Page 67 of Royal Charmer
“Yes.” I set my stuff on the long bathroom counter and turn. Luckily, he’s moved right behind me, so I’m not trying to find him through a blur. He takes my hand and guides me back, closer to the shower. “So I was trying to imagine what position…” I trail off as my sleep shorts are suddenly around my ankles.
Lucas is on his knees in front of me and helps me step out of them. “I knew you were imagining dirty things. I love that about you.” He leans forward and kisses me through my panties. I’m instantly wet. “Sweet Alice,” he murmurs in approval, pressing another hot kiss against me before hooking his fingers in the sides of the silky fabric and sliding them off.
My breath hitches as his hand slowly slides up my inner thigh, his lips following in a tingling path. His fingers part me, and then his tongue drags across me. “Lucas,” I moan, my hips arching, my fingers tangling in his hair. Nothing is better than Lucas’s mouth on me.
His powerful hands clamp on my hips, holding me in place and supporting my weak knees at the same time as he claims me with his hungry mouth. I surrender to the fiery pleasure, my head dropping back, my eyes closing. It’s exquisite sensual torture, locked in his hold, the fire of Lucas consuming me, pushing me closer and closer to the brink. My breath comes in short pants, my insides coiling tight and hot.
A harsh cry rips from my throat as an explosion of pleasure rocks through my core, sending shockwaves of sensation through my entire body. He stays with me, drawing it out until I go limp.
He rises to his feet and kisses me tenderly. His voice is rough as his hands cup my breasts, caressing them. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy.”
I smile, stroking his soft beard. “You are a wonderful man.” I’m dopey with endorphins, loose and languid.
He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, his eyes intent on mine. “Shower time,” he says hoarsely, pulling me into the shower stall and shutting the glass door behind us.
“So how’s this going to work?” I ask.
“Very well,” he says with a devilish smile before pinning me against the wall and kissing me breathless. I slide my hands over his slick skin as the water runs over him, loving the play of muscle in his back. He shifts, kissing along the line of my jaw, then over to my neck, all while his hands roam from my breasts straight down to pleasure central. I gasp as his fingers thrust inside me. His mouth covers mine in a demanding kiss. I clutch his shoulders, weak and drugged by desire. And then his fingers shift to exactly where I need him, moving in slow, lazy circles. I arch into his hand, my soft cries swallowed by his mouth as the pressure builds inside me.
I tremble, I ache, I need.
And then I’m right there, teetering on the edge. “Lucas,” I gasp.
His voice is gruff in my ear. “Not yet.”
He lifts me before I have my wits about me, his tongue thrusting in my mouth as he thrusts deep inside me, taking me to the hilt, the ache suddenly filled. I scramble to wrap my arms and legs around him as he drives into me fiercely, claiming me, possessing me. I kiss him back passionately. He is mine. In this moment, he is mine. Suddenly I’m there on the edge of release, my body tightening around him.
He lifts his head, holding my jaw, his blue-green eyes burning into mine, the intensity ratcheting up.
My breath comes in short gasps. “Lucas,” I beg.
He holds my jaw, keeping my gaze locked on his as he pumps hard and deep. My release slams into me, my hips bucking wildly, and then he’s right there with me. His groan is low and guttural, his grip on my hips tight as he lets go, sagging against me.
His forehead touches mine, his hand holding my face, his voice gravelly. “Say you’re mine, Alice.”
I close my eyes. “Lucas.” He hasn’t said he loves me since that one time. He doesn’t have to. I feel it; he feels it back. It’s just that he wants more than that. He wants forever. It’s still too soon for me. I open my eyes. “I’m not ready.”
His jaw tightens, and he lifts me off him, shifts me under the spray, and strokes my hair back, soaking it. He takes care with me even when he’s not entirely happy with me. I wish I could speed up time, fast-forward to a healed heart ready to open again fully, but it’s impossible. I feel deeply. I heal slowly.
His touch is knowing, commanding even, reminding me he’s claimed me. He washes my hair and then my body, turning me this way and that in the spray. His expression is serious, his eyes betraying a softness I know is hurt.
“Lucas, I’m sorry.”
He kisses me and then nips my lower lip. “No. I don’t want you sorry. I said I would wait for you to be ready, and I’m being impatient.”
I grab the soap and wash his chest. “I’ll miss you when I’m in London tomorrow.”
He smiles. “You’ll be back the next day. You can’t take twenty-four hours without me?”
“Are you sure you can’t come with me?”
“I told you I have some business to attend to.”
I stick my lower lip out in a pout. “On a Sunday?”
“When you’re a prince, doors open any day I say.”
“I suppose that’s true.” And it’s what gives him that edge of authority, the purview of royalty. It is hot. I wash him some more and rinse his front. He gives me his back, so I do that next. “Are you shopping?”
