Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,23
I see his hard eyes. His sharp, angular face. His mistrust. The words die on my lips. I gulp, watching him swallow the last of my dinner roll. “I was going to eat that.”
The Prince grins. “Oops.” He crosses the room in four long steps, sitting down in a plush armchair that faces me. With his head propped in his hand, he looks at me just like he did in the security lodge when I first woke up.
Like he wants to eat me and kill me and fuck me, and he’s just trying to decide which one to choose.
My heart hammers and I do my best to swallow past the mass in my throat. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’ve organized for the plane to take you to Stirling to see your grandmother as soon as it’s safe to fly,” he says without preamble. “It might be a couple of days, though. Maybe a week or so. They don’t know how long the storm will last.”
I gape at him. Jaw on the floor. Catching flies, my mouth is so wide. “You…You did?”
“Is it so surprising that I’d do something nice for you?” His brow arches.
“Um, yes.” I frown, leaning back in my chair. I cross my arms. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You’re right. Your grandmother’s health isn’t a bargaining chip, and I apologize for implying it was before.”
I stare at him for a beat. “You apologize? As in, you’re sorry?”
“Yes.” He dips his chin, eyes still on mine.
“I was right, and you were wrong. That’s what you’re saying?”
“Careful,” he growls, still grinning. “But yes. You were right. I was wrong.”
“Did you bump your head? This doesn’t sound like you.”
The Prince chuckles. It’s a warm sound that sends little thrills rushing down my spine. More. I want him to laugh all the time. I want him to smile wide and show me he’s really human.
But his chuckle fades, and the Prince shakes his head. “You really have no desire to show deference, do you?”
“Is that what you’re into? Chicks who show deference?” I wiggle my eyebrows when I repeat his words. I’m not even sure what the innuendo means, but the Prince’s eyes flash. Heat whips around my core, blazing all the way down through my thighs. My cheeks warm, but I force myself not to look away.
His jaw tenses, but it’s the only evidence that he’s anything but relaxed. Staring at his fingernails, he shrugs. “I happen to like women who can hold their own.”
Eyes flick to me. His meaning is clear.
He likes women like me.
My brain blares on high alert.
No. No, no, no. Danger. Wild, savage beast ahead. Run. Fast. Now.
My body, on the other hand, is currently melting into a sopping wet puddle, enjoying every lick of the Prince’s gaze as it travels up and down my body.
He pushes himself off the armchair, taking slow, measured steps toward me. I inhale, fighting to stay alert as his scent floods my nostrils.
God, he smells good. Like really good. Good enough that anytime he’s near, every sense tunes in to him. Every cell in my body sings with pure delight, wanting to melt into his arms and inhale him forever.
He puts both hands on the arms of my swivel chair, caging me in. His face hovers in front of mine and for a long, long moment, I think he might kiss me.
Those lips on mine. His hot mouth tasting me. Taking me. Owning me.
Yes, I want that. I want it so, so bad. I didn’t even know what want felt like until I could feel his hot breath on my neck.
The Prince’s lips drift over my cheek, close enough that I can feel the soft curve of them. It sends fire tumbling through my veins and I squeeze my thighs together. Everything is needy. Everything wants him.
Then, a whisper. “If you were planning on wearing those lacy black panties for anyone, just make sure it’s for me.”
He pulls away, a cocky smirk tugging his lips.
My face is on fire. “You looked through my underwear?”
“I happened upon them while I was looking for your identification,” the Prince responds, touching his finger to my cheek. His thumb drifts over my chin as he tilts my head up to look at him.
Why does he have to be so big? So strong? So freaking beautiful?
“Good night, Rowan.” The Prince says my name in a way that makes everything too sensitive. My clothing prickles against my skin. My underwear rubs every sensitive part of me.