Page 65 of That Prince is Mine
The music wove through her—the bass notes reverberating in her stomach—in slow, heart-wrenching waves. Tears welled in her eyes and flowed soundlessly down her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip and sucked in a shuddering breath, then exhaled quietly, not wanting to interrupt him. But Michel played on with his eyes closed, deeply immersed in the music.
His fingers hovered over the keys as the last notes faded away. When he finally looked at her, his eyebrows rose in alarm, and he reached out to wipe away her tears. She shook her head and brought his hands down between them.
“That was breathtaking.” She flashed a watery smile at him. “What is it called?”
“Prelude in E Minor.” His eyes flickered over her face as though to reassure himself that she was okay. “By Chopin.”
She squeezed his hand. “How long have you played the piano?”
“Since I was five.” He huffed a rueful laugh. “I’m grateful that my parents forced me to take lessons. Playing the piano is a great solace at times.”
“You play beautifully.” Her heart wrenched at another hint of his loneliness. She reached out and cupped his cheek, smoothing her thumb across his cheekbone. “I think you might be worth keeping around.”
“Is that so?” His lips quirked into a grin, as she’d hoped. “Well, I’d better practice every day to keep my skills sharp.”
“What else are you good at?” she asked coyly, her fingers tiptoeing up his thigh.
“I’m told I’m quite good at… many things.” His smile turned wolfish as he leaned close. “Should I demonstrate some of my skill set for you?”
“Only if you think I would find it interesting,” she breathed against his lips. His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine, and anticipation swelled low in her stomach.
As though sensing that she was dying for him to kiss her, Michel cruelly denied her and brushed his lips down her neck instead. She wanted to drag his lips to her mouth and kiss him until neither of them could breathe, but she moaned when his tongue found the indentation at the base of her throat.
“Do tell me if I bore you at any point,” he drawled.
“Actually, I’m a little bo—” Her breath hitched as he scraped his teeth over her collarbone.
She trembled and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. The only reason she wasn’t annoyed at his arrogance was because his voice wasn’t at all steady. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. He made his way back up the other side of her neck and dropped a lingering kiss just beneath her ear. Her back arched as another moan escaped her.
“God, Emma.” Michel’s control seemed to snap, and his mouth claimed hers with the desperation of a starving man.
Her triumphant smile was short-lived as his tongue delved inside and demanded her surrender. She gave in with a helpless whimper. His hands were hot and rough as they moved up her back, then down her sides before digging into her hips. With a growl of frustration, he lifted her onto the piano in a burst of discordant notes and stepped between her spread thighs.
She pulled his shirt free from his slacks and drove her hands up his torso. He shivered and groaned his approval as his mouth moved frantically against hers. Her palms and fingers traveled over the hard, rippling contours of his abs and chest, reveling in the hot, smooth feel of him. She returned his demanding kisses, growing hungrier by the minute. She wrapped her legs around his ass and tilted her hips to press her aching center against him.
He hissed against her lips, then ground himself against her, wrenching a sharp cry from her. Her hands crashed onto the keys as she sought purchase, and her back arched with a primal need to get closer to him. Her head fell back when he swerved his hips again and again. The delicious friction made her toes curl and her stomach tighten with desire.
“Michel,” she breathed.
With a muttered curse, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom with long, impatient strides. Nerves skittered through her stomach, but she wanted this. She wanted him. As soon as he set her down on her feet beside the bed, he crushed his lips against hers as though the brief separation had been unbearable. He found the zipper behind her dress and opened it in one rough tug, making her gasp. His shoulders heaved beneath her hands as he took a deep breath, then he stepped back from her.
He slowly pulled the dress down her body. The soft scrape of the fabric against her sensitive skin made her dig her teeth into her bottom lip as a shudder coursed through her. As though he couldn’t stop himself, he claimed another hard, searing kiss, then fell to his knees and helped her step out of the dress on her trembling legs.
He grew still in front of her as he wordlessly took in her body, his hands clenched by his sides. When he looked up at her face, the naked adoration in his expression made her feel powerful and seductive. She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, then tossed it to the side. His eyes darkened, turning almost completely black.
“You are so beautiful,” he said in an awed whisper.
He brushed his thumbs across the lower curve of her full, heavy breasts. Then he smoothed his unsteady hands down her sides until they rested on the curves of her waist. Holding her eyes, he dipped his fingers into her panties, drew them past her hips and down her thighs. Gently clasping one ankle and then the next, he removed the last barrier from her body.
He pressed his cheek against her navel, holding her by the hips. She ran her hand down the soft, thick waves of his hair, and his breath left him in a rough, jagged exhale.
“Are you okay?” she asked, tenderness filling her. He seemed as nervous as she felt. “You’re trembling.”
“I just need a moment.” He turned his head and spoke against her stomach, his lips brushing against her sensitive skin. “It’s been a while for me, and… and I don’t want to rush this. I want to take my time with you.”
“It’s been a long time for me, too.” She shivered at his words even as her body heated from the touch of his hands and lips. “I actually haven’t done this… that many times.”
Michel leaned back and looked up at her. She bit her lip, embarrassed by her confession—by her inexperience—and he carefully maneuvered her until she was perched on the edge of the bed. “Tell me, what is not that many times for you?”
