Cocky Prince

by Jules Barnard

  I glower, even as he nuzzles my ear. “Very clever the way you’ve justified that.”

  He straightens, his expression serious. “It was a dick maneuver, but I’ve grown over the last eleven years. I’m not flawless, but I want this to work.” A touch of vulnerability reflects in his eyes. If I didn’t know him, I might have missed it. “What do you think? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

  “Oh, you’re asking me now?” I say saucily.

  A grin flashes across his face and he hauls me to his chest. “You’re never going to back down, are you?”

  I sniff his coat. “Never.”

  “If you’re smelling me, I suppose that’s a yes?”

  “Yes. And I want permission to sniff you whenever I like, because you smell really good.”

  “I can agree to those terms, as long they work in reverse.”

  “Agreed.” I warm up with my arms wrapped around his waist and my face plastered to his chest. “I’m not against being exclusive and finding out where this goes—take things slow.”

  Famous last words…

  We manage to make it inside the door to my house before Adam is kissing me and I’m loosening his tie and struggling to get it off so that I can kiss his neck. Of course my fashionable Adam has to wear a tie while all his brothers skipped it with their sports coats.

  “I hate this thing.” Somehow, an item that should be so simple to remove has become complicated, as I’ve managed to triple-knot the slipknot. Adam slides the straps of my dress over my shoulders, making it even more challenging to get the dang tie off. “Arghh!”

  He pulls back and glances down. He fusses with the tie for a second, then strides into the kitchen.

  “Hey, where are you going?” I stand there confused, my arms bound to my sides by my dress.

  I hear him shuffling around in a drawer, and then he returns, a wad of something in his hand. He passes it to me, and starts kissing my neck and the tops of my breasts again. I glance at the wad. It’s his tie. Cut in two.

  That’s hot.

  I kick off my heels and yank his coat off his shoulders. He wiggles out of it, and I start working on the buttons of his shirt. One of them shoots past my head, almost taking out an eye, but I maintain focus. Until cool air hits my back and I suck in a breath. Adam unzipped my dress, the fabric dropping to the ground.

  Well, there goes that.

  I’m in panties and a strapless bra that cinches like a bitch in order to keep the girls up. I’d beg Adam to remove it just to return feeling to my skin, but there’s no need. With one flick, he has it off and his hands on my breasts are circulating all kinds of heated blood flow to the area.

  His thumb glides over my nipple and I squeak.

  He pulls back and quirks a brow. “Sensitive?”

  “Maybe?”

  He starts kissing me again and leans down, his palms gliding down my bare legs and up the backs of my thighs. Shivers rack my body. And then he’s circling his arms around me and lifting me, his chest and arms blasting heat where our bodies connect, though I’m in far less fabric, according to my calculations. I got the shirt off, but he’s wearing a damned undershirt too.

  His soft, nimble mouth is seducing the shit out of mine as he carries me down the hallway. My calves hit the mattress of my bed, and then I’m half falling, half lowered as he covers me, toeing off his shoes in the process, his arms supporting his weight. But the weight that isn’t fully supported feels incredible, pressing in all the right places.

  I drag my mouth away from his. “Shirt. Off.”

  He sits back on his heels, his knees on either side of my hips, and whips the offending T-shirt over his head. He tries to cover my body again, but it’s too late. I saw his chest for the very first time.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up, buddy.” I push his shoulders until he straightens, his muscular thighs straining the dress pants he has on, a belt resting below thick ridges of abdominal muscles.

  I run my hands up and down his chest, trailing a finger along the muscles above his belt.

  His breathing increases, his mouth tense. “Finished?”

  I don’t get a chance to answer, because he’s on top of me again and kissing me with an intensity that makes my head spin. “Hayden,” he says, with a level of feeling I’ve never heard from him before. Soft fingers trail gently along my jaw as he gazes down at me. His eyes are nearly black in this light, and so warm I don’t know how I could have thought him cold.

  I let out a sigh and wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him to me. When did Adam become so essential to a good day versus a bad one? It used to be the opposite, but at some point things changed. The linen and manly scent of him drugs me, his touch ignites, and his voice seduces. But his eyes—they tell me everything I’ve missed. Adam is not the rich opportunist I took him for. And he cares more than I knew.

  I reach for his belt and fumble with it for a second, nearly shouting in triumph when I get it loose, along with the button and zipper of his pants. He kisses and licks a path to my breasts, distracting me and making my work harder, but not impossible. I push the pants down with my feet, along with an elastic waistband my hazy brain identifies as boxer briefs, and then he slides higher, kissing my neck, his thick, long erection pressing down above my panties. A jolt of pleasure rocks through me and we moan at the same time.

  Seconds later my panties melt off—or he pulls them off, who knows? They’re gone, that’s all that matters, and he’s kicking off the last offensive piece of clothing still dangling from his ankles, and then we’re rolling—naked, hot, and hands everywhere.

  Adam inches down, kissing my neck and cupping my breasts, the light hair on his legs scraping lightly over mine. A tongue swipes my nipple and I squeak.

  Dammit that’s embarrassing.

  I glance to see if he noticed. He grins. “Sensitive,” he says, and lightly fingers the other nipple.

  I moan and wrap my legs around him. My eyes roll up in my head as his hips flex, strong muscles along his arms grazing the sides of my breasts as his erection glides up and down the other most sensitive part of me, where I’ve been throbbing for this man for months with or without my will.

  And it must feel good to him too, because in the next moment he gasps, “Condom?”

  Condom? I think dazedly. Do I have condoms? Where the hell are those condoms I bought?

  A moment of sheer panic has my sex-drugged mind going into full alert. “The side drawer!” I say, when enough blood reaches my brain.

  Adam leans up and angles over, the base of his erection—where it’s most thick—rubbing in the spot that has my eyes rolling up again. I wrap my legs around his hips and arch into him.

  The sound of him yanking open the drawer, fumbling around, then slamming it shut fills the room. He tears open the condom wrapper with his teeth and leans to the side. I watch him slide on the condom and my eyes go wide. I felt how much he wanted me. He’s larger than average based on the proportions I sensed down below, but Je-sus, my mental image didn’t do him justice. Reality is much better.

  And then his mouth is back on mine, his palm dragging down my body, hitting my breast, my inner thigh, and then the center of me, where I’m wet and throbbing for him. His finger slides up and down that bundle of nerves, dipping where I’d like other parts of him to be. At the same time his fingers are killing me softly, he leans down and sucks my nipple.

  I might come.

  I bite my lip. And breathe out slowly.

  And then I’m positioning him at my entrance and urging him—rubbing and lifting—for him to get this party started.

  He gets the picture. In one swift move he thrusts forward and my body tightens around him. But he doesn’t stop. His hips flex again and again, each rock taking him deeper. And it feels incredible. I’m shaking, our lips brushing, his hand linked with one of mine beside us while the other gently cups the top of my head.

  Small precursor spasms clench my inner muscles and I feel an orgasm building. Adam is i
nside me, loving me, and nothing has ever felt like this before. I’m shaking, adrenaline coursing through me, and before I can think another thought, I break apart, waves of pleasure and weightlessness coursing down my limbs. I moan, my head pressing back into the pillow.

  Adam’s pace picks up and he’s peppering my face with soft kisses. And then his head lifts and his body tenses, the sexiest sound tearing from his throat.

  He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my mouth while his body moves slowly in and out, the aftershocks rippling along his spine every couple of seconds. He lowers onto me, adjusting his weight so he doesn’t crush me, and nestles his face in my neck, his breathing ragged.

  “I know I said we should take this relationship slow, but slow sucks,” I say drowsily. “This was much better.”

  He reaches down and squeezes my ass. I take that for agreement. I haven’t exactly given him time to recuperate.

  I trail my finger over his broad shoulders. “I can’t believe you hide all of this under a suit. We should initiate casual Fridays at Blue, where you wear nothing but your beat-up T-shirts, jeans, and work boots.”

  “That would go over well.” His voice is groggy and coarse, and so darn sexy.

  “It would, wouldn’t it?”

  He chuckles and discards the condom in the wastebasket by my bed. Then Adam shifts and tucks me closer. I sense his breathing evening out.

  “Excuse me,” I say, and receive a groan in response. “I realize this is prime pass-out time for you cavemen, but you have a job to do. Your woman needs food.”

  He props his head on his hand and grins down at me. “I like the sound of you being mine. And I thought I already did my job.”

  I pinch his rock-hard abs—and flatten my palm there, running it up his chest. I’m no fool. I’m not missing opportunities to feel up Adam. “That was only one of your jobs. There are many tasks on the honey-do list.”

  Adam rolls on his back and pulls me on top of him. “You’re the second person in the last few days who’s mentioned a honey-do list. Jaeg said something about one. What is this mysterious list?” His voice dips suggestively. He sizes up my ass with his palms and trails his hands down the back of my thighs, reigniting what I thought we put out.

  Obviously, I know what he would add to the list.

  “Well,” I say, circling my fingertip around one of his nipples, the muscle flexing beneath. Payback is fair game, after all. “There’s making sure your cavewoman is fed. You teased me with those burritos, and we haven’t even eaten them yet. I hope you don’t think I’m one of those girls who eats like a bird. Because I assure you, that churro wasn’t enough to fill me up. And…well, that’s really it. Food. And kisses. Yup, I could live on those two things.”

  He rolls me over until he’s on top. “There’s nothing else you want to add to that list?” He flexes his hips. As if I need a reminder that his mind is in the gutter.

  “Well, now that you mention it, I’d love for you to finish that closet. And when you’re done with that—”

  Adam tickles my neck with fluttery kisses while his fingers dig into my sides. “You are a bad girl. You know what I want on that list.”

  I laugh and shove his hands aside unsuccessfully. “But it’s my honey-do list!”

  He stops tickling me, a broad smile spreading across his face. “Then I better make my own.” He quirks his eyebrows.

  “You are so single-minded.”

  He tugs me up with him and reaches for the discarded boxer briefs. “Let that be a lesson to you. Food first, because my cavewoman needs it. Then we’ll get back to the honey-do list I’m mentally tacking items to. Of course, it all involves being naked, or partially clothed, if we’re getting imaginative.”

  I shake my head as if exasperated. But secretly, I love it. Love this moment and what we shared, and being here with him—all of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adam

  I sit across from Hayden at her small kitchen table, a jar filled with wildflowers between us, and watch her munch away on a burrito. I should be thinking about the explosive sex we just had… Who am I kidding? I am thinking about that. But I’m also thinking about how much I like this girl. Everything—the way she tastes, the feel of her pressed to my skin, her ridiculous obsession with shoes I seem to find charming. For the first time, like doesn’t fit.

  Everything about Hayden is charming or intelligent or kind, and she has so much integrity. I see her—all of her—and I can’t look away. I wasn’t kidding when I said I enjoyed the sound of Hayden being mine. I think of her as mine, which I’ve never done with anyone. I’ve never wanted more than pleasure and company. But right now, all I can think about is how great it would be to wake up to Hayden every day. To make love to her at night and fall asleep with her in my arms…

  Sex with her has knocked a screw loose.

  This isn’t me. In a few hours, I’ll be back to normal. Won’t feel this pressing urge to bundle her up and never let her go.

  Popping the last bite of chicken burrito in my mouth, I watch as she wraps half of hers and carries it to the fridge. She sets it inside and leans over, her forehead puckered in concentration. Her cute ass is in the air, giving me all sorts of ideas of walking up behind her and having my way with her. Before I can enact my fantasy, she closes the fridge and walks to a cupboard, reaching for something up high. I’m about to walk over and help, but that would interrupt the fascinating food scavenging she’s doing and the view she’s giving me. Her tank top has ridden up, exposing her panties and the most beautiful feminine form I’ve ever seen.

  Can’t interrupt. The view is too good. She is beautiful. Physically, but even more so inside.

  Hayden has morals. She’s being a pain in my ass at work, but it’s because she fights for what she thinks is right. I could learn something from her.

  I ball up the wrapper from my burrito and toss it in the trashcan at the end of the counter. Hayden walks over, gazing lustfully at a piece of dark chocolate she must have procured from the cupboard.

  “Why did you leave?” I ask as she sits down. I’m fascinated by everything about Hayden, and I want to know the parts I missed.

  Things were shitty for her when the rumor broke out during high school, but Hayden is strong. Most people would have freaked out over what happened, except Hayden isn’t like most people. She’s ballsy and hardheaded.

  She chews the chocolate, her gaze on the table. She gives a light shrug as though coming to some sort of decision. “They stoned me.”

  For a moment, an image flashes in my mind of women being stoned in countries where they’re not allowed to show their skin, or be seen walking with a man who isn’t a relative. But that can’t be what she meant. “Excuse me?”

  Hayden scoops crumbs from the table with the side of her hand and brushes them into the trashcan. I still can’t believe how tidy her home is compared to her office. Not that I give two shits, but it does give me pause. “My parents couldn’t spare the car one day, so I walked home from school. Kids in class had been whispering about me. Someone had knocked me into a wall on my way from last period. All typical behavior since the rumor came out.”

  She glances up, looking slightly nervous, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s talking about something uncomfortable, or if it’s because my face probably looks like I want to murder someone. “I was a couple of blocks from the school parking lot. I’d just turned down a side street filled with apartments. There were hardly any cars around. I remember feeling leery, but I had to get home somehow, and it seemed stupid to turn back.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “A car pulled up and someone threw a soda can at my head.”

  What the fuck?

  “I heard them laughing and I started running,” she continues. “A paper bag with food came at me next. I kept running. Then I heard car doors closing and footsteps pounding behind me.”

  Her breathing is shaky, as though she’s reliving the moment. I reach across the table and squeeze her hand so tightly I
have to force myself to ease up.

  “A rain of rocks came hurtling at my back,” she says. “One of them was so large it bruised my shoulder blade and I stumbled, but I didn’t stop. If anything, I became frantic, and that stupid street was so damn long. I was gasping and crying and calling out. And then a fist-sized stone slammed into the back of my skull.” The hand I’m not holding absently touches the back of her head. “I woke up on the ground. They were gone, and I was bleeding.”

  I lean forward. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Furious doesn’t begin to describe what I feel right now, as the woman I…care about…tells me how some dicks could have killed her.

  She tries for a light smile. “If it makes any difference, I don’t think they planned to throw rocks at me. I was running from them—it was one of those heat-of-the-moment things. I called my parents and they found me. They took me to the hospital. I needed a couple of stitches, but otherwise I was fine. But that was it. My parents decided to move, and I supported it because I didn’t want to worry them anymore.”

  Her expression shows a mixture of guilt and nervousness, which I don’t understand. “Why does that bother you? You had no choice. It was dangerous for you to stay.”

  She wraps her arms over her chest and rubs the skin pebbled in gooseflesh on her upper arms. “I didn’t do what the town accused me of, but I allowed them to beat me down. It pissed me off—it still pisses me off.”

  I stand and walk over. Reaching for her hand, I pull her up and take her seat, easing her onto my lap. I brush aside the hair where she touched her head. Sure enough, there’s a small crescent scar beneath.

  I wrap her in my arms and press her cheek to my chest where I can keep her warm and safe. I seriously want to hurt someone—preferably the dicks that attacked her. “Why didn’t the police do anything?”

  “They tried, but it happened so fast I never saw who did it. I was too busy running for my life. The car I described, based on the split-second glance I got before things were being hurled at me, fit the description of half the cars in our high school parking lot. For all I knew, the kids came from another school. The rumor about me wasn’t limited to ours. It spread.”