The Prince (The Original Sinners 3)

And Nora’s eyes had gone black as a starless night then, and something burned in them and turned in them and scared the shit out of him. That’s when he realized he no more knew Nora Sutherlin than he knew the number of stars in the sky.

“Why did you stay with him?” He’d asked the question in a whisper, as a whisper was all he could manage.

Nora had smiled, a smile that took over her face and her eyes, and all he could do was stare into that smile like he sometimes stared into the crescent moon.

“I like foreplay.”

“You said you liked it, when he hit you,” Wesley said now, running his hands up and down her legs. With every pass his fingers inched higher.

“I did like it. I do. But sometimes it’s exhausting. Pain hurts, and to have sex with Søren means submitting to pain. Sometimes I had to wonder what it would be like to have sex and not have to be subjected to ten kinds of agony first.”

Wesley didn’t say anything. He only cupped Nora’s face with both his hands and rubbed the arch of her cheekbones. She wrinkled her nose and he laughed.

“What’s that face for?”

“Your hands smell like catfish food.”

Wesley pulled his hands away from Nora’s face and, more importantly, from her nose.

“Sorry. Maybe you’re right. We should do this back at the house. I can take a shower first.”

“No, no, no. We’re doing this. Absolutely. Just catfish food hands…yet another thing that doesn’t happen during sex scenes in romance novels.” Nora reached out and dug her fingers into his belt loops to pull him closer. “Or this. Goddammit.”

“What?”

Nora raised her hand up into the light. “Just chipped the hell out of my manicure. This is hopeless. We’re hopeless, Wes.”

Laughing, she leaned her head against the center of his chest and exhaled. Wesley sighed and rested his chin on top of it.

“I have hope for us,” he whispered. “We might get the sex wrong, but I think we get everything else right. In romance novels, the woman is flawlessly beautiful, right? You’ve got that part down.”

Nora turned her exquisite face up to him and smiled in the moonlight. A lightning bug flashed its light by her eyes and Wesley’s stomach clenched.

“Definitely got that,” he repeated.

Nora reached up and pushed his shirt open and started to slowly slide it off his shoulders.

“Men in romance novels always have perfect bodies. Big broad shoulders with sexy definition, flat, hard stomach, those good veins in the forearms...” As she dragged his shirt off him, she touched every inch of his chest—his shoulders, his stomach, his forearms. “You’ve got the perfect male body down. Definitely. We’re almost there.”

“What are we missing?” Wesley gently pulled the clip out of Nora’s hair, freeing the black waves to fall down her back. She raised her arms and he pulled her shirt off, leaving her in only her black bra and skirt.

“We have to make love now. Not f**king. Not sex. Making love. They never call it f**king in romance novels. Oh, unless it’s between the villain and his mistress. They’re allowed to f**k. The hero has to make love to the heroine. Gently at first, until the passion overcomes him and he’s lost in the blah-blah…all that garbage.”

“Make love to you. I can do that. I think.”

Nora grinned. “None of that. Can’t have any honest self-doubt. Gotta be kind of an ass**le if you’re going to be a romance-novel hero. Only Alphas, no Betas. Sorry.” She wagged her finger at him before laying her hand on his stomach and tracing the line of his hips with her fingertips.

“Then I don’t want to be a romance-novel hero. I just want to be me with you. And I’ve got nothing but self-doubt right now. Nora…what the hell do I do?”

She slid both hands up to his chest and rested them right under his collarbone.

“It’s me. You can do anything you want.”

Wesley nodded and took one more deep breath. He held her by the nape of the neck and brought his lips to her mouth in a kiss more ferocious than he ever dreamed he’d be capable of. Nora moaned softly in the back of her throat as she leaned into the kiss.

He ran his hands all over her skin—her soft smooth arms, up and down her back, over the exposed tops of her br**sts. Her br**sts…no woman in the world had br**sts like Nora. Wesley reached behind her back and unclasped her bra.

“Holy…I got it this time.”

“Good job, kid.” Nora shrugged her shoulders as he slid the straps of her bra down her arms. “Practice makes perfect.”

“We didn’t need the bolt cutters this time.”

“No. We just needed you.” Nora rolled back on the table and Wesley could only gaze at her br**sts. He laid his hand on her stomach, which contracted under his touch. His nervousness gave way to pure desire. He took her br**sts in his hands and held them, kneading them gently.

“Is this okay?” he asked, wanting Nora to feel as good as she made him feel.

“Very okay. But don’t forget the ni**les. That’s where the magic happens.”

“I would never forget the ni**les.” He took her ni**les between his index fingers and thumbs and lightly pinched. Nora gasped, her back coming an inch off the table. Wesley froze. “Good gasp or bad?”

“Good. Really really good gasp.”

“Good. Great.” He returned to her ni**les with renewed confidence as Nora lay beneath his hands, panting with his every touch. Soon touching wasn’t enough for him. He pulled her closer to him, slid an arm under her back and brought his lips down onto her breast. Gently he drew her nipple into his mouth. Nora’s soft panting turned into loud moaning. She dug her hands into his hair again as he kissed his way from one nipple to the other.