life to be given what she needed. I wait, wanting to give her that without taking my own pleasure. But her climax clenches against my cock and pushes me over. Digging my fingers into her hips, I empty inside her, already thinking of when I will take her again.
I don’t know how it’s been with other men. I only know that this is the part where, in my experience, the girl stumbles off to the loo, and I don’t want Clara going anywhere. Wrapping my arms around her, I draw her to the bed and hold her against my chest. With her in my arms, my racing heart settles. I don’t know what to make of that, especially with her still breathing so heavily against me. I want her to feel the peace she’s given me, so I kiss her forehead. She relaxes instantly, folding into me with an ease I don’t deserve but finding myself wanting. Maybe I’ll always want her—want to fuck her, want to hold her, want to kiss her forehead.
But a man like me doesn’t get stolen kisses and a woman who still blushes when she undresses. We don’t get always.
Chapter Seven
I lose myself in her. When all I want is to watch her fall over the edge again, it takes restraint to stop. Clara needs a break. Her body might be responsive, but she’s never been with a man like me. I can tell by how her teeth sink into her lower lip with every thrust, how her eyes roll back with every touch—she didn’t know it could feel this good. I aim to show her exactly how much she’s been missing, but there’s no need to rush. My self-control slips as she rolls out of bed, stretching against the wall like she’s just finished a rigorous work-out session. But she arches her back a bit too much, putting her perfect, round ass on display. I want her again—the desire tears through me and escapes with a growl. She’s turning me into a goddamn caveman. When I spot the sly grin flash across her face, I realize she’s enjoying it.
I consider lunging for her and dragging her back between the sheets.
“I’m going to take a shower if you care to join me,” she says, her eyes sliding to the undershirt.
It’s a nice tactic, but I’m well-versed in strategic maneuvers. Still… “Tempting, but I’m going to order room service. Any requests?”
“I’m not picky.” She pauses, and I wonder what’s going on in that sexy brain of hers. “Actually, get some champagne.”
“Your wish is my command.” Jumping up, I mean to head toward the phone, but her eyes linger on me. No doubt she appreciates that I don’t bother with pants. But I’m nothing compared to her, even if her gaze continues to follow me as I cross the room.
Not that I mind the admiration. I just want to return it.
She doesn’t look like a woman; she looks like a goddess with her glowing skin and her soft hair cascading over her shoulders. The makeup she’d so carefully applied is now smudged but somehow even sexier. She looks well-fucked, and I like it. If only every afternoon could be spent seeing to her sinful body, life might be worth living. As it is, our time is limited. I intend to make the most of it. Holding out a hand, she takes it with some apprehension. But all I want is to kiss her—to feel her against me—if only to remind me that she’s here and for now, she’s mine. My lips meet hers, and somehow it’s easier to ignore the primal urge to take her again. It doesn’t make sense. My cock isn’t usually so well-behaved. Instead, the taste of her kiss sends my heart racing. It seems my body is getting confused, so I pull back and avoid looking at her, instead smacking her bare ass.
It’s all about perspective. We have an arrangement. “What would you say if I suggested you only wore that around me?”
“I’m not wearing anything.” She sounds almost grateful for the redirection, and I catch myself wondering if she feels it, too.
So much for perspective.
I slip into the role I’m used to playing. Smirking, I charm her by being exactly what we need me to be.
The playboy prince.
The bad boy.
Exactly what they say I am. What I’ll never escape.
“Exactly,” I say. I really wouldn’t mind if she was nude all the time. I’d rather prefer it.
“You’re a bit of a fiend, aren’t