Page 3 of His Highness's Hidden Heir

“Shall we?” The deep, accented voice stirred the fine hairs near her ear while a wide, hot palm took possession of her hip.

She turned her head and her cheekbone grazed the silky whiskers of the Prince’s chin. He essentially surrounded her, causing her heart to belatedly leap. She was snared. Caught.Claimed.

A dozen thoughts zipped through her mind—one of them that he couldn’t possibly know who she was—but he was trailing his hand across her lower back, thumb grazing where her gown dipped to reveal her spine, leaving a spark of electricity against her skin.

He removed his touch and caught her hand, tugging her toward the dance floor.

It was as though a barbed hook in her chest pulled her to follow him, instantly painful yet impossible to resist.

He gathered her a little too close. Close enough that her legs brushed his as they moved, causing the silk lining of her gown to caress her thighs.

She knew how to dance, but she’d never moved so fluidly with anyone. Not without weeks of rehearsal. She was instantly in sync with him, her body giving over to his dominant lead with instinctive trust.

Don’t, a protective voice warned. She’d learned the hard way that trust needed to be earned. Even then, it was conditional. She’d been hurt too many times to take anyone at face value, even a prince. What did he want? Sex?

“What’s your name?” he asked in his accented English.

“You don’t know?” She was genuinely surprised.

“Should I?”

“I’m Lexi Alexander, an actor from America.” She didn’t mention the cosmetic thing. “I would have thought someone on your team had recognized me.” And warned him not to talk to her, let alone dance with her. People were noticing.

She glanced toward his entourage and saw a silver-haired man wearing an expression of subtle horror.

It wasn’t funny, but she had a dark enough sense of humor to be amused.

“You didn’t know who I was when you saw me,” the prince chided. “I could tell by the way you looked at me.”

“How was that?” She lifted her lashes, curious, and was instantly snared by the banked heat behind his startlingly blue irises.

“As a man.”

Oh.Her heart lurched. He did want sex.

But maybe she did, too? A sensual weight seemed to land in her belly, one that emanated intense warmth through her torso, arriving in pinpoints at the tips of her breasts and between her thighs.

It was disconcerting enough to make her cheeks sting. She lowered her gaze, embarrassed at having such a visceral, obvious reaction.

“You’re very beautiful.” His voice deepened with admiration. Intimacy. “I couldn’t help noticing you, too.”

She knew she was judged to be beautiful. Hollywood told her that all the time, not that she believed her beauty was anything more than symmetrical features and above-average height. She did have genuinely nice hair, but the honey-gold streaks were placed there by her mother. Rhonda Alexander had trained in hair and makeup before Lexi was born, then treated her daughter as her own personal dress-up doll, an asset to be polished and shown off.

Thus, Lexi knew how to emphasize her eyes so they seemed bigger and shape her mouth into more of a sensual pout. She wore push-up bras and kept her weight audition-ready. Her nails were always manicured, her fashion choices edgy, but flattering.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” she dismissed lightly.

“Aren’t I the lucky one to be holding it.” His mouth twitched. “You’re here alone?”

“I am, but—” She gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, regretting that she had to rebuff him. It made her throat feel raw, but it was necessary. She was used often enough that she wouldn’t do that to a stranger for a bit of positive press, no matter how badly she needed it.

The way his expression hardened told her he wasn’t used to being refused what he wanted. And he wanted her. Not the way other men did, either. This was different. She understood that at a cellular level, as his hands subtly tightened on her. He wasn’t intent on possessing a pretty object. No, this was elemental sexual desire—the kind she had never really experienced. She only recognized it in him because it was coming alive in her blood and nerve endings, sharpening her senses and filling her with craving.

Her heart tipped unsteadily in her chest. The pull toward him was so profound, the need to be near him so acute, it was terrifying. She wanted to fall into him and damn the consequences, which conversely made her want to run the other way out of self-protection.

“You need to t-talk to your people.” She stopped dancing and pressed for him to release her.

He turned to stone, holding her in place without effort for three crashing heartbeats.

---