Page 26 of Princess Bride Swap

Hotter.

Rougher.

Until she was pressed up against the island. Until his hands were tangled in her hair once more. He could lift her up onto the countertop and have her. Right here. Right now. This terrible pressure would be gone. The mistake made and done instead of hovering just out of reach. It would be relief. It would be a mistake, but he would fix it.

He could fix it.

Or it would open an insatiable desire he could never stop. Or it would get too dark, too wild, and he would be doomed just like every man in his royal bloodline before him.

Maybe it was in that blood—his uncles and cousins had often been brought to ruin by their unquenchable thirsts—but he would not succumb. He could not allow it.

He pulled away. Set her gently back. To prove that he could. To prove that he would. Tonight, he would touch her. But...in their bedroom. Appropriately. Carefully. Not with this wild thing whispering dark, lurid suggestions in thekitchen.

Except she frowned up at him, her dark eyebrows drawn together as she studied him. As if she could see right through him. “Why do you hold yourself back from me when we both know where this eventually must end up? When it seems...you enjoy it at least a little?”

No, there were times her directness didn’t entertain him at all. Because he knew the answer, but he could hardly give it to her.

“I suggested steps for a reason, Beau,” he said, trying to sound gentle if scolding. He was afraid his voice just sounded...rough. A clue to everything clawing at him.

“What reason?” she demanded.

She was seriously testing his temper. But he maintained his calm demeanor. Because he was in control. “You are innocent. Sheltered, you said that yourself. Jumping into things... It would be careless. Reckless. Sometimes if proper steps are not taken, miscommunications happen. People believe in feelings that aren’t...accurate or suitable.”

This did not seem to assuage her. Her eyes snapped with temper. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You think if we have sex I’ll just...miraculously fall in love with you on the spot? I’ll be so bowled over by the experience, I’ll just turn into some mindless ninny desperate for love?”

“No, but...”

“But! But!” Her mouth dropped open in outrage. Her cheeks flushed with temper. And it did not help this roaring thing inside of him. It poked at his own temper. It stirred darker wants than he allowed.

“I do not wish to fight with you,” he said. Through gritted teeth.

“Then don’t be an idiot,” she shot back. Then she blinked, as if she realized what she’d just said. Her expression was torn, clearly.

But she didn’t apologize for her little explosion, no matter how contrite she looked. When sheshouldapologize.

He told himself that’s why he didn’t let it go, when he should. Whenhewas the one who’d said he didn’t want to fight.

“Would you prefer I take you in a maddened rush? Right here? On the kitchen counter where we make ourfood?”

She lifted her chin. “Over this strange back-and-forth? Over you...getting me all worked up and then stepping away all icy and weird? Yes, I’d prefer mad rush over that.”

Walk away.

The voice of reason was still there. But it was faint.

And he didn’t want to listen. He’d show her, instead. Frighten her. Make herstop. She would want to stop once he showed her, and then...then...he could.

So he gave in to the roaring thing inside of him. The wants, desires, the dark, twisting need. He fisted his hand in her hair, holding tight so she couldn’t move. So she was at his mercy. His for the taking.

Then he crashed his mouth to hers andtook. It was rough, demanding. The scrape of teeth, his fist in her hair. He gave her no quarter, offered no gentleness. He only took and took and took until those alarm bells he was usually so good at listening to rang in his head.

He wrenched his mouth away, but he couldn’t seem to pull his hands from her hair. He couldn’t seem to put distance between himself and the soft warmth of her body pressed up against his.

“There are parts of myself I keep leashed for a reason,tesoruccia.”

Her gaze was steady, her eyes seemed to glow gold. “You are not a dog, Lyon.”

But he felt like one, even as her palm slid over his cheek. Like someone trying to tame the snarling, wild beast that roared within.

---