The Mistress That Tamed De Santis

‘I’m the Crown Prince—most people are pleased to do things for me.’

‘So I should feel honoured?’

He shook her gently then pulled her to rest against him again. ‘Stop trying to stall and just admit you feel the same.’

‘The same?’ She stiffened, trying to hold back the desire threatening to overwhelm her. Did he really feel this as intensely as she? Did he want her the way she wanted him this second?

‘I like how good you make me feel,’ he muttered.

‘I didn’t do anything. You wouldn’t let me.’ She’d been so hurt by that.

A wry smile curved his lips. ‘You need me to prove it? Again. Untrusting creature.’

‘Do you blame me?’ she asked. ‘You ask me to admit things when you rejected me so harshly. You wouldn’t let me near you. You made me—’ She broke off. ‘And then you left. You couldn’t get away quickly enough.’

His smile faded. ‘I apologise. You took me by surprise. You were right and I was wrong. I shouldn’t have walked out and I have regretted it every second since.’

‘You’re the Penitent Prince?’ She couldn’t breathe.

‘I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t.’

At his words that last little knot of anger disintegrated within her.

‘Nor would I.’ But she shivered because somehow his admission made her feel vulnerable.

He slid his hand beneath the hem of her thin tee, tracing his fingers up her spine. His touch warm and firm.

‘Chemistry like this... I didn’t think it happened,’ she confessed.

‘Nor did I.’

It was just physical, right?

‘You don’t like it,’ she muttered, her thoughts derailed by the swirling pattern he was drawing over her skin with his fingertips.

‘It’s a distraction,’ he answered evasively. He slid his hand up to cup the nape of her neck and pushed her back over his arm so her shirt pulled taut. He gazed down at the way the fabric rubbed against her nipples, emphasising their hard outline.

‘So you think if we have what we want, then we’ll no longer want it?’ She arched uncontrollably against him as he sucked one tight nipple into his mouth, bra and tee and all.

‘Yes.’ He bent to give her other breast the same sinfully good treatment. ‘This cannot be anything more than here and now. You wouldn’t want it to be anything more.’

She arched against him again, unable to resist rocking her hips against his hard pelvis. He was right. She didn’t want any of what would come with this if it became public. ‘Will you allow me to touch you this time?’

‘I don’t know how I got the strength to stop you. I don’t know how I walked away,’ he muttered. ‘I want to see you naked.’ His glittering gaze raked down her body, felt like a force—drawing heat from her, making her want to move in a way she’d never wanted before.

‘We each take off one layer at a time,’ she suggested. ‘It’s only fair.’

‘Life isn’t fair.’ He smiled wolfishly and pushed her tee shirt up.

‘This time, it is going to be fair.’ She demanded it.

He didn’t answer, but there was a glint in his eye as he straightened her up, stood back and held out his arms, letting her peel the perfectly tailored jacket from his shoulders. Slowly, savouring the moment, she tugged his tie free, then unbuttoned the pearl buttons of his starched white shirt.

‘That’s more than one layer already,’ he noted, his breath stirring her hair as she moved in close.

She didn’t care. She was too busy exposing his chest. Heat balled low in her belly. He was gorgeous. Nothing but lean muscle and bronzed skin and a faint line of dark hair arrowing down the centre of his rigid abs to his belt. For the first time she took real pleasure in just looking. And then kissing. Then touching.

She traced over his ridged muscles. ‘You’re beautiful.’

‘That’s a word to describe you, not me.’

‘You exercise.’ She unfastened his belt and fumbled with his fly.

He moved to help her, toeing out of his shoes before shoving down both his dress pants, his briefs and socks until he straightened and stood utterly bared before her. ‘Every morning.’