Her Off Limits Prince

She nodded, reaching to undo his fly without hesitation. He almost laughed. He'd meant they should both finish undressing, but Blythe had other ideas.

He decided he liked her plan and found the side zip of her fitted slacks. He had better luck with the hook and eye at the top than he had with her bra, then he slid the zip down, before pushing the grey fabric down her hips.

She stepped out of her heels and then her slacks, standing there in nothing but a tiny lacy thong, her generous curves on mouthwatering display.

He swallowed, his throat gone dry. "You are gorgeous."

"You're not so bad yourself." She was looking at his now naked, straining erection.

He would have laughed if just that look didn't have him even closer to coming.

Done with teasing and waiting, he swept her up into his arms, intending to carry her into the bedroom.

Her laughter was all warm sensuality. "In a hurry, Your Highness?"

In that tone? With that look, Your Highness turned from a formal address into something sexy and endearing.

"Aren't you?" he teased right back.

He could smell her arousal, see the proof of her desire in her beaded nipples, flushed skin, panting breaths.

"Oh, yes," she said throatily.

He made his way with more speed than finesse to the bedroom. He set her on her feet, then yanked the comforter and sheet to the bottom of the bed.

Without a second's hesitation, Blythe climbed onto the bed, shoving the pillows so two were in the middle and then settling back on them.

Looking up at him with pure provocation she shifted, her legs falling apart. "Come on, Tor."

He took a necessary breath before joining her on the mattress.

He wanted inside her so badly, he ached, but Tor wanted to touch her even more. So that was what he did, learning every silky inch of her skin, watching closely for what turned up her desire and what didn't seem to impact it as much.

He brushed over the pretty curls at the apex of her thighs, loving how she moaned and writhed.

"Feel good?" he asked.

She moved her hips, seeking more of his touch. "You know it does."

He caressed and then tasted every bit of skin he'd dreamt of since meeting this woman.

"I need, Tor! Please!"

He couldn't make his voice work, but he reached for the condoms in his bedside table, wanting to cheer when he got one on the first try.

In that moment, he sent mental thanks to his brother Geir for that embarrassing talk when he was an adolescent about using condoms to masturbate for easy and tidy cleanup. He'd never been without them in his bedside table since.

Then Tor was between Blythe's thighs, the thin barrier of the condom in no way diminishing the sensation of his erection kissing her most intimate flesh.

"Ready?" he gritted out, poised to join his body with a woman for the first time.

She grabbed his hips, pulling forward. "More than."

He took that for the challenge it was and pushed forward, sheathing himself in her tight, wet heat.

He said a particularly dirty curse in Norwegian. Words he would never say in public.

But this feeling? Her slick, silky heat surrounding him. It was so damn good.