The Billionaire's Princess - Ava Ryan Page 0,31

slow down. I don’t mean to sound like a lovesick teenager, but every hour without him now seems excruciating. Which means that the last several days have taken several years off my life, as has the constant spin of thoughts inside my foolish head.

Where is Damon right now? Who’s he with? Is he thinking of me? Will he text soon? Call soon? Will he come on Saturday? Should I tell him that I’ve scheduled tea with my grandmother so I can tell her about my broken engagement while I’m here?

And the big one:

Does Damon think about me half as much as I think about him?

I can only pray that none of my growing obsession with him shows on my face.

And thank God that his lust for me finally shows on his after I’ve spent this whole long day with his impassive expression.

“How’re you doing over there, princess?” he asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his voice silky.

“Very well, indeed.” I mirror his position, knowing full well that it gives him a tantalizing view of my cleavage. “You?”

Sure enough, his attention dips. Lingers. Snags on my lips on the way back up to my eyes.

“Come over here and find out.”

I study the look on his face. The chair. The sofas. It’s not hard to imagine him taking me hard and fast against, say, the antique console in the corner before my father returns.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I tell him.

“It’s a very bad idea. Come anyway.”

Well, what can I say? It’s not like the outcome was ever in any doubt.

I join him on the sofa, sitting as close as humanly possible without sitting on his lap. Like he did the night we met, he puts an arm around me, anchoring his hand on my opposite hip. Shifts me even closer. All without looking me in the eye. Then he takes my hand and presses a hard kiss to it, surprising me with his fervency. When his heated gaze finally flickers up to mine, I feel scorched.

Marked.

“You should stop looking at me like that,” I murmur, running the backs of my fingers across his tender lips and enjoying his subtle shiver. “I can’t very well fuck you on my father’s sofa, can I?”

“We’re perilously close to finding out. Did you talk to your grandmother yet?”

“I’m having tea with her on Thursday. Only time she was free.”

He gives me a narrowed look as he keeps possession of my hand, lowering it to his thigh. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Thursday.”

“No further ties with Percy?”

“Well, he’s texted me several times since the cocktail party. Hopefully, we’ll be friends. We’ve always been friends if nothing else.”

He nods, looking mollified. I enjoy the moment of quiet understanding between us, with nothing further needing to be said. It occurs to me that I’m poised to fall—and fall hard—for this man I barely know. It also occurs to me that I give zero cares.

“Did you miss me while I was gone, princess?”

I laugh. If only he knew how stupid a question he’d just asked. The inside of my brain has been plastered with his smile and laugh, his eyes, hair, body and everything else. Honestly, it looks like the walls inside the room of some teenage girl who’s plastered images of the current boy band over every available inch.

I raise a brow. “Is my father fond of gilt?”

Damon grins that naughty and heart-stopping grin at me, all white teeth, dimples and sparkling eyes. And it occurs to me, not for the first time, that maybe I’ve already done a lot more falling than I thought.

He makes a show of looking around. Taking it all in. The stately home. The silk and chintz. The antiques, priceless art and fine rugs. The vases from several Chinese dynasties and the gilt on every frame and many tables and chairs.

“Well, it’s nothing if not understated,” he says, making me laugh hard enough to cause any nearby servants to peer around corners to see what’s going on.

“I know. Imagine me trying to bring friends round from school for play dates.”

“I imagine all your friends lived in similar houses,” he says.

“Not true. Because my mom sent me to a school with lots of American kids so I’d be normal. How’d it work?”

“Didn’t work at all. Nothing about you is normal.”

Honestly, I feel like a hothouse orchid flourishing under all this attention.

“Don’t flirt, sir. I know you’re just trying to get laid.”

There’s that pirate’s grin again. “Both things can be true.