So I do the only thing I can, the only thing I know he’ll accept from me. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I pull him close, until my breasts are pressing into his back and my warmth can seep into his suddenly cold skin.
Garrett shudders once, twice, his body going limp against mine.
We stand like that—me giving comfort and Garrett taking it the only way he knows how—for several long minutes. It soothes me as much as it does him, which is strange considering I didn’t know I needed to be soothed.
It feels good, so good that I could stand here like this all night. Just holding him. Just feeling him breathe against me. It’s an odd feeling for a woman who has spent her life perfecting the fuck-and-run, but it’s not an unsafe one. At least not now, when I can hear his heart beating beneath my ear.
I kiss him because I can’t not kiss him, my lips skimming across his back, right below his shoulder blades. It’s one more gesture of comfort for both of us, one more way for me to feel close to him right now.
And maybe it works that way, maybe it doesn’t. I don’t know. But I do know that it shatters something inside of him—some restraint or control I didn’t even know he was struggling with.
Because, suddenly, he’s turning around and pulling me straight off the ground.
Grabbing my legs and wrapping them around his waist.
Slamming his mouth down on mine.
Ravenously taking what I am suddenly just as desperate to give him.
Chapter 19
Garrett
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My brain stops working the second Lola wraps those warm, shapely legs of hers around my waist and all I can think is fuck.
Fuck, I want her.
Fuck, I need her.
Fuck, I have to have her.
I don’t care if this is a bad idea, don’t give a fuck if our relationship is supposed to be for the gossip columns only. The plan doesn’t matter right now. Nothing does but getting inside her and feeling her come on my dick.
I’ve fucked a bunch of women since I lost the throne and none of them made me feel like this. No one has ever made me feel like Lola does—like the whole prince thing doesn’t matter. Like she wants me, Garrett, and not His Royal Hotness.
It’s a strange feeling but an exhilarating one. An intoxicating one.
She shifts a little, trying to get closer, and I slide my hands under her robe so I can cup her ass and support her. Now that I’ve got her exactly where I want her, the last thing I want to do is drop her. Or let her go.
I rip my mouth from hers to say, “Lola, sweetheart, I need—”
“Yes!” It’s almost a wail as she pulls my mouth back to hers.
“You didn’t give me a chance to ask—”
“It doesn’t matter. The answer’s yes.”
“Thank fuck.”
I start walking her across the room and she moans at the motion, tilting her head back so that her long, slender neck is exposed to my gaze. I take instant advantage, sliding my mouth across her jaw and down her throat to her collarbone, licking and nibbling every inch of soft, sweet skin in between. I pause at the hollow of her throat, sucking at the sensitive skin there until I’ve left a bruise that can’t be ignored. Until I leave a mark that can’t be ignored.
It’s not like me, this marking up a woman like she’s my personal plaything. But with Lola, I can’t help myself. I want something tangible on her skin, something I can look at that proves she’s mine. Something that tells every other man out there the same thing.
She calls out when I finally lift my mouth from her skin, then rocks her lower body against mine in a desperate invitation that has me hanging onto control by my fingertips.