Page 83 of That Prince is Mine
Heart pounding, he dusted his hands off and clasped them in front of him. Long minutes passed without any sign of Emma, and he began to pace, wondering if a phone call might’ve been wiser. When she finally stepped through the french doors with a thick cardigan over her long nightgown, he reached her in three hurried strides and pulled her into his arms. Home. His heart belonged to her, and no place on earth would ever feel like home again without her by his side.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too.” Her voice was thick with tears.
“Please don’t cry, darling Emma.” He leaned back to wipe her damp cheeks with his thumbs. Her tears gutted him, especially since he’d caused them. He never wanted to make her cry again. “I can’t bear it.”
“Okay. I’ll stop.” She sniffed and offered him a wobbly smile. “See? No more crying.”
New tears seeped out of the corners of her eyes, and he caught them with his lips and tongue. Her breath caught, and he tried to step back with his heart in a vise, thinking she wasn’t ready to be touched like that. But she buried her fingers in his hair and rose on her tiptoes to press her soft, sweet lips against his. With a broken groan, he plundered her mouth with desperate, hungry kisses. He should slow down. This wasn’t why he came.
But he dragged her to the side of the house and pushed her up against the rough, cold wall, kissing and licking his way down the side of her neck. Her back arched off the wall, and his fingers gripped the soft flesh of her hips. He wanted to look at her face—to make sure she wanted this, too—but even the moon didn’t cast its light into the dark alcove. He held on to his control by a single, shredded string and dropped featherlight kisses along her jaw and on her cheeks. He hoped she needed him as much as he needed her but gave her time to pull away.
When her mouth captured his with hunger to match his own, the last of his control snapped. Something flickered at the back of his mind. He tasted desperation mingled with desire in her kiss… like she was trying to forget something. But she raked her fingernails down his scalp, and rational thought became impossible. He hiked her leg around his waist and ground his hard length against her core. Pushing aside her nightgown, he ran his hand up her thigh.
“Fuck. Are you not—” He swept his hand over her bare arse. “Fuck.”
“You already said that.” Her voice was husky and dark as she unbuckled his belt and reached for his aching erection. “Panties are a nuisance.”
“When—”
“I slipped them off before I ran down to meet you.” She took his hand and slipped it between their bodies. He groaned when his fingers slid into her hot, wet folds. She was ready for him. “Any more questions, or are you going to fuck me?”
His eyes nearly rolled back in his head as lust singed through him. He gritted through his clenched teeth, “Condom.”
“I’m on birth control.” She pulled him free from his boxer briefs.
“And I’m…” He couldn’t find the words to explain his regular blood test results as he prepared to bury himself inside her. “You’re safe. I would never hurt you.”
“Me…” She gasped and wrapped her other leg around his waist. “… too.”
Unable to hold back a moment longer, he plunged inside her with a low groan. He hiked her up higher and pressed her back into the wall—pulling himself in and out of her tight warmth with rough, jerky movements. When she cried out, he covered her mouth with his hand, unable to stop pounding into her even for a moment. She bit down into the side of his hand to muffle her next scream, and he didn’t even feel it. All he felt was her, riding him like a wild goddess, as pressure built at his spine.
“I need you to come for me, sweetheart,” he growled.
He ducked his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth through her thin nightgown. Their hips bucked and slammed into each other, desperately seeking the sweet crest of release. When her back arched and a strangled cry tore from her throat, he rammed into her once, then twice as his climax claimed him.
For a while, there was no sound except for the harsh rasp of their panting breaths. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, and he could make out her wide gaze holding his. The hint of sadness in her expression made his stomach clench. It was just a foolish argument. They had to be all right. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and lowered her to the ground. He barely finished zipping up his pants when her knees buckled, and he scooped her up into his arms and strode over to a sitting area beneath a small pergola.
He settled her on an Adirondack chair in front of an unlit firepit and sat down on its twin. She shivered, and he automatically went to remove his jacket but realized that he’d left it at the hotel. He didn’t want to leave her yet, but he forced himself to say, “You’re cold. I should head back.”
“Don’t.” She smiled shyly. “Not yet.”
At Michel’s frown, she leaned forward and fiddled with the firepit until blue flames licked the night air.
“There. I’m not cold anymore.” She arched a brow. “Satisfied?”
“Quite,” he said with a wolfish grin. He had to decide what the best way was for him to love her. But for now, he needed this—this warm, intimate moment with the love of his life. Another memory that would stay with him forever. “Yet, I seem to be insatiable when it comes to you.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but he could see a blush rise to her cheeks in the light of the fire. Pulling her cardigan close around her, she raised her bare feet toward the flames and wiggled her toes. Then she bolted up in her seat and looked frantically around her garden.
“Oh my God.” She covered her mouth with both her hands. “Sophie.”
“She’s back at the hotel.” He reached over and pulled her hands down. “No one witnessed our… indiscretion.”
“Thank goodness.” Emma sagged with relief, then straightened again. “Wait. Did you sneak out?”
“I did not sneak out.” The tips of his ears grew hot. “I’m not a wayward adolescent. I merely left my suite without notifying her.”
