Page 124 of Princess of Pride
That one word could make me cave. “Is this because you don’t need to leave your castle now? You think you can keep me locked in it?”
“You’ve proven I can’t keep you locked anywhere.” He grins and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “Wes was shocked and impressed that you thought to toss your phone so we couldn’t track you.”
“Wes hates me.”
He shakes his head, and rests hishand back on my hip. “Wes hates change. It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t like you—an American invading the trio that has been his life for so many years.”
“You, him, and Rory?”
“Me, him, and Tessa. If it were up to Wes, we’d be moving back to London.”
“What about Rory?”
“Rory’s life has always been here, and it will remain so. The castle should be his. I don’t disagree with that. My mum wanted me to have it too, but mostly, she wanted it to stay in the family. Now it will. My life will be in America with you as it was planned. Spencer Securities will be ours and passed to our children.”
“Children? Plural?”
That cocky grin forms at the corner of his mouth again. “One of each of us would be nice.”
“What would you do with two golden princesses?”
The nostalgia on his face shows nothing but adoration. He has no idea what having a daughter would be like. I do. I was one. The poor girl wouldn’t be allowed to do anything. Lachlan would be more protective than my father was. She’d need me to knock him from his high horse.
Suddenly, I’m picturing Lachlan and me as parents with two children running around looking like mini versions of us. It’s not a bad vision.
“You’re imagining it too? Aren’t you?”
I blink the vision away and focus on my disheveled husband. A lock of his dark hair hangs over his eye. I brush it away and trace my finger down his cheek to his jawline.
“Want to make a baby with me?”
“Now?” He can’t be serious.
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Is this your romantic way of hinting you want sex?”Did he forget I’m on birth control—an injection that lasts three months? It was in the legal documents we signed.
“If I wanted sex, I’d lick your beautiful breasts and then your pussy. You’d fall apart for me, and I wouldn’t have to ask for a thing.”
So smug. But also correct. I glance at his arm. “I don’t think we should while you’re bleeding. You probably need stitches.”
“Again, not a no.”
“Lachlan.” I bug my eyes. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” He kisses the corner of my mouth and then my lips, his rich, dark taste like an aphrodisiac.
“Lachlan,” I protest weakly, my breath growing heavier.
He slides his hand under my blouse and cups my breasts, his thumbs grazing my nipples.
I moan and am about to protest again. “Make it fast,” comes out instead.
Lachlan yanks off my blouse and tosses it aside. He tugs down my bra, exposing my breasts and licks my nipples. I moan and lie back on the cool counter. My boots are torn off, then my jeans are pulled down and dropped onto the floor.
I can’t believe we’re doing this. He’s injured, bleeding, and we’re having sex on a kitchen counter. In a house where I was thrown in a basement and a man was killed. Maybe two. I don’t know what happened to the second guy. The fact that Lachlan is shot and wants me this badly says a lot about his desire for me. That was never our problem. The fact that his mouth on my nipple has me soaked in this situation should concern me. He sets my feet on the edge of the counter and lowers his face between my legs.
“I said fast,” I remind him until he licks my wet core.
