Lone Prince (Royally Unexpected #7) - Lilian Monroe Page 0,38

my eyes drift to the left, where a blank wall has been covered with dozens of paintings. Big and small, they cover the space. I drift over to them, eyes widening.

“Is this…?” I peer at the first painting, recognizing some of the sketches from the archives, where they’d been reproduced in history books.

“My great-great-grandfather painted that. I might have missed a great in there.” The Prince grins. “He lived here full-time.”

“That’s what the palace used to look like?”

“He helped design it. Showed this painting to the architects and builders, and they made it happen.”

My jaw hangs open as I stare at him. “This is the original painting?”

Dipping his chin down, he lets his hand sweep across my lower back. His touch feels so good, I find myself leaning into it. We take a step over, staring at the next set of paintings. A view from the castle out to the meadows in full bloom. A brown bear is in the foreground with a cub.

I shake my head. “Gorgeous.”

“When it was first built, the palace served as a place to hold court, too. There were offices and community events here. It was the real seat of power in the kingdom.”

“And that changed when Stirling became the capital?”

“Sometime in the last hundred years, the Summer Palace became a vacation home for the royal family. The gates were made taller, and it was closed off from the public, except for approved tours during periods my family isn’t here.”

“You don’t agree with that?”

Wolfe lets out a sigh, pinching his lips together. “I think we have an opportunity to give this place back to the people. Show the people that the royal family remembers where we came from.”

I nod, my eyes lingering on the Prince. He stares at the centuries-old paintings, a wistful look in his eyes. I wonder, not for the first time, who this man really is. Is he the cold, rude man I first thought? Or is he a man who’s seen trauma, death, grief—and wants to give something back?

“What’s your vision for the Summer Palace?” I ask.

The Prince flashes a smile at me. “You’re the architect.”

“You’re the client. You’ve already shot down my first design. I need direction.”

“We can’t spend millions making a beautiful palace that will look good on postcards,” the Prince says after a pause. “This has to mean something more.”

“An homage to Nord’s birthplace.”

“You’ve been doing research,” he says.

I grin. “You gave me a serious dressing-down when I first got here about not understanding the place.” I flush, shaking my head at my choice of words. “I mean a reprimand.”

Just a slip of the tongue. It doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

The Prince pounces, grinning. “I gave you a dressing-down, too. And I’d do it again.”

I shove my shoulder against him, turning my back to him to hide my blush. “I don’t believe you were the one to undress me. There was a doctor and a bodyguard there. One of them would have done it.”

The Prince leans in so his breath tickles the edge of my ear. “You have a mole just above your belly button.”

My eyes widen as I stare straight ahead. “You…”

“Right about here,” he says, letting his fingers drift over my stomach. Heat pools beneath his palm as my head spins. Wolfe chuckles, leaning into me. His smell is everywhere. Woodsy and spicy and so deliciously male. I inhale him, not wanting to step away. His chest is so broad against my back.

Why did I refuse him earlier, again? Why wouldn’t I tilt my chin up and let him kiss me?

“I’m attracted to you,” I say, staring at the wall.

“I know.”

Rolling my eyes, I turn my head and glance up at him. “But,” I start. “I don’t think acting on it is a good idea.”

“You said that.”

“You disagree?”

“Completely.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, watching Wolfe’s eyes darken. Amber pools of desire stare at me, tempting. Asking. Promising something good. His hand slides from my stomach down lower, resting just above my mound.

Yes, I want this. I want his hand to move lower still. To touch me. Feel how wet he makes me. Let me come apart in his arms before I have to leave this place again.

Would it really be that bad if I gave in to temptation?

I turn to face the Prince, letting my hands slide up his chest. Every bump of muscle sends shivers tumbling down my veins. His body is insane. My hands wrap around the nape of his neck, twisting into the