Seducing the Princess

by Diane Alberts

  Because he was most definitely falling for her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Isabelle stretched out on the massage table, which had been set up in her bedroom for privacy’s sake, and closed her eyes. George had apparently decided to send her here as a special gift to his “wonderful” fiancée, and she hadn’t had much choice in the matter when it came to accepting. They were probably on tenuous ground as it was, what with her rejecting his proposal and all, so she didn’t want to offend him. Didn’t want to risk losing everything for her people.

  She’d already lost what she’d wanted. Happiness.

  Truth be told, she was starting to think happy endings were more of a fairytale than actual fairytales. A myth, not to be taken seriously.

  Not when it came to relationships, anyway.

  Princesses don’t pout.

  The door cracked open, and she faced downward. She didn’t want to see the person who would be running his or her hands all over her. It was embarrassing enough that she was stripped naked on a table with nothing more than a sheet covering her lady parts. With two guards watching over her.

  Princesses don’t blush.

  There were some hushed whispers, and then it sounded as if someone left. She hesitated, the hair on the back of her neck rising up. Her heart sped up, too, which was weird. Strong hands lowered on her back. She bit down on her lip. “Hello?”

  “Shh,” the man whispered. “Let’s get you relaxed, hm?”

  His voice sounded a heck of a lot like Gordon’s, but it had to be her mind playing tricks on her.

  She curled her hands into fists. “Thank you.”

  He made a reassuring sound, then starting rubbing her shoulders. Something in her stomach fluttered to life, something that only Gordon had ever awakened, and she clenched her jaw. So…her mind thought the voice was Gordon’s, and her body agreed.

  Fabulous.

  He kneaded her shoulders just like Gordon had all those nights ago, and she bit back a groan. God, this was going to be torture, if her body kept reacting this way. Princesses don’t come on the massage table. Okay, sure, her mother hadn’t told her that—but it had to be a rule.

  It would be very undignified.

  When he trailed his finger over her spine almost tenderly, she stiffened. “Um…” His touch moved lower, massaging her lower back, and her stomach did a flip-flop. “Mm.”

  His hands paused. “That good, Princess Isabelle?”

  “Y-Yes.” She gripped the massage table. “Thank you.”

  “Mmhm.”

  It was crazy. He sounded so much like him.

  If it weren’t for the fact that Gordon wouldn’t fly out here to see her, she’d swear it was him. But she hadn’t been anything more to him than a big, fat paycheck.

  The tips of his fingers almost touched her butt, and she squeezed her thighs together. Geez, this was ridiculous and wrong in so many ways. So. Many. Ways.

  Princesses don’t fantasize about strange men.

  When he massaged the top of her butt, she groaned. Actually groaned.

  He froze, then moved his hands perilously close to her core. “Just remember…you don’t have my permission to come, Princess.”

  Only one man would dare to say those words to her.

  Lifting her head, she stared right at the masseuse who was rubbing her rear end… And then her heart stopped beating. Gordon. It was Gordon. He was here, rubbing her butt, and she had no idea what to think. What to say. How to feel.

  “I know.” He let go of her, rocking back on his heels. “You want to know why I’m here.”

  “You shouldn’t be here. Guards?”

  She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. A quick glance showed that they were alone in the room, with no one to save her from him. No one but herself.

  “They’re not here,” he said unnecessarily.

  “Where did you send them? And why did they listen to you? And why are you here, when I’m naked on a table, and you’re fully dressed?”

  “One question at a time, Princess.”

  He undid the top button of his vest, his brown eyes locked on her. Everything about him made her muscles weak with desire. He wore a gray button up shirt, a vest, and a pair of slacks. There was also some major five o’clock shadow going on, and his artwork was all hidden. Or it was…until his vest hit the floor, and he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “I—” She swallowed past her dry throat. He looked so…so…delicious. But he’d betrayed her. Broken her heart. She refused to want him. Princesses don’t forget past wrongs. “What are you doing?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He quirked a brow. “I’m getting naked, too, so it’s fair.”

  “No.” She gripped the sheet tighter, holding it to her chest over her racing heart. “You need to go. Now.”

  He shook his head slowly, undoing another button. “No. I’m not leaving you again.”

  His words made her want to cry, scream, and cry some more. He’d told her he didn’t care about her, and yet here he was. Telling her he wasn’t leaving her, after all he’d put her through. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

  Curling her hands into fists, she stared him down. “Why did you come here? You made it quite clear how you felt about me the other day.” She lifted her chin up, trying to cling to the last remaining scraps of her dignity. “We have nothing more to say to one another.”

  “Yeah, we do, because I was wrong.” He undid another button, and she watched with wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It wasn’t true. I lied to you.”

  She forced her eyes back up.

  He kept on unbuttoning his shirt, but she stared at his face. It was safer…except when she saw his chocolate brown eyes, with those flecks of amber. Those eyes were addicting. Just like him.

  Oh, who was she kidding?

  Everything about him was dangerous to her self-control.

  She forced her attention on the conversation at hand. “Which time did you lie to me? When you told me you had something to ask me, or when you told me you didn’t want to be with me?”

  “For starters?” He shrugged his shirt off. “When I told you I took the money.”

  Her gaze dipped down over his bare chest. Man, she’d missed that ink. The black swirls and splashes of color. Heck, the muscles, too. All of it. All of him.

  “You mean you didn’t take the money?”

  “No, of course not.” He undid his belt, and her stomach hollowed out. The things he could do with that belt… He smirked, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts were. But that smirk faded away, and he frowned at her with narrow eyes. “And the fact that you believed I would, hurt. I’m not happy you fell for it so easily.”

  She flinched, an apology on the tip of her tongue. But she refused to voice it aloud, even if she would say almost anything to get him to be the Gordon she’d known and come to care for, instead of the man he’d been before she left. He’d told her some horrible things that night. Of course she’d believed him.

  “You presented a pretty strong case,” she said defensively.

  “Yeah. I did.” He pulled the belt out of the loops. “But I’m still not happy you believed those lies. We’ll discuss that later.”

  Licking her lips, she stared at the belt. “What else did you lie about?”

  “Not caring about you.” He slapped his palm with the belt, heading for the door. With his back to her, he locked it. She watched his muscles roll and flex, unable to look away. “That was a lie, too.”

  “It…was?”

  “Yeah.” Tossing the belt to the side, he turned back her way. His hands went to the button of his pants, and he undid it with a flick of his wrist. She could count the tight ripples on his stomach, and all she wanted to do was trace the outline of each and every one. “I care. I care a lot. And…I’m…” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Belle.”

  The significance of that apology wasn’t taken lightly. He’d told her he never apologized
, and yet here he was. Saying the words. She gripped the sheet tighter. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” He unzipped his pants. “So damn much it hurt.”

  Nodding, she blinked back tears. Princesses don’t cry. “You hurt me. You hurt me so much, Gordon. You have no idea.”

  “I know, and I’m so sorry for that, Belle. I’ll say it a million times if that’s what it takes to make you take me back. If that’s what it takes to get you to forgive me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stalked across the room, his stride sure and steady. Like him. “I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing. Thought pushing you away would save you in the end.”

  “It didn’t.” He blurred in front of her, due to the annoying tears. “You ruined everything, and it’s too late now.”

  “It’s never too late for us. For this.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brushed away her tears, and his eyes ached with regret. “I can’t lose you. We might have only met a few days ago, a short blink in the void of time and space, but I can’t live without you. I can’t be the guy who regrets losing the woman he loved for the rest of his fucking life.”

  Her heart wrenched. “L-Love?”

  “Yes. Love.” He smiled at her, his brown eyes so tender and sweet that it almost broke her heart. “Princess Isabelle, I don’t really know what love is, but I think I love you. I think I fell in love with you that first night we ran in the rain together, but I know for a fact that I don’t want to live in a world where you’re not with me.”

  “I think I fell for you, too,” she admitted, laughing. “Is this seriously happening?”

  “This is seriously happening.” He kissed the spot under her eye where she had a small freckle. “I will spend the rest of my life making that one night up to you. I want to make you happy, Belle. All you have to do is say yes…” He hovered by her lips, but didn’t touch. “…and ask me nicely.”

  Yes. God, yes.

  Of course she wanted him. Of course she wanted this.

  But…she couldn’t have it. He was saying all the right things, but she was already engaged to another man. She’d already agreed to marry George. After jerking the guy around three different times, could she back out again? Would her parents let her?

  He didn’t know about her fiancé yet. And when he found out, he’d leave. Again. And after all she’d done to get here, it was painful to even contemplate. “Gordon…I…”

  “Hm?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What is it?”

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes, no matter how much I want to. You see…” She closed her eyes. “I’m already engaged. Again. After you said what you said, I gave up. I said I’d marry George.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyes flew open. “You know?”

  “Your mother told me on the plane.” He smiled at her and slipped his hand into his pocket. “But you don’t know what she did.”

  “My mother told you? Wait, did she come get you? Is that where she went?”

  “Yep. Turns out, your parents never contacted George at all. They knew what you really wanted, and they set about making it happen.”

  She blinked, but her pulse skyrocketed. If her mother had brought him here, then all might not be lost. Maybe there was a way for her to actually get what she wanted and not hurt anyone in the process. She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

  He laughed and rubbed his jaw. “I’m still adjusting to the fact that out of all the princes in the world, you want me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re a prince, too.”

  He smiled. “The prince of all things raunchy, maybe.”

  A little laugh escaped her. She couldn’t wrap her head around any of this. It was like a dream. A wonderful, wonderful dream. “Let me get this straight. My mom came to your door, told you to come home with her…and you went? Just like that?”

  “Yep, she knocked on my door, and I left with Georgie that same night to try and come win you over.” He bent down on one knee, a ring in his hand. It sparkled, with a princess cut diamond on a white gold band. It was perfect. “How am I doing so far?”

  “Oh my God.”

  His lips twitched up into that cocky grin she loved so darn much. “So…I have a question to ask you.”

  She covered her mouth, forgetting all about the sheet. It fell to her lap, and his gaze dipped low. When he returned his attention northward, his stare held a heat in it that made her shiver with anticipation. “Go on. Ask me.”

  “Princess Isabelle VanGuard the Third…will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife? I vow to spend all my days supporting you, and all my nights making you scream out in pleasure. I promise not to be bossy—too much, unless we’re in bed—and I promise to know when to shut up and when to stand up and take over. I will be your partner. Your lover. Your husband. Your royal consort.” He took a deep breath, and she blinked tears back. “I don’t know a damn thing about running a country, but I know you can teach me. Just like I can teach you how to have fun. To run in the rain, and dance in the streets, and be free. Will you marry me…please?”

  “You asked me nicely,” she said, grinning so wide it hurt her cheeks. “So how could I possibly say no? Yes, you silly man. Yes, I’ll marry you!”

  “Fuck, yeah. Thank God.”

  He clasped the back of her neck, his touch firm yet gentle, and kissed her. As his mouth melded to hers perfectly, she let out a little sigh and opened her lips. He seized control the second her mouth parted, sweeping his tongue inside to entwine with hers. She moaned and gripped his bare shoulders, the need he brought out in her wakening instantly. “I missed you so much.”

  “Me, too, Belle. Me, too.” He slid his hands down to her thighs, hauling her to the edge of the massage table they’d brought into her room. He slipped inside her thighs, his chest brushing against her core in a teasing touch. His fingers skimmed over her naked breasts, feather light. “So damn much. I need to touch you. Taste you. Love you. Fuck you.”

  She tossed her head back and closed her eyes, burying her hands in his hair. With a jerk of her wrist, she tugged hard enough to sting. “Do it. Now. Don’t torture me. Don’t tease me. Just take me.”

  “First of all? You didn’t ask me nicely.” He squeezed her nipples between his fingers. “And second? I’m not ready yet.”

  She groaned and tried to tighten her thighs around him, but he held her in place with his body. “God, you’re so…so…ugh.”

  “Love you, too, Princess.”

  He nipped her left shoulder, then dipped lower to her breast. Without warning, he flicked his tongue over the distended bud, then sucked her in deep.

  “Gordon,” she cried out, clinging to his hair, and arched her back. “Please.”

  He released her with a smacking sound of his lips. “Mm. So fucking delicious. I might have to taste every inch of you tonight, and more.”

  Princesses don’t beg.

  “Yes, please,” she said.

  “Not good enough,” he said, laughing. Then he closed his mouth over her other nipple, sucking hard and scraping his teeth over her. “More.”

  “I said please, damn it,” she said, punching his shoulder. “Ugh.”

  He moved lower, nipping the skin right above her hip, and slipped his fingers between her thighs. When he brushed against her aching core, she moaned and leaned back on the table, spreading her thighs wider. Begging without begging.

  And she knew before he was finished with her…

  She’d be begging for mercy.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Gordon moved lower, nipping the skin of her thigh as he dipped his head down. After all that stress and worry, he couldn’t believe he was here. With Belle in his arms again. This time, he wouldn’t let her go. This time, she’d be his forever. He’d make sure of that. He’d seen what his life would be like if she wasn’t his, and it had been bleak.
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  Really fucking bleak.

  Yanking the sheet off, he spread her thighs wide and looked down at her. What a pretty picture she made, all rosy lips and wet, glistening skin. He ran a finger over her slit, playing with her as he watched her writhe beneath him.

  She moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders. “Gordon.”

  “Hm?” He thrust a finger inside of her, rubbing up against her G-spot, and then withdrew. “Did you need something, Princess?”

  She rocked her hips against his mouth. “You. Please.”

  He watched her through his lowered lids, loving the way she begged for his touch with every writhe, thrash, and whimper she made. “You need your punishment first.”

  “For what?” Her pink tongue darted out, leaving a wet trail behind on her lips. “What did I do?”

  “You kissed him.” His grip tightened on her thighs. “And you thought I used you.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, her bright green eyes latched on him. Sitting up, she grabbed his waistband and looked up at him. “May I, please?”

  Clenching his jaw, he nodded once. Since he’d already undone his zipper, she easily tugged them down. He curled his hands into balls. This was going to be torture—the best kind. His pants hit the ground, and she massaged him through his boxer briefs. Her fingers closed around him, and she jerked, making his balls and his muscles tighten.

  “Jesus, Belle.”

  “Don’t worry.” She tugged his underwear down, watching him through those dark brown lashes of hers. “I won’t be mean.”

  Closing his fist in her hair, he urged her close. Her hot breath washed over his dick, and he shuddered. “Damn right you won’t. Now fuck me with that sweet little mouth of yours.”

  Without another word, she obeyed.

  Her mouth closed around him, and she sucked him in deep, hollowing her cheeks out. Groaning, he pumped his hips a little, testing her out. She took more of him in, her eyes drifting shut. The sight of her mouth around his cock was fucking amazing, and he needed to be inside of her. Now.

  Even though the urgency to be buried deep inside her was strong, he remained still, letting her work him over. She let out a little moan and cupped his balls, her feather light touch making him grow way too close to coming. “Enough.”