Page 21 of Royal Surrogate 1

I’m not certain what it is about the expression in her eyes, but it does something to me I can’t quite explain. My stomach turns, but not in a foul way. My heart begins to speed a bit in my chest, and there’s an odd fluttering in the pit of my gut.

I don’t believe I’ve felt anything quite like it.

“You play the ukulele?”

I must blink a few times, her odd question breaking me from the strange trance I was in. “What?”

“The ukulele.” She points over my shoulder. Isn’t that what that is?”

I look behind me toward my dresser at the instrument I’d left there a few months ago before I look back at her. “I…I suppose. I took it up a while ago.”

She smiles, obviously relieved to have the moment between us broken. “That’s really cool. I always wanted to play an instrument. I tried the oboe when I was in sixth grade, but I gave it up.” She walks over to the dresser and runs her fingers over the strings. “Maybe you can play for me sometime.”

“Certainly. I’m fairly terrible at it.” I stand, too, and the feeling in my stomach can only be described as… disappointment. “Weren’t you going to tell me something?”

“Was I?” She turns to me with another plastic smile. “I think maybe I’ll just take a bath or something. Or a shower. Or?—”

I’m not certain what I’m doing, but it all seems to happen in a single, fluid movement. My arms circle her waist, and my lips find hers, cutting off her words. She hesitates, pushing against me, but only for a moment. A second later, her hands are on my neck, in my hair, and her lips part.

And my God, she’s sweet. Sweeter than I remember. I don’t know that I’ve ever wanted a woman this much in my life.

My hand drops to her ass, and I start to pull her against me, wanting her to feel just how much I want her. But then I remember—she’s a virgin. She’s never had a man inside her. And by God, I want the first cock she feels inside her to be mine. I want her to know what ecstasy feels like, and I want to be the one to give it to her.

CHAPTER 16

Renae

I’ve never been kissed like this in my life.

For a moment I’m lost, drowning, blind to everything but the man holding me. His mouth moves against mine with an easy skill, with the confidence of a man who knows how to undo a woman with a single kiss. And I can’t help it—I fall right under his spell. My head goes woozy, my fluttering heart leaps right up into my throat. Our accidental kiss back at the diner in Seattle was jarring, but this is next level. Caspar smells of musk with something gentle and sweet underneath—like vanilla, maybe, or sherry—and it’s intoxicating. Between that and the way his hands are gliding over my back, warm and strong and sure, I don’t have a chance.

I’m not sure I even notice him backing me slowly toward the bed. And if I did, I certainly wouldn’t have the strength to stop him. Suddenly the mattress hits the back of my thighs, and then I’m falling back with Caspar on top of me.

His kisses never stop. His lips move against my mouth, then my jaw, then my throat, seeking and worshiping, making me feel like I’m floating. Despite myself, my fingers curl against him, clutching his shirt, holding him close. It’s been a long time since my body has felt anything like this. I’m sad to say that physical satisfaction is the one thing I’ve ignored again and again in favor of more pressing concerns, and now that I’ve had this taste, my body is reminding me of everything I’ve been missing. It’s like years’ worth of repressed desire is suddenly rising to the surface, making my skin tingle and my heart stutter.

Caspar is moving down now, tracing a path down my neck, exploring the upper curve of my chest. His hands move even lower, grabbing the hem of my shirt and sliding it upwards. His knuckles graze the bare skin of my stomach, and my belly flip-flops. Already my legs are twisting around him of their own volition, wrapping around his hips, silently begging for more.

He chuckles against my chest, a warm, seductive sound that makes my toes curl.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against my skin. “We’ll get there.” His fingers press flat against my sides, gliding up over my ribs. “I want us to take our time…make sure this is pleasurable for you.” He turns his head, his mouth finding my nipple through my shirt. His lips close around it, and he waits until he hears my gasp before releasing it again. “I want your first time to be as enjoyable and as unforgettable as possible.”

Through the fuzzy haze of my pleasure I correct him without thinking. “I told you, it’s not my first time.”

His head jerks up, his lips dropping into a frown. “It’s not?”

I shouldn’t have said anything. This misunderstanding—and the obvious disappointment in his eyes—kills the mood, snapping me right out of my cloud of lust and back to reality.

“This is a mistake,” I say, shoving at his shoulders. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He rolls off me, but his eyes never leave mine, and his brow is still wrinkled with confusion and disappointment. “You said you were a virgin.”

“No, you asked if I was a virgin and I told you I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t sound entirely convinced of the matter. If I recall, you used the phrase ‘sort of,’ which doesn’t exactly sound like a denial.”

I sit up, feeling suddenly embarrassed and a little ashamed. “Why does it matter if I’m a virgin or not? That was never part of our deal.” The words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t like being accused of purposefully misleading him, any more than I like feeling like I’ve disappointed him by having any sort of sexual experience.

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose,” Caspar says, straightening out his shirt. “I just expected a little honesty in the matter.”

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