Page 38 of Pregnant By the Wrong Prince

He’d managed to derail her by turning her questions back on her, yet that had rebounded on him to a certain extent. He’d had no idea how long she’d wanted him, or that she’d felt so passionately about their night together.

You don’t know her as well as you thought, do you?

Perhaps he didn’t. Perhaps he was just as guilty as everyone else, treating her just like the innocent, pure Crown Princess rather than the sharp, intelligent, fiery woman she actually was. And shewasa woman, not a girl. A woman with her own needs and desires, as passionate and intense as he was...

He was supposed to be in control of himself. He wasn’t supposed to let his hunger off the chain, because that was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

But...she wanted to know him. She wanted to know what that night had meant to him, so maybe it was time to show her. Let her see the parts of himself that he kept hidden. Not everything, of course, because no one needed to see those. Just the ones that could be shared in the dark.

So, he reached for her, his hands lifting, his fingers sliding through the black silk of her hair. Drawing her close so very slowly, because he had to be slow. He had to be careful otherwise the sheer weight of his hunger would crush them both.

She was breathing fast, too, looking at him as though he was the only thing in her entire world. Her hands lifted to his chest, her palms pressing lightly against him, sending bolts of white lightning through him.

The sweetness of her scent surrounded him, making him feel hungry and lost and desperate.

Careful. Be careful.

Oh, he would. He’d let himself off the leash, but only a little. Just enough for her to get a taste, but no more.

‘Lia,’ he breathed.‘Princesa...mi princesa...’

Her hands slid up his chest and around his neck and she was coming up on her toes, her mouth finding his.

And he was lost.

His fingers closed into fists in her hair and he was kissing her hard and deep, as if the existence of the entire world depended on this kiss and that it would end if he stopped.

So he didn’t stop, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, desperate for the flavour he remembered from that night, a sweetness he couldn’t place though he’d spent all night searching for it. Honey or brown sugar or cinnamon, or some kind of heady combination of all three. She was delicious, every kind of good thing he’d ever tasted, and he couldn’t get enough.

She gave a soft moan, her body going pliant against his, her arms tightening around his neck. Her mouth was hungry on his, the sharp edge of her teeth against his lips.

Electricity shot through him.

The night they’d spent together she’d been an innocent, all sweetly hesitant and uncertain. And despite the need in him, he’d had to go carefully with her.

But there was nothing hesitant or uncertain about her now. She was as starved as he was and just as demanding, and it was obvious that careful wasn’t what she wanted.

Something in him snapped as her hands clawed open the buttons of his shirt and he broke the kiss, dragging that wretched hoodie up and over her head. Then he shoved down the sweatpants, too, dragged her down on to the soft silken rug in front of the fire and got her beneath him.

Her black hair spilled over the jewel-bright colours of the rug, her cheeks flushed, her eyes black with desire as they looked up into his.

‘Please, Rafael,’ she whispered, reaching for him. ‘Oh, please.’

She was pleading for him the way she had that night, holding nothing back, yet this time he could see it, her desire laid bare in her eyes.

It drove his own hunger to a sharp, bright point.

He had to be careful, so careful.

His hands shook as he pulled open his trousers before reaching down between her pale thighs, shoving aside the pretty lace of her knickers. Then, sliding his hands beneath the soft rounded curve of her bottom, he lifted her, positioning himself, before thrusting hard and deep, a groan escaping him as the intoxicating, slick heat of her sex gripped him tight.

She cried out, too, arching beneath him, her luscious mouthopening, red and swollen from his kiss. Her gaze was on his as he paused inside her, looking down at her, remembering that night, that moment when they were joined for the first time.

The memory swelled between them, filling the space, aching and hot and desperate.

Her face had been in darkness then, but he could see it now, lit by the fire, her skin rose and gold, flames reflected in her eyes. She looked at him as if he mattered, as if he was everything to her, and when she lifted her hand and touched his cheek, he felt something shift and turn inside him.

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