Page 8 of The Wanted Prince

“It was fun, though,” I said.

“Or that night by the stairs…”

That thrill came again. He meant our last night together. Our near-kiss that would’ve been a kiss goodbye.

“I always wondered,” he said.

My breath caught. “Wondered what?”

“What would’ve happened if Father hadn’t come. If I’d kissed you right then. If we’d kept in touch.”

“Nothing could have happened. I’m still a Cardona.”

“But we’re here now.” He trailed his hand down my arm. It was only a light touch, but I burned in its wake, fire down my arm and straight to my heart. Gooseflesh rose and I shuddered, and Alessandro took my hand. He twined his fingers with mine. Clasped my hand to his chest.

“We shouldn’t,” I said, meaning but let’s.

Alessandro dropped my hand and held my head instead, one burning palm pressed to each cheek. “Say you don’t want to, and it ends right here. I’ll make you a drink and we’ll look out at the stars, and we’ll talk about old times, and that’ll be that.”

I hitched a breath. “Or?”

His hands slid back, tangling into my hair. A strand of pearls came loose and dropped to the floor. “Say yes and find out,” he said, his voice a deep growl. “Say you want me, you want this, and?—”

“I want you.”

The words were out before I could think, and just as fast, Alessandro was on me. Our first kiss was molten. Hot as the sun. I half-swooned into it, faint from my corset. Stars danced in my vision as I closed my eyes. It was everything I’d dreamed of and nothing like I’d thought, his lips soft and smooth where I’d expected roughness. His hair hung in my face and my own curls spilled free. I slid my hand up his back. He twisted his in my hair. Between hungry kisses, I thought he gasped my name. I whispered his back. He sighed. Pressed against me.

We shouldn’t, I thought again, but I didn’t say it. Alessandro was wrong for me, a rake. A playboy. Our families had feuded for three hundred years. But maybe this, us… maybe we needed this. To get it out of our systems, and then we’d move on.

He kissed me again, and moved against me. I felt his cock throb, full with desire. My body responded, my pulse in my ears. I could hear my own heartbeat, the rasp of his breathing. The chink of his medals pressed to my chest.

If it got out, the scandal?—

He nipped at my ear. I clung to him, melting, aching for more. I’d come this far already, too far to take back. If someone had seen us, the damage was done. Why not have the benefits to go with the risk?

“So good,” he whispered, into my neck, trailing sweet kisses all the way to my collar. He unhooked my necklace and let it fall away, then plucked at the buttons down the back of my dress. They came open swiftly at his skilled touch, and a sudden thought hit me, sparking a laugh.

Alessandro frowned. “What?”

I let the top of my dress slide down, revealing my corset. “It took two maids and my mother to lace this thing up. I’ll never get it on again.”

“I’ll lend you something.” He peeled my sleeves off and kissed his way down my arms, sucked on my fingers as my dress fell away. My petticoats were next, so starched they stayed standing, meringue swirls of lace lapping up to my thighs. I pushed them down and they sprang up again, and we both laughed. Alessandro half-lifted me, and I half stumbled free, and we dropped in a tangle onto his bed. I landed on top of him, straddling his thighs. His trousers were scratchy, and I tugged at his belt. He loosened his tie and then his collar, and I flashed back to my fantasy of mangoes in bed. Of licking the sweet juice off his smooth, tanned skin.

“You’re looking at me like you want to eat me.”

I smiled at him wickedly. “Maybe I do.”

He groaned as his belt came off and I unbuttoned his fly, tearing, impatient, at his jacket and shirt. Between the two of us, we soon had him naked, and me in my stockings, my corset half-laced. Alessandro tugged the ribbons out with focused fury, and when it fell open, he tossed it away.

“You’re all marked up,” he said, and stroked my bared back. “Whoever invented these things had to hate women.”

I looked down at myself and saw it was true: my corset had left lace prints all down my chest, over my ribcage and across my soft belly. Alessandro thumbed at them, then stroked with his palms. Then he was kissing me where the bones had dug in. He followed the crisscrossing welts from the ribbons, and I gasped with each touch to my sensitive skin.

“Does that hurt?”

I bit my lip. “No. It’s… intense. I’d gone numb for hours and the feeling’s all back. Like pins and needles wherever you touch.”

He winced, then he smiled, and his kisses got gentler. I shivered, then giggled.

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