his way along my neck. I soften, all of my muscles warm and languid, desire unfurling within me. He gives my earlobe a tug with his teeth before whispering, “Music takes care of any noises you feel moved to make, the champagne is chilling, and the guards will remain posted on this end of the suite far from the master bedroom.”
I turn in his arms. “Won’t they hear the loud music and know it’s to cover our sex noises?”
“I told them we’re reciting French poetry,” he says with a straight face. “They were so disgusted they put in earplugs.”
I crack up, and he smiles. “Are they really wearing earplugs?” I know it’s a stretch, but I’d relax so much more if they were.
