I feel the prick of tears and try to will them away.
“Maddie and I—my sister—lost our parents when they drove off the road that winds along the mountain’s edge. The river was deeper than five feet where their car plunged in.” A single tear escapes, and he brushes it away, the gesture too sweet. Too intimate. “I was too young to remember them but not too young to develop a fear of the water. The funny thing is, Maddie says I was an excellent swimmer from a young age, but it’s like my mind has blocked that part out. So...here we are.”
He runs a hand through his soaked black hair. “You should have told me,” he says again, and I startle to see the intensity in his eyes. “You have choice, Kate. With me. Nothing is an order. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
He places a hand behind my neck and lowers me to the ground, my body a willing accomplice.
“You will find me a royal bride,” he says, hovering over me. A bead of water drips off his skin and splashes near the corner of my lips. It takes all my self-restraint not to lick it.
“Yes.”
“I will not love her,” he adds.
“I know,” I whisper.
“I cannot love anyone.” His voice is a low vibration, one I feel in his chest against mine.
“I know,” I say again, cursing the beating of my heart that seems to speed up the nearer he gets. We might be from two different worlds, but we have that much in common. I can love, but I won’t. Not when I’ve known so much loss.
“But I want you,” he says, his breath warm against my lips.
“I want you, too,” I admit.
He flicks out his tongue, running it along my bottom lip, and I grind my pelvis into his.
“Do you choose this, Kate? Do you choose what I’m offering?”
My body has already complied. All that’s left is my voice.
“I do, Your Highness.”
“Call me Nikolai.”
I let out a trembling breath. “I do—Nikolai.” His name tastes as delicious as his hungry mouth.
He kisses me, long and slow and deep until my toes curl and my core is on fire.
“Say my name again,” he growls, his erection firm against my aching clit.
“Nikolai,” I whisper, and his tongue plunges into my mouth again.
I may have the freedom of choice, but I also have the wisdom to know this is a foolish one to make. I’ll have to add a note in my planner to regret this sometime tomorrow.
Nikolai
I BURY MY fingers into her thick coil of auburn hair and pull, not hard, but enough to deepen our kiss. Kate’s tears place me on unfamiliar ground. The story of her loss threatens to undo my expertly built defenses. I don’t know how to tell her this, but in some ways, I understand her pain. Once upon a time, many years ago, a car accident changed my own world. She and I share an unexpected connection, both forever marked by a tragedy that changed the course of our lives.
Damn it. My pulse thunders in my ears. I don’t want to be curious about Kate, to be interested in her as a person and not another notch in my belt. I channel my frustration into tangling my tongue with hers, demanding more, demanding everything, and she moans into my open mouth, offering herself freely.
My chest tightens like a vise. I gasp a mumbled curse. This kiss is taking over, filling my veins, replacing the blood. Slow the fuck down. Keep it physical. Remember that’s my MO—making women cry out my name and wanting nothing more in return than my own physical release. I reach down to circle my thumbs over her peaked nipples, hard nubs against her wet, silky top. She moans again. Louder.
I tear away, one foot in heaven and one in hell. It’s time to get a grip, to calm myself and focus. After all, getting a woman off is what I do best. My uncertainty fades as I take charge, increasing the pressure. Not much, just enough to turn that moan into a gasp, followed by a soft squeak. I break our kiss and nip her plump lower lip, tasting the hint of cherry lip balm. Then I continue my leisurely torment down her jaw to the sensitive place on her neck, relishing her rapid pulse and trace of perfume that wasn’t washed away in the river. Chanel No. 5.
She is killing me in the best of ways.
“God, you smell brilliant.” I give her a soft bite. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough that I’ve got her full attention. She moans. All women enjoy a little domination in the bedroom. “Like that?”
“Mmmmm,” she purrs.
I bite again, wiping away the sting with the flat of my tongue. “I asked you a question. I am your prince. I expect you to respond.” My tone is authoritative, yet teasing. I want control, but I also want her to know she’s safe—safe from the river, from the painful memories she buries. I’ll erase it all with a swipe of my tongue. Another nip of teeth.
She presses her hips against me. “Feels so good,” she murmurs. “If X wasn’t close, I’d be on my knees filling my mouth with your cock.”
So my prim-and-proper ice queen likes to talk dirty. Blood sings through my veins, a pounding chorus, as I thicken in an instant. “Good thing X took a drive.”
She stills. “He’s gone?”
“I heard him leave while we walked toward the bridge.”
She frowns. “He knew you’d seduce me?”
I shrug. “Maybe he wanted a croissant?”
She slides away. My body aches at the gap, and for a moment, I falter. Who is really in control here?
“You seduce many women, don’t you, Sire?”
No point lying. “Nikolai,” I remind her, my voice firm. I want my name dripping off her lips in a torrent of pleasure. “Call me by my name.” Might as well admit there is more to wanting to hear her say it than a simple, sexual ego booster. Every cell in my being craves her closer, wanting to rub against her and smooth away my ragged edges, to see if she is the one who possesses whatever the fuck I need to be made whole.
Good God. I’m pussy drunk.
“You seduce many women, don’t you, Nikolai?” She bites her bottom lip, and my cock strains against my jeans, but I force my voice to remain steady.
“Yes,” I say simply. I’m Mr. Right Now. Not Mr. Right.
“A bad boy.”
I crook my lips into an arrogant smile, the mask that she expects her future ruler to wear. I have a rakehell reputation to uphold. “That seems to be the general opinion.”
She shakes her head. “Why not give in?” she murmurs, more to herself than me. “Live dangerously for once in my life.” She refocuses her gaze on me. “We can do whatever it is we are about to do and still remain professional.”
My brows rise. “Your mouth sheathing my cock is professional?” I swallow hard, and she notices, grinning, no doubt, at the effect she has on me.
She narrows her gaze as if to size me up. “Yes. Once I know what you like, I’ll be that much better positioned to find it for you.”
“I can think of many positions I’d like to find you in.”
She purses her lips. Then a flicker of uncertainty passes over