Page 38 of That Prince is Mine
“No, of course not…” He stopped and stared at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh my God.” Emma doubled over laughing, her hands pressed to her thighs. “Your face. Oh, that’s priceless.”
“That”—he wrapped his hands around her waist and hauled her against him—“was not very nice.”
“No, I guess it wasn’t.” She gripped his shoulders for balance. “But it was very, very funny.”
Michel swooped his head down and kissed her soundly on her smiling lips, pushing her back against an antique-style lamppost. When she rose to her toes and buried her fingers into his hair, he deepened the kiss like a man starved. The heady scent of jasmine lingered in her mouth. With a gasp, he drew away from her before he completely lost his head. He dropped his hands to his sides and fisted them to stop himself from grabbing her again.
He couldn’t believe he had let his control slip—kissing her in the middle of the street like that. For some reason, it made him want to laugh. The pedestrians didn’t seem to mind their public show of affection in the least. Most of them were involved in their own conversations as they walked past them. An older couple chuckled and smiled fondly at each other, as though remembering their younger selves.
“We should probably stop embarrassing your bodyguard,” Emma said with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Anyway, this is me.”
“Here?” he asked, not taking his eyes off her.
“My chariot awaits.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder to a white compact car behind her and fiddled with the strap of her purse. “So… I guess this is good night.”
“Yes. I guess so.” But he couldn’t make himself step away from her.
He wanted to kiss her again. It felt as though he might die if he didn’t kiss her. But he didn’t kiss women in the middle of the street. The dignity of the crown demanded he not make a spectacle of himself—at least not twice in one night.
But he wore no crown tonight. Prince Michel might not kiss women in public, but Michel Chevalier could kiss the hell out of Emma Yoon anywhere. He ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her face. She leaned into his touch.
“May I kiss you good night, Emma?” She looked lovely illuminated by the warm light of the streetlamp, and he tucked her hair behind her ear.
“But… isn’t Sophie watching?” She caught the bottom of her lip in her teeth.
“I don’t care.” He gently freed her lip with the pad of his thumb. “The whole damn street can watch if it means I can taste you again.”
Emma sucked in a sharp breath and swayed toward him. “God, you really are good at this.”
“What am I good at?” He traced the line of her jaw and smiled when she shivered. She felt this attraction between them as strongly as he did. There was no question that they would be compatible in bed—he grew instantly hard at the thought—but he couldn’t make love to her until he told her who he was.
“Being hot,” she said with a petulant pout. “It makes rational thought very difficult.”
Incredulous laughter huffed out of him. As the desire pushing against his skin became something warm and tender, he leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. Emma made it clear that she felt uncomfortable kissing in front of Sophie. He couldn’t coerce her to kiss him by… being hot… no matter how much he wanted her.
He gently pushed her hair away and kissed her on the temple, then brushed his lips down the side of her face and kissed her impossibly soft cheek. “Good night, Emma.”
“Good night, Michel.” She offered him a sweet smile. “And tell Sophie good night for me.”
“I will.” He hesitated for a second, unsure whether he was being too familiar. To hell with dating protocol. “Will you text me when you get to your house? I just want to know you got home safely.”
“I’ll also text you if my car breaks down in the middle of the road.” Her smile widened until her dimple appeared, and Michel questioned the wisdom of his decision not to kiss her again. “Maybe Sophie could come rescue me, all badass.”
“Don’t get stranded.” Before all his good intentions came to naught, Michel carefully turned Emma away from him and nudged her toward her car. “Get home safe. Text me.”
Michel was still watching Emma’s car disappear down the street when Sophie came to stand next to him.
Looking out onto the street, she crossed her arms over her chest and said with an approving nod, “I like her.”
“That’s only because she thinks you’re badass.” He arched his eyebrow at her.
“Don’t be jealous, my prince,” she deadpanned. “I promise to tone down my badassery when I’m around her.”
Michel scoffed with royal disdain but was secretly grateful for his friend’s promise. It would be hard enough capturing Emma’s heart in two months without her being distracted with a girl crush on Sophie. He shook his head at his own foolishness.
“Let us head back to the hotel, Captain Bellevue”—he grinned—“where you can rest your badassery for the evening.”
