Her Off Limits Prince

"Do you?" Then she supposed wrong.

"That must have been hard for your brother, too."

"Perhaps. He has never said." Tor didn't want to think about his family any longer.

Not his father who might as well be a stranger, or his brother who was also his sovereign, or his other brother who had closed himself off from all of them on some level while following their father's example of becoming a workaholic.

"You're a very good dancer," he told Blythe, his smile filled with heat he made no effort to deny.

She stumbled and then laughed. "Don't say that, you're jinxing me."

More like she reacted as strongly to him as he did to her.

"We fit very well together," he said meaningfully.

"Don't, Tor."

"Don't what?"

"Say stuff like that."

So, she'd taken his double meaning. He smiled.

But then the song ended and Blythe went to pull away.

Tor held on though. "One more. You're just getting the hang of this."

She bit her lip, her beautiful sapphire eyes filled with confusion and attraction she could not hide.

"Please, Blythe. Just one more." He was a prince, he never pleaded for anything.

But for this woman? Tor would make an exception.

"Just one more," she finally acquiesced.

He pulled her a little closer and spent the next song teaching her steps which she seemed to enjoy very much.

His brother Geir tapped his shoulder and right then Tor could have consigned his entire family to a glacier wasteland.

Older brothers could be such a pain the ass.

But Blythe smiled up at Geir, like she wanted to dance with him, no convincing required.

Disgruntled, but undaunted in his plan, Tor relinquished his hold, giving his brother a look that warned him to keep his playboy hands to himself.

Geir's eyes widened, but he gave an infinitesimal nod to acknowledge Tor's warning.

Tor waited until the social niceties had been observed before tracking Blythe down again. Dancing with her had been amazing, but it had had a predictable effect on his body.

Since he did not want to walk around with a hard-on, he kept his distance from her.

But the major dignitaries had left, including his father, which meant that Tor could leave without being censured for it.

He found Blythe talking to a diplomat and his wife. It sounded like they were discussing the best spots for Spring travel. He wouldn't mind taking Blythe on a trip in the Spring, preferably someplace warm they could spend most of their time in swimsuits and with no paparazzi.

He tapped her smooth shoulder, left bare by the haler neckline of her gown. That small connection to her skin sent messages zinging to his libido. "Miss Whitney-Jones, I would like a word, please."

She startled as if he'd yelled rather than speaking in the moderate tone he'd been trained to since childhood.