Page 66 of Gilded Princess

“So you live here, huh?” I cringe as soon as the last word leaves my lips, keeping my gaze casually scanning his room.

“Did you really come in here to ask me that?”

I lift a shoulder up and laugh, the sound quick and quiet. Looking at him over my shoulder, I say, “No. I don’t know why I said that. I’m nervous, I guess.” I blow out a breath and shift to face him with one leg bent on the bed. “Look, the circumstances behind me ending up here are wild and unexpected, to say the least. But I like you, Leo. And I never would’ve stood you up if it wasn’t an emergency. I had no way of getting in touch with you. I’m sorry.”

He keeps his gaze forward and nods a few times, the only sign he heard me.

When the silence stretches to uncomfortable lengths, I brush my hands down my cotton sleep shorts and thighs and stand up. “Okay. I’m going to head back to my room then.”

One step toward the door and his hand latches onto my wrist. “Wait.”

Pausing mid-stride, I look down at him. At this angle, our faces align near perfectly. Tilting his head up a little, he pins me with his green-eyed gaze. Intensity and determination line every inch of his body, and my heart skips a beat in response.

“How long?”

I lick my lips, my response immediate. “Since the day we were supposed to see that group in the park.”

His thumb brushes back and forth over the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist, snagging my attention from his intoxicating eyes. This close, I can see swirls of sea green and amber in his irises. They’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.

He shakes his head slowly, his gaze unwavering. “No. How long has it been since you were my brother’s?”

“Years.” It feels like a lie, sour and sharp on my tongue. I’ve always been Matteo’s. But how can I feel like Leo’s and Dante’s, too?

And Aries’s, a little voice reminds me. As if I could forget the way he handled me like I belonged to him.

Or maybe they feel like mine.

With his gentle grip on my wrist, he pulls me forward so I’m standing between his spread legs. He sits back, putting his face close enough to mine that I could brush my lips across his with a tilt of my head.

“And Dante?”

“I just met him when I came here.” I breathe the words against his mouth.

He cocks his head to the side, jaw clenched and eyes blazing. “So you just hop on any guy’s lap, then?”

Jealousy colors his words, and I’m momentarily surprised at my reactionary response. A perverse sort of pleasure flows through my veins, sluggish and warm. It gives me an idea.

With my free hand, I smooth my hand up his chest and over his shoulder, pushing his body back. We both know he wouldn’t budge if he didn’t want to, but he goes willingly.

The light from the lamp behind him casts shadows on his face at this angle, making his green eyes stand out. They’re such an unusual shade, I can’t stop my gaze from straying to them. His angled jaw, strong brow, and tousled hair paint a tempting image. One I plan on seizing.

With one hand on his shoulder and the other still captured in his grip, I put one knee on the bed. Before I can settle my other knee on the bed, his grip on my wrist squeezes just hard enough to get my attention.

“What are you doing exactly?” he murmurs.

“Whatever the fuck I want,” I whisper against his lips before I swing my other knee on the bed and sink my weight on to his lap.

The thin fabric of his athletic shorts does absolutely nothing to conceal his hardening dick. I swivel my hips a little, and my shorts ride up, exposing my legs.

One light tug on my wrist and my torso moves forward, enough for Leo to capture my lips in his. He teases me with soft kisses, pulling back every time I try to deepen the kiss. I answer his taunt with a rock of my hips, grinding against his dick.

I twist my wrist around, ready to shove my own fingers inside my throbbing pussy to ease the tension. He halts my movements and places my hand on his neck.

“Don’t move your hand until I tell you.” His words are rough with lust.

I lick my lips and nod too many times to be anything less than eager. “Okay.” I keep my hands on his shoulders, but I don’t stop rolling my hips over him, hunting for the perfect amount of friction I need.

Soft fingers slide the thin straps of my tank top off my shoulders, the fabric pooling low and exposing more of my breasts. My breath hitches and my nipples tighten under his gaze. He runs a finger along the top of the fabric, stopping in the middle to tug it down.

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