A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,77

princess, but I didn’t have to see them in the village. Here, I can’t just . . .”

“Hook up with someone casually?”

That was exactly it. “I thought of university as my last chance. But then . . .”

He grinned. “Then you ‘enjoyed yourself’ yesterday?”

“Yes.” More than she had ever “enjoyed herself” at Oxford, in fact.

He did let his legs splay a little more—the term one saw on American social media was manspreading, she thought—as he leaned back and grinned.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she admonished but she couldn’t help mirroring his smile.

“So I think what you’re trying to say, Your Wickedness, is ‘Leo, you rocked my world yesterday.’”

“That’s not at all what I’m trying to say.”

It was, though. It was exactly what she was trying to say.

“I see.” He closed his legs and covered himself fully with the towel, which suddenly seemed like a lost opportunity. “I guess I misunderstood.” He levered himself out of the chair and turned toward the room’s armoire, but not before she caught a twinkle in his eye.

“I’m not sure I would characterize our interlude yesterday as ‘world rocking,’” she lied, because she could tease him, too. “Still, as I said, it was enjoyable.”

“But really, is ‘enjoyable’ a high enough bar?” he called from where he was standing, obscured by the open door of the armoire. “I’m assuming that what you’re proposing would be a big freaking scandal if it came out. That seems like a lot of effort for ‘enjoyable.’”

She bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing as she pretended to give serious consideration to his argument.

“Not to mention Gabby. We’d have to figure out a way to ditch her.”

“Repeatedly.”

“Huh?” Leo stepped out from behind the door, and he was wearing a pair of jeans, which caused a curious little stab of disappointment in her chest.

She cleared her throat. “We’d have to ditch Gabby repeatedly.”

“Because your intention would be to enjoy yourself repeatedly.”

His chest was still bare, so she let herself look. Why not? Clearly they’d long ago abandoned any pretense of propriety. It was broad and dusted in the center with a smattering of dark hair. She ordered herself not to sigh like a lovestruck girl. “As much as I can.”

He started walking, but instead of sitting back in his chair, he kept going until he came to a halt just in front of hers. She couldn’t help but notice, given that she was eye to eye with it, a thin trail of that same dark hair starting at his navel and disappearing into the waistband of his jeans. Those jeans hung low on his hips, exposing V-shaped muscles.

“Tell me what you ‘enjoyed’ about yesterday,” he said, drawing her attention as he made quotation marks with his fingers. He was standing so close to her—though not touching her, it had to be noted—that she had to tilt her head way back to see his face. “But use actual words, not this posh doublespeak. You’re not allowed to use the word ‘enjoy’ anymore.”

All right. She could do this. She’d come this far. “I liked the way you spoke to me.”

It came out softer than she’d intended, and she half expected him to play at not being able to hear her, but he only said, “How did I speak to you?”

“You told me to take what I needed,” she whispered, her face on fire. “You told me to use your leg to make myself come.”

“Dirty talk,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, dirty talk.” That was part of it. That was a lot of it. “But also . . .” He raised his eyebrows. It was hard to explain, even to herself. “You spoke to me like I wasn’t a princess. Like I was a normal woman.”

“Aren’t you?” His expression turned quizzical. “A normal woman, I mean?”

She ignored the question in favor of continuing her explanation—it suddenly felt imperative that she finish. “And you concerned yourself with my pleasure,” she said, finding that she was working out her feelings on the matter as she went. Being forced to articulate them helped unclutter her own mind. “But again, I got the feeling you didn’t do that because of who I was. That it was more a matter of course.”

“That is correct.” His voice had taken on a stilted, almost formal tone. She might even use the word posh he had so recently sneered at. Which was why she was so shocked when that tone was used to deliver the next thing he said: “I