Page 32 of Lily and the Billionaire Prince

Her heart throbbed inside of her chest. The weakness in her limbs at the intimate hitch in his voice nearly made her lose her balance.

Henrik’s hand coaxed her cheek, stroking her skin with all the heat of a flame yet none of its burn. She was helpless but to let him give whatever gift he intended at that moment. Slowly and purposefully, he guided her to meet the glistening truth in his gaze. Connected as their glances were, Henrik’s eyes flicked to her mouth.

Her lips parted, making way for a series of rattling, erratic breaths. And then his eyelids drooped to a hazy, delirious level. He lifted her chin, directing his own. Her toes curled, her free hand fisted in his shirt, and she braced herself for the feel of his lips.

It came, and it was just as luscious as she’d dreamed. His mouth touched hers. His kiss sparked through to her fingertips and spiraled through her body. She felt everything he’d said—this kiss was a gift, it was every bit about sharing himself with her as she wanted to do the same for him, to add meaning and definition to the shift she’d felt pass between them earlier during their dance.

Lily moved closer, encouraged by Henrik’s secure, strong hands, until she pressed herself to him. He responded, gripping her waist. Henrik turned her. The counter was at her back, and he lifted her to sit on its surface where he had better access to her mouth.

“I want you,” he said between kisses.

Lily didn’t stop to ask for clarification. She explored his mouth, savoring every tantalizing moment of him.

“I want you,” Henrik said again, pulling back and stroking her face to keep her inches from his.

“What?”

“It’s you,” he said. “That is my gift. My request.”

Lily was thrown by his explanation. “You—what?”

She was torn between trying to comprehend his words and the pulsating longing to kiss him again. Henrik brought her mouth back where it belonged, and their lips moved in unison, burning through every inch of her, making her want him just as much as he craved her.

“My father gave me thirty days,” he said against her mouth, stealing kisses as he went. “Instead of flying back to Florida in two days, I want you to fly home to Einvar. With me.”

His arms enveloped her. His hands swept up her spine and across her curves. Lily broke free of him then. She thought through every implication of his request as much as her mind would allow and attempted to catch her breath.

Thirty days to find a bride, and out of scads of other women, he’d chosen her?

He moved in again, nudging his nose against hers before finding her lips. She kissed him a moment more before rearing back just enough. “No,” she said.

“It is my wish,” he said simply as if that would solve everything.

Was he given everything he asked for? Why else did he think that was enough of an explanation to get her to agree?

“No, Henrik,” she said again, retreating from the impact his lips intended to make with hers once more. She wished she wasn’t perched on the counter. She wished she could stand on her feet.

“Why not? I must make my decision, and I have made it. I want you.”

A golf ball lodged in her throat. This wasn’t how their agreement was supposed to go. She wasn’t the right one for him, for a myriad of reasons. Lily nudged him aside so she could return to the bathroom floor. “Henrik, I’m flattered, but there are things about me that you don’t know.”

“My father only gave me thirty days. I’ve expended a portion of that already and only met one woman whose company I constantly yearn for. I can’t promise that I love you yet, but I know it’s possible.”

“You hardly know me. And I know nothing about you or what…expectations will be had of me if I… if we…”

“We won’t have to marry right away,” he said. “There will be time to figure all of that out. I must make my decision, and I have made it.”

He brushed her long, thick hair away from her shoulder for a better glimpse of her face. “Please,” he said. “Think it over.”

“I will,” she told him, though the words were the worst lie she’d ever told. They gave him hope, as evidenced by the final, sweet, heady kiss he punctuated them with. And while she hoped there could be something more between them, she couldn’t allow that hope to sprout. Because of Damon, she couldn’t consider such a request, and when she returned to her room, she wet her pillow with her tears.

11

Lily rose early Christmas morning, slipped into her warmest clothes and boots, and with a beanie on her head, she tiptoed past Henrik’s sleeping form to the apartment door. Christmas had left its touch on the sleepy town. Snow blanketed every surface, contrasting the dark morning sky. Soft, glittering flakes drifted their way to join the rest.

Though Lily had been dismayed to reenter the whiteness of winter, she’d forgotten how much she loved the quiet hush, the feeling that she was the only person in the world awake at this very moment. She stepped carefully, noting the shape of her boot prints in the new-fallen snow and the crunching noises each step made.

It was a wonder she’d been able to sleep after her kiss with Henrik. His kiss alone had jangled her like bells and continued to ring even now hours later. Adding his offer of marriage to that had made her blood and thoughts whirl. She’d planned on running away to Europe, but she’d never imagined doing so to marry a handsome, arrogant, charming, infectious prince.

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