In Bed with the Beast (Naughty Princess Club 2)

“Alright, now, we cover it with foil, and put it in the oven for thirty minutes,” I instruct him.

He rips off a sheet of foil and covers the pan. While he’s busy washing his hands, I slide it into the oven and set the timer.

“We should probably clean this mess up while it’s cooking.”

“The mess can wait,” he says softly while he dries his hands on a kitchen towel before tossing it on top of a puddle of sauce. “How about we . . . talk.”

Just like earlier at Charming’s, my heart drops right into my stomach with the way he says the word talk all serious, with a concerned look on his face. Before he can say anything else, I quickly move to stand in front of him, resting my hands on his chest.

“I’m not exactly stripper material and considering you were engaged to a stripper, I’m sure you’re used to a much higher-caliber type of woman. I don’t have legs a mile long. I don’t have big boobs. I wear glasses, my hair is always a mess, I’m a huge nerd, and I tried to wear false eyelashes to work once and one of them fell off and was stuck to my cheek for four hours. No one told me I had what looked like a huge spider on my face. I don’t know how to do basic stuff normal women know how to do. I’m not a normal woman. I’m just me.”

Vincent’s chest is heaving and his nostrils are flaring by the time I stop word vomiting.

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” he says in a low, borderline ticked-off voice.

“That was my way of asking if this talk has anything to do with you changing your mind about liking me and wanting to see where this thing between us can go. I mean, I get it. Look at me,” I whisper, dropping my head to stare at my hands still pressed against his chest.

One of his hands comes up between us and his fingers press under my chin, lifting my head back up until our eyes meet.

“I am looking at you. I’ve been looking at you since the day you first came to Charming’s. I tried to slam the door in your face, and you put your hands on your hips and told me off,” he says with a fierce look in his eyes. “You are the highest caliber of woman I have ever met in my life. You don’t take my shit, you aren’t afraid of me even though you should be, and you have absolutely no fucking idea how goddamn beautiful and sexy you are.”

My eyes start clouding with tears and I quickly blink them away.

“You should be the one changing your mind. You should be running as fast and as far away from me as possible before I hurt you. Every damn time I walk through that front door, I thank Christ you’re still here. I only agreed to help you out so you can be a good stripper because I wanted more of you. I need to tell you—”

I quickly bring one hand up and press it over his mouth.

“I don’t care,” I whisper. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Not right now.”

Vincent presses a kiss to my palm before pulling it away from his mouth. He grabs onto my hips and starts walking me backwards until I bump into the island behind me.

“You should run. I’m gonna end up hurting you,” he whispers.

“Never. Nothing you say or do could ever make me run away from you. I’m here to stay, so you’re just gonna have to get used to it,” I tell him with a smile.

A few quiet seconds pass where we just stand here close, staring into each other’s eyes. My heart starts beating faster in my chest, and a thrill of anticipation shoots through me.

“We’ve got about forty more minutes until the lasagna is done. Got any ideas on what we could do to pass the time?”

He finally gives me a smirk that I feel like I’ve been waiting all day to see.

In the blink of an eye, he slides his hands into the waistband of my pajama bottoms, yanking them down my legs. He quickly stands back up until he’s towering over me and grabs my hips. The way he looks down at me, with so much desire in his eyes, makes me rub my thighs together with need.

I let out a gasp when he quickly lifts me up, and I grab on to his shoulders as he deposits me on the counter that is the only clean spot in this entire kitchen. Sliding his hands down the top of my bare thighs, he gently pushes them open and moves between my legs.

“Lean back on your hands,” he orders gently.