“You’d be surprised how much I can do,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve got more to me than you think.”
He froze mid-step. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. It is.” She placed her hands on his back, shoving him forward. “Now get that stubborn ass of yours moving—please.”
He smirked. Yeah. He definitely liked this feisty side of her much more than the nervous and cautious one. “Right away.”
“Thank you,” she answered primly.
He turned right at the top of the stairs and opened his bedroom door, then switched the light on. Normally, his puppy, Georgie, would be perched on the end of the bed, but he was at a buddy’s house tonight. Gordon hadn’t been planning on coming home until morning, so he’d gotten a dog sitter. His small room was dominated by the king size bed, and he’d left his robe tossed over the left corner of his pillow.
He stalked over to it and picked it up, before turning to face her with it in his hand. “You don’t mind brown, right?”
“No. Of course not.” Her eyes fell on his bed. “Is this your bedroom?”
“Yeah.”
She peeked at him before looking back at the bed. “Are you… Are you married?”
“Hell no.”
Another quick glance, but then she glanced back at him and held his gaze. “You have something against marriage?”
“No.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “I just haven’t met anyone I wanted to marry yet, is all.”
She pursed her lips. “You’re telling me that huge bed is just for you?”
“I didn’t say that,” he said, grinning. “I’m not always alone in it. I just don’t marry the girls I bring home, if you catch my drift.”
“Catch your…?” She shook her head. “Never mind. You’re asking if I understand you.”
“Yep. I’m saying I prefer the more temporary arrangements when it comes to passion. The ones of the one-night variety. At least…for now, I do.” He grinned when she stared at him blankly, not moving. “How about you? You like to stick to one-night stands with all the princes you meet at fancy masquerade balls?”
Her cheeks went red. “That’s none of your business. And I’m not getting in that bed with you tonight, if that’s what you’re leading up to.”
“What? No.” He laughed, a hand pressed to his stomach. “Believe me, Princess. If I invited you into my bed, you wouldn’t have to ask me if that’s what I meant. You’d know exactly what I wanted. I’d make sure you knew what I wanted, so you could give it to me. And you could be damn certain I’d give it to you, too.”
She shook her head, her lower lip caught between her perfect white teeth. What he wouldn’t give to do the same thing to her. To taste her. He’d bet she tasted like mint. Fresh and clean, all the time. “You say the boldest things.”
“If you say so.” His gaze dropped down her body, lingering on her pink, rosy nipples. “So, are you married? Engaged? Got a cute yodeling boy waiting for you back home?”
She laughed, the sound properly prim. Everything about her was proper. “No. No yodeling boy. No husband,” she hesitated, “and no fiancé…yet.”
“I find that hard to believe.” He gave her the once-over, lingering on all her sweet curves and dips. “A girl like you has to have a guy.”
She shrugged, a lost look crossing over her expression. “I don’t bother with relationships, because more than likely, I will marry for country ties. For unity. For money.” She took a step closer. “Not for love. Love doesn’t exist in my world.”
He studied her, not sure what to say to that. He couldn’t imagine living like that and didn’t want to, but she was okay with it. He shook his head slightly. “You ready to get out of that dress?”
“Yes.” She walked toward him, her steps bold and yet hesitant, all at once. “Could you assist me?”
His mouth dried out. “Excuse me?”
“Unzip me.” She gave him her back, glancing over her shoulder at him as she did so. “I usually have a maid to help me, but…”
He swallowed hard, staring at the bare glimpse of shoulder and neck she gave him as she swept her hair to the side. Her hair had dried a bit, but it was still damp against the side of her neck. He wanted to sink his teeth into it as he plunged his fingers inside of her. As he made her scream out his name.
Damn it, what was with this girl that he couldn’t shake her? That he wanted her so badly? Maybe he needed to get laid, pure and simple. It had been a while.
Clearing his throat, he stepped closer. Close enough to discover how fabulous she smelled. “Sure. Yeah. Right away.”
He unzipped her dress, inch by torturous inch. Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers over the soft, pale skin of her back as he did so. And, fuck him, she ate it up. Loved it. Wanted more. He could tell by the way she kept catching her breath, then letting it out in a soft whoosh. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. As more and more of her spine became visible, he got closer to losing control.
When he reached the bottom of her zipper, his fingers lingering at the small of her back, he moved close enough for his chest to touch her back. Her swift intake of breath hit him like a fist to the gut. She was as attracted to him as he was to her, which only made it harder to behave. Maybe he should stop trying.
Lowering his head, he dropped a soft kiss on the nape of her neck. She gasped and tilted her head, granting him better access. Groaning, he kissed her again, pressing his lips a little harder against her soft skin that time. He released the zipper and spanned his hands out over her hips, holding her in place. Keeping her where he wanted her.
She let out a soft moan, making his dick harden in response. One word. One slight movement toward him, and she’d be his. He’d make her come so many times she’d forget what it felt like to be a proper princess.
She’d never want to be one again.
He straightened a little bit, his mouth a fraction of an inch from her ear. She shivered and leaned back ever so slightly. It was all the encouragement he needed. With his teeth, he caught her lobe and nibbled on it just enough to sting. She let out a soft whimper, her cheeks flushing with life. “Gordon.”
He stepped even closer, his cock almost brushing her sweet ass. “Anything else you require from me, Princess?”
“I want…”
“I know what you want.” He nibbled on her shoulder. “And if you want it, I’ll give it to you. I’m not in the business of denying myself a night of fun if both parties are interested. We could have one night together. All you have to do is ask me nicely.”
“I can’t do that,” she protested. “There are expectations. Duties.”
“Do I look like I’m expecting more than a night of fucking from you?” He lowered his hand over the flat of her stomach, creeping toward her pussy. “Let go of the stress. Of the constant worry about what everyone will think of you if you do something fun for once. I won’t tell if you won’t…”
She moaned, leaning back against his chest. “God.”
“Just for one night, whatever you’d like, it’s yours. I’d give it to you, no questions asked.” His hand went lower, brushing over the line of her panties. “I’m sure you’re used to that, right? Getting what you want all the time?”
Her lids had been drifting shut, but at the end of his sentence, they flew open and she stiffened. She closed her hands over his, stopping their slow descent to her core. “Y-Yes. I am accustomed to a certain lifestyle—thank you so much for reminding me. I’d like the wine you so kindly offered to be waiting for me downstairs, after I get out of this dress, and I’d like privacy, please.” She paused, a slight shiver rippling through her. “Straight away.”
And just like that? The spell she’d woven over him unraveled.
He let go of her, knowing that to her, he’d always be the equivalent of her servant boy, and nothing more. She was used to elegance, riches, and people fawning over her.
She wasn’t used to him and never would be. He’d best remember that.
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?”
“In front of the fireplace, downstairs in my living room,” he said, his gaze never dropping. “Follow me.”
Anywhere.
She walked behind him, staring at his hard back as he went. Every step he took, the muscles flexed and played, making her fingers even itchier to touch him. To see what all those muscles would feel like under her fingertips. To have so much power leashed beneath her would be heady. Addicting. Fun. And she could really use some fun in her life.
She didn’t even really know what fun was, but she instinctively knew that he did. That he could show her a good time, and then some more. She wanted to collect.
When he turned left at the bottom of the stairs, he led her into a sitting room with a light blue couch, a matching loveseat, a table, and a gas fireplace—which was on. On the table sat a glass of red wine, waiting for her. He’d also set out some cheese for her. It was such a domestic scene that it gave her pause.
He was a surprise, in more ways than one.
“Thank you,” she said again, sitting down on the edge of the sofa and adjusting her robe over her legs properly. “This is delightful.”
He watched her with amusement in his eyes. “Ever the prim princess.”
“Why do insist on doing that?” she asked, picking up the wine with a forced calm. “Must you throw my title around as if it’s this awful disease I have? I’m no different than you, despite my status. I’m simply human.”
He walked out without replying. And she watched him go, unable to believe the man could be so rude…and yet so attractive, all at the same time. She should report him for his insolence. Demand a replacement. But she didn’t want to.
So, she didn’t.
She took a big gulp of wine, ignoring the fact that she’d barely had a bite to eat at dinner. Princesses didn’t really eat a full meal when in plain sight—they ate in the privacy of their own homes. That way there was no risk of being caught on camera with something as undignified as food in your mouth. Or worse? On your face. She took another big sip, eyeing the cheese. She was starving.
Princesses don’t shove food in their faces.
“Oh, just eat it already,” Gordon said from the door. He relaxed against the frame, his arms crossed and a frown on his handsome face. As per the usual, ever since he realized it was her in that hallway. “You’re obviously hungry.”
“I just ate,” she protested.
“Bull. You pushed food around your plate.” He shoved off the wall and stalked across the room. “You didn’t eat a damn thing. Let me guess?” He mimicked her voice. “‘Princesses don’t eat in public.’”
“Princesses don’t eat in public,” she agreed. “Not copious amounts of food, anyway.”
“You’re not in public.”
“I’m not alone, either.” She stared back at him, her grip on the wine glass so tight she couldn’t believe it didn’t snap. And she’d drank it all, too. How had that happened so fast? She never drank like this. Princesses don’t over imbibe. “You’re here.”
“Who am I that I matter?” He sat down beside her, too close for comfort, and plucked her glass out of her hand. “I promise you that I won’t take a picture of you with cheese dripping down your chin, and sell it to People.”
She laughed. “I never insinuated you would. But—”
He shoved a piece of cheese into her mouth, making her choke on her own words…not to mention the cheese. She chewed quickly, glowering at him the whole time.
“What?” He poured her another glass of wine, his shoulders trembling
with laughter as he did so. “You looked hungry. It’s my duty to make sure you’re safe, dry, alive, satisfied, and fed. It’s in my contract.”
She swallowed. “Actually, you only have to keep me safe. I’ve got other people for the rest of that.”
“I’m sure you do, but they’re not here with us.” He handed her another full glass of wine, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Tell me. Do you brush your own hair, or does someone do it for you?”
“Depends on my mood,” she retorted. Though, most of the time her stylist did it. “Do you brush your own hair?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. I dress myself, too.”
“I can tell,” she shot back.
He threw his head back and let out a full-bellied laugh. It did weird things to her insides. Namely…her lady parts. “Are you insulting my style, Princess?”
“Maybe. Then again…maybe not.” She glanced at the empty cup he hadn’t touched. “Where’s your wine?”
“I’m on the job.” He gave her a pointed look. “And I don’t drink on duty.”
“Then consider yourself off-duty.” She gave him her best princess in command look. “I’ll be insulted if you don’t drink. My whole country will be insulted if you don’t drink with me. You alone could be responsible for starting World War Three. Choose your next words carefully.”
He snorted. “So be it. I’m not drinking, because in a few minutes I’ll have to drive you back to the hotel. After you’re safely in your room, I’ll crash on the couch outside your door and make sure no one comes to kidnap you. I can’t do that drunk.”
She stared at him, the wine making her head spin in circles already. She rarely drank, and when she did, it was only a sip here and there. Not a whole glass…and then more. The second glass he’d given her was already half empty. How had that happened?
And then a dangerous thought hit her mind. Sure, she’d stopped him earlier in his bedroom because he’d made a rude remark. But what was stopping her from crawling into bed with Gordon now?
What was stopping her from having a little bit of fun, for once in her long, prim, proper life? Nothing. That was what.
Seducing the Princess Page 4