In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

I don’t know if a soufflé is sexy, but it’s French. Speaking French always sounds sexy.

Suddenly, I remember a scene in the book I was reading just a few minutes ago, where the woman in the story batted her eyelashes at the man she liked, and he immediately took her in his arms and kissed her. I’m not exactly sure how blinking rapidly turned into kissing, but it doesn’t hurt to try.

Food, French, eyelashes. Let’s do this.

I smile up at Vincent and flutter my eyelids so quickly that it almost makes me dizzy.

“Soufflé, croquet monsieur, foie gras . . . ,” I whisper seductively, trailing off when I can’t think of any other French food items.

Okay, so maybe goose liver isn’t the sexiest French food I could have come up with, but my French is limited to what I’ve seen on cooking shows and it will have to do.

“What. In the hell. Are you doing?” Vincent asks.

The little bit of confidence I had disappears in an instant, and my shoulders droop in defeat.

“I was flirting. That was me flirting,” I tell him with a shrug.

“That wasn’t flirting. That was . . . I don’t know what that was. Listen, you can’t learn how to flirt by trying to mimic something you read in a book,” he informs me, causing my cheeks to heat in embarrassment because that’s exactly what I was doing. “Flirting is about making someone feel like you’re attracted to them with your body language, not necessarily with actual language, unless you’re giving them compliments. Making eye contact, touching, showing them you’re interested. Just be yourself. Do what comes naturally. Touch me. Give me a compliment.”

Touching him and giving him a compliment does not come naturally, is he insane? I tamp down my nerves and realize I’m not going to learn anything unless I do exactly what he says. Lifting my hand, I awkwardly pat the side of his arm a few times.

“That’s a great T-shirt you’re wearing. Is it new? The cotton is really soft,” I tell him, my palm now rubbing against the sleeve of his shirt.

The corner of his mouth twitches, but thankfully, he doesn’t laugh at me. He wraps his hand around my wrist, pulling it between us and presses it against his chest, flattening my palm against his muscles until I can feel the beating of his heart.

“Move closer,” he orders.

I swallow nervously, my eyes on his big hand holding mine in place against his chest, and shuffle my feet an inch nearer to him.

“Closer,” he urges in a low voice.

I take a full step this time, bringing myself right up against him. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act naturally when the heat from his body and the smell of his skin makes me tingle in a way I’m unfamiliar with. Being this close to him, being forced to touch him, it makes me want to ask him if he has hyperthyroidism which produces too much of the hormone thyroxine, and an excess of this hormone can cause your body’s metabolism to increase, which leads to a rising of body temperature, and would explain why he’s so damn hot.

Good grief, even in my head I can’t be sexy and flirty.

“Look at me.”

My eyes slowly move up his chest and over his throat, pausing on his full lips. My heart stutters in my chest, wishing he’d just kiss me again. I forgot all about being nervous around this man when his lips were on mine the other night. Realizing that’s not going to happen right now, I keep looking up until my eyes meet his. He’s got such beautiful brown eyes and full, dark lashes that staring into them makes me forget where I am and what I’m doing.

With his palm still resting on top of mine, holding it securely against his chest, he starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth against the skin on back of my hand, putting me in a trance.

“You have beautiful eyes,” I whisper distractedly, my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips. “Brown eye color is a dominant genetic trait and is created by the presence of melanin in the eye. Over fifty percent of the world’s population has brown eyes.”

Vincent lets out a low groan, and I can feel the rumble of it in his chest, right against my palm. My hand curls into a fist, clutching the material of his T-shirt, tugging him closer to me.

I hold my breath as I continue staring into his eyes, watching as he slowly starts to lower his head, his mouth moving closer and closer to mine. My eyelids flutter closed and right when I brace myself to feel his lips pressed against mine, he suddenly drops his hand from on top of mine and takes a step back.