Page 44 of The Billionaire's Princess

Why do I feel like a dormant caveman just woke inside me, rolled over and found his club?

“We’re not using condoms.” The steely note in my tone makes me sound like pharaoh commanding the Egyptians to double their daily quotient of bricks, but I can’t seem to help it. “I can get you a report from my doctor saying I’m clean if you want. But we’re not using condoms. Not after that.”

I stare her in the face, challenging her to say something about it. Daring her.

“You won’t be so smug if I turn up pregnant, will you?” she says.

I tell myself to keep my big, fat mouth shut, but my big, fat mouth isn’t listening.

“You royals have the ability to read people’s minds?” I say, sudden tension—what the fuck is my problem right now? I’m in bed with a woman talking about kids?—killing off a good portion of my post-sex relaxation. “Good to know.”

She looks at me as though I’m crazy. Which I clearly am.

“Tomorrow I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of this. I’m assuming that sex has scrambled your brain and you are not in your rational mind right now.”

“You and rational don’t coexist with me,” I say flatly. “That should be evident by now.”

She takes a closer look at me, frowning. “Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” she asks.

I open my mouth and fumble for the appropriate answer. One that will let her know this is getting serious on my end but give her no clue exactly how serious. Even I have no idea how serious this thing could get. I just know that it’s not looking remotely casual from where I’m standing.

“Because I get the feeling my life is changing,” I confess. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

“My life is also changing, in case you hadn’t noticed,” she says tartly. “Yet you’re the only one glaring as though someone has threatened you with a cricket bat.”

I feel a surge of admiration and exasperation for this woman. They often travel together where she’s concerned.

“Do you have to call me out on everything, princess? Every single time?”

“Yes.”

“That takes some getting used to,” I tell her.

“Sorry about that.”

I raise my brows. “Sure you are.”

We grin together for a delicious moment that sweeps away the unexpected weirdness just now. I hate to rock the boat again so soon, but there’s something I need to know.

I open my mouth, determined to tread carefully.

“How did things go with Percy? You okay?”

She quickly looks away, her smile already a thing of the past. “I don’t want to talk about Percy when I’m in bed with you,” she says, adjusting the linens. “Or ever, come to that.”

“Indulge me.”

Now she goes to work fluffing the pillows and leaning against them. Anything to avoid my gaze, I suppose.

“I didn’t deny being with you. It’s for the best.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “But the question is how you feel about it. And it would be great if you could look me in the eye when you answer.”

Exasperated sigh from Carly, but she does resume eye contact. Reluctantly.

I brace for the worst. Something about how she and Percy agreed to take a break and see other people but plan to reconnect in a few months or a year to reevaluate their relationship and future.

But that’s not what she says.

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