Seducing the Princess (Shillings Agency 3)

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving behind the temptation she was, and reminded himself that she was his charge. Nothing more. Nothing less.

No matter how damn much he wanted her.

Chapter Four

As soon as the door shut behind him, Isabelle kicked her heels off and collapsed against the post of the bed. The tension and, yes, desire buzzing between the two of them was insane. When he’d been unzipping her dress, he could have had her, right then and there. Despite their class differences. Despite the fact that she was never going to get to be happy with a man like him, even if she wanted to. She would have been his.

And she would have loved every second of it.

She had no doubt about that.

But then he’d gone and made yet another condescending comment about her being a princess. Technically, she wore the clothes. Walked in the shoes. Looked every part the stuck up princess he believed her to be. But she wasn’t.

She really wasn’t.

Sighing, she let the damp dress hit the floor at her feet. For a second, just a second, she’d almost forgotten about her duties. All the expectations. Just like he’d said she could, and it had felt so freeing. So tempting. She’d thought she could just be impulsive, having fun with a man that seemed as attracted to her as she was to him.

But then he’d ruined it all by opening his stupid mouth.

She hesitated before slipping her bra off, too. It was as wet as her dress, after all. She drew the line at taking her panties off, though. It was already far too tempting to take them off when she was around Gordon—if she wasn’t wearing any, there’d be nothing left to shield her virtue.

If she could even bother to try.

As she slid the robe on, she hugged it close and sniffed it. It smelled like him. Delicious, tempting, and oh so sexy. She wanted him. There was no logical explanation as to why, but she wanted him so badly.

She might be as good as engaged to that Prince George fellow, but she’d never even met the guy before. She didn’t have to be loyal to him before she met him, did she? One night…just one night of fun. Would that be so bad?

Princesses never have dalliances.

“Yes, Mother,” she muttered to herself. “I hear you.”

She tied the robe shut at the same time as Gordon knocked on his bedroom door. “Are you dressed?”

“Come in,” she called out, still holding onto the belt ends of the robe.

The door cracked open slowly, probably giving her time to cry out if she wasn’t fully dressed. When she remained quiet, he popped his head around the door. His gaze dipped over her, taking in her appearance in his robe. By the time his eyes met hers again, she felt as if she might burst into flames right then and there. “You ready?”

Ready for what? Him? Yes.

She just had to figure out how to tell him that without ruining it.

“Yes.” She bent over and picked up the dress and bra. She’d never done laundry before, but she could only assume the two could be dried together. “I took off my lingerie, too.”

“Okay.” He held his hand out, his face giving nothing of his thoughts away. It was as if that moment between them hadn’t even happened. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” She set her bra and dress in his hand, her cheeks hot. “I take it you know how to do laundry?”

He gave her a look. “Yes. I know how to do laundry,” he said with laughter in his voice.

“Don’t do that,” she snapped. “Don’t treat me like I’m some freak you can’t understand. Just because I’m different than you, doesn’t make me stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid.”

He dropped his hand to his side, her dress and bra hanging from his fingers. He still hadn’t put a shirt on, and she couldn’t stop staring at his hard abs. His chest. His tattoos. It was all so very delicious when put together. Her fingers itched to trace the artwork on his skin. To touch him. Feel him. Have him. Taste him.

If she dipped her gaze lower, she could literally trace each line of his abs. He was that chiseled, and she wanted to. She wanted to touch him everywhere. What would he do if she reached out and curved her fingers over the black Chinese letters on his pecs? Too bad she would never be brave enough to find out…or would she?

“The wine?” she blurted out, tearing her eyes from his chest. “Where is it?”