her eyes. “There’s just a lot going on right now.”
I can’t resist any longer. I slide my hand over her jaw and cup her cheek, bringing my lips to hers. I don’t want to kiss her like I did last night—all wild and rough. I want to cherish her. Adore her. Worship her.
Margot is strong, yet fragile. She’s complicated and intelligent, and she doesn’t get enough credit. She faces all the things that I’ve shied away from with her shoulders thrown back and a smile on her face.
She makes me realize how lucky I truly am to have had the privacy I’ve enjoyed.
I part my lips, needing to taste her mouth. Swiping my tongue over her lower lip, I groan. How is it possible for one woman to taste so good?
Margot’s hands sink into my shoulders, pulling me closer. She moans, tangling her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck as her body melts into mine. Her chest presses against mine, and I feel her hardened nipples through her shirt.
My hand drifts to her breast. I need to have it in my hand. I need to brush my thumb over her pebbled nipple, and I need to feel her body against mine. I run my hands down her sides, cupping her ass and pulling her closer.
Margot grinds her hips into me, moaning as our kiss gets messier. My lips miss hers and I kiss her jaw, her lower lip. I nip at her, tasting her again as she kisses me harder. Our hot breath sends small clouds dissipating into the cold fridge, but I don’t feel anything except the heat of Margot’s body.
Fire ignites in my veins, and my shaft hardens to steel.
I want to be inside her.
I need to be inside her.
There’s never been a woman so surprising, so beautiful, so fucking perfect in her imperfections, and she’s the woman for me.
12
Margot
As soon as the Prince’s lips touch mine, all my hesitations dissolve into nothing.
He’s Beckett’s brother? Doesn’t matter.
He doesn’t know I’m pregnant? Irrelevant.
I have an incurable illness that will ravage my body over the next couple of decades? Inconsequential.
I only met him two days ago, and I know we’ll never really be together? Beside the point.
Dante’s lips are soft, and his touch is possessive. He drops his hand between my legs, and my panties are immediately drenched. As he touches me through the fabric of my pants, a moan slips through my lips.
“Anyone could walk in,” I breathe, clawing him closer. I kiss his lips, his jaw, his neck.
“Let them.”
Prince Dante slips his hand under my shirt. The heat of his palm against my skin sends sparks shooting through my veins. Heat blooms in the pit of my stomach, teasing the edges of my womb.
My heart thumps.
This is exactly the out-of-control feeling that I’ve been trying to avoid. Being with Dante is a high. It’s a clear and bright high that makes me feel incredible—but it’s a high nonetheless. He’s a drug.
When he runs his hands up my sides and cups my breast, the protests in my head melt away.
Just because I’ve been having issues doesn’t mean I need to deny myself every pleasure that exists. I won’t go into a tailspin just because I kiss a man.
Is this just a kiss, though? It feels like so much more than that.
Dante drops his head to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses down to my collarbone. His breath makes goosebumps blossom on my skin, sending more heat diving toward my center.
I don’t protest when he unbuttons my jeans. I don’t stop him when he slips his hand between my legs.
I want him. Badly.
Angling my hips toward him, I let out a sigh as his fingers slide against my wetness. He grunts, staring into my eyes. There are no words anymore. We don’t need them. A look, a sound, a touch—that’s more than enough to say what we feel.
With my eyes, I tell him I want more. With the rocking of my hips, I tell him his hand feels like magic. With a soft moan, I tell him that I never want him to stop.
Dante emits electricity from the tips of his fingers. Everywhere he touches comes alive, and I come apart.
My hands claw at the shelves behind me, knocking a few pastries to the ground. We ignore them. They don’t matter. Nothing matters except the Prince’s hand between my legs. He kisses my neck, my ear, my jaw, my lips. He slips his fingers inside