His Undercover Princess (Tempt Me 1)

Fingers still tingling from touching her, he took a deep breath to regain some sanity before he threw her over his shoulder caveman style and carried her back up to his bed. “Sounds like it’s already wearing off.”

She dragged her fingers through her long hair and swallowed hard. “Look, I understand the why of what you did, I do, but it still hurts. I was so scared and alone in the beginning. That passed and I got my footing, what I thought was a deserved scholarship, a rent-controlled apartment, and a snarky old lady neighbor who made me laugh even when I had a fever and a nose that wouldn’t stop running. I stopped being scared, but I was never not alone.”

“I’m sorry.” It took everything he had not to rush over to her and tell her she’d never be alone again, that she’d always have him, but another lie was the last thing she needed right now. “We did the best we could.”

“You did. And so did I.” A decisive nod—the future queen was back. “Are you responsible for the job at Dylan’s?”

“We may have gotten your résumé moved to the top of the pile, but you earned it on your own.”

“And if the threat from the Fjende hadn’t appeared, would you have kept watching from a distance?”

“Yes.” He was beginning to hate that fucking word.

She considered him with a distant, calculating look, her earlier open vulnerability stored away somewhere he couldn’t touch. He wasn’t surprised; she’d had years of practice of hiding her true self. So which one was the true Elle? The woman who melted under his touch, the spitfire who challenged his every move, the engaging stylist who teased and flirted, or the future queen as icy as she was fiery? Then, in one of those flash-of-realization moments that seem shouted down from heaven, Dom realized he didn’t care, because he wanted them all. He wanted her for more than a Roman Holiday escape, and he couldn’t have her. His mission and her duty took precedence over his heart.

“I’m going to go shower.” She turned and started for the door.

“Elle.” The five feet between them felt like miles. “Are we good?”

She stilled but didn’t turn to look back. “I don’t know.”

And then she was gone.

He wanted to chase after her, kiss her until she couldn’t remember her name, let alone all he’d revealed, but she needed space and time to digest the conversation. So Dom forced himself to sit back down on the bar stool at the island and drink the last of his coffee while he watched the clock’s second hand tick forward.

Chapter Eleven

After discovering even a thirty-minute super-hot shower wouldn’t drain the chalet’s hot water tank or get rid of the disappointment clinging to her heart, Elle squeezed the heavy wet out of her hair and stepped out of the shower. Steam covered the large mirror over the double sinks and hung heavy in the air.

She understood Dom’s reasoning for not coming for her until he didn’t have a choice, but that didn’t alleviate the hurt. Ten years was a long time to think that you were alone in the world. Then she’d met Dom, and despite everything that should have sent her running, it was like she was finally with her people—the ones who understood without her having to explain a thing.

Then he’d dropped his little bombshell and cracked the foundation of whatever was building between them…and there was something. She knew it the same way she knew her pulse was going to skyrocket when he walked into a room, the way in their training matches she knew he would take off the kid gloves because too much was at risk to pussyfoot around, and the way her soul settled any time he was near. He might not be her people, but he could be her person. Another time, another place…she would have run like the wind to get away from the feelings he caused, but their limited time together had one advantage. She didn’t have to worry about losing him, because she’d never really have him no matter how much she realized she wanted to. All she had was the next thirty hours. The question, was how did she want to spend them? With Dom, pretending there wasn’t a jet to Elskov waiting for them at the end of it all.

Wrapping the thick white towel around her, she walked out of the bathroom into the massive guest room and stopped dead in her tracks. Dom sat on the end of her bed, the shirt of his she’d worn down to breakfast twisted in his hands. God, he looked delicious. Contrite, proud, and unbroken all in one tall, muscled, Viking warrior package here to accept whatever she wanted to dish out at him, because he could take it. He’d thrown on pants and a dark blue button-up shirt. There wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen beyond the crumpled mass of white fabric crushed in his large hands.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d drowned in there.” He tossed the shirt to the side and leaned against the carved walnut post at the end of the bed like he had every right to be there.

It was a shock to realize that for the first time, the image of a man in her personal space didn’t freak her out. It was right where she wanted him. No. She wanted him in it. Naked. Sweaty. Hard. She stalked across the room, stopping between his wide-spread thighs. “Showers help me clear my head.”

“So what did you decide?”

Toying with the tiny buttons on his shirt, she slipped one and then another free. “We’re okay.”

Torment clearly written on his face, he grabbed her wrist and forced her arm back to her side before releasing her as if he couldn’t trust himself to touch her at that moment. “Not that I should ask this, but why?”

And wasn’t the fact that he asked the hard questions one of the things she loved most about him… Loved? Yes. The answer smoothed all of her ragged edges.

“Neither of us was in an enviable situation. We both did the best we could.” She raised her fingers to the corner of the towel tucked between her breasts, releasing it and letting the towel drop. “Any more questions?”

“Not a damn one.” He started in on the rest of his shirt buttons.

“Good.” She shoved his shoulders so he flopped back onto her bed hard enough that the inky-blue decorative pillows went flying. “Then let’s get on with this holiday.”

Crawling up his body, she glided her cheek over his hard thighs and the even harder cock pushing against his pant leg before sitting up with a little extra drama and throwing her head back so the damp strands of her hair slapped against her bare back. Judging by the dark, hungry look he aimed at her stiff nipples, Dom obviously liked the show and how it had made her breasts jiggle. Ignoring the temptation to dangle her breasts in his face and let him have a lick, she straddled his hips and knocked away his hands from the buttons on his shirt. Giving him a sassy wink, she set to work stripping him bare.

“Oh, you think you’re in charge?” He stretched and rested his hands behind his head, amusement curling his lips into a smirk.

“I know I am.” And he was about to find out exactly what that meant.