Page 91 of Wicked Prince

They're dark and dangerous, cold and piercing, and it's always so easy to get lost in them. Hopelessly lost. I'm still contemplating my fatal mistake when his lips meet mine.

ChapterThirty-Five

AMELIA

It's not the first time I've found myself in this situation.

Lorenzo kissing me.

Knowing I should push him away and run as far as my legs will carry me, because there's no way in hell this is going anyplace good.

Ignoring the logical part of my mind that knows this and kissing him back anyway.

His hands pin mine against the wall as his tongue sweeps against my bottom lip, demanding entrance. And I give it to him. Because of course I do. Because that's just what happens when we're together—I lose my damn mind. I lose my resolve and my self-control and everything else that I used to think I could count on.

If for no other reason than that, I can't stay here. I can't keep letting myself get swept away in the fairy tale his silken tongue spins so fucking well.

For the moment, though, as my hands find his chest and claw greedily at his shirt, I know there's no point in trying to come down to reality. It might be a fairy tale, but with his lips on mine and the scent of his cologne making me dizzy, it feels real. He feels like the realest thing I've ever known, and I grasp onto him like a lifesaver in the middle of the churning ocean.

My lips part wider and allow his tongue to explore my mouth as his hands explore my body, tearing the towel off in one smooth tug. The moment his hands meet my bare flesh, cupping my breasts and kneading sensually, my body responds in kind. Heat flares within my core, like tendrils of fire unfurling within me.

I want him. I want this as much as I wanted him the last time, even if it damns me. I want it so bad it hurts, and when his lips break from mine, I actually whimper. Because I really am that pathetic.

He gives me a knowing look, and the fire burning within me is reflected in his gaze as he tears his own shirt off and starts unbuckling his belt. He can be smooth and gentle and sensual when he wants. I know that well, but he can be raw and passionate, too, and in this moment, that's what we both want.

What I need.

He's taking too long with the whole undressing thing, so I yank his slacks and boxers down. He snorts, but his amusement quickly turns to lust as I take his freed cock in my hand.

Fuck, he's big. I almost forgot just how big, and what it was like to take him for the first time. A bit of apprehension wells up within me alongside the lust, but it's seriously outweighed.

When he pushes me back against the mattress and climbs on top of me, I can't bring myself to care.

His lips crush mine once more as I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him just as eagerly in return. I want more, and I claw at his bare shoulders for it, demanding with my body what I can't find the words to. He's more than eager to oblige, and he grabs my hips, shifting me further down on the mattress until I can feel the crown of his stiff cock pressed against me.

Thick, warm, hard. I want it inside me now, even though my breath hitches when he finally presses the tip against my slick folds. I'm shamefully ready for him, and he barely even had to touch me, but when he gazes down at my naked body beneath him, the ravenous hunger in his gaze is all the approval I need.

"Fuck," he breathes, like he can't believe this is happening.

That makes two of us.

He acts like he thinks this is just a foregone conclusion. Like it was always just a matter of time before I wound up in his bed again, but now, I'm not so sure that's really how he feels—even if it is how it all worked out.

Even now, I should be putting on the brakes. I should see my chance to put an end to this before we both do something that can't be undone all over again.

But I don't. I squirm beneath him instead, opening myself for his invasion, and when he eases his cock into me, I want it faster. Harder.

Fortunately, I'm too breathless to humiliate myself by telling him so. The sight of him on top of me, gazing down at me like some Roman god who gets off on fucking mortals, is too much. Too perfect to be real. When he lowers himself again, pushing even further inside me, I touch his chest just to make sure he's really here. To make sure he's solid.

His muscular body is humming with strength, and I can feel the energy between us so intensely that it's almost tangible. I can taste it.

I wince a little as the penetration I'm desperate for starts to hurt a little. It's not much pain, but it's not like I've done this often, and it's not really all that much easier than it was the first time. I find myself dizzy with lust and disbelief, and it takes effort to remind myself to relax.

"Easy," he coaxes, running his fingertips down my side. He seems to take my desperation for nervousness, which is probably for the best.

His voice is raw and husky with approval. Strained with need and the pleasure that's beginning to set in for us both. It stirs the embers within me into a roaring flame once more, and I lose sight of the vague discomfort. It's soon overwhelmed by the lust, anyway.

Lorenzo's lips claim mine once more as he lowers his body fully onto mine, and I wrap my arms around him again to pull him even closer. Once he sheathes himself inside me, he goes still and we both stare at each other for a moment, out breathing hitched and our eyes locked.

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