Page 11 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

Then his pulse quickened as anticipation stirred. Ilsa wanted to freshen up, ready for a night making love.

CHAPTER THREE

ILSASHOOKHERHEAD, not wanting to believe it was true, but knowing it was.

Of course it was. Her life was a disaster lately.Shewas a disaster, according to her father. She should have expected malicious fate would play another trick on her.

She dragged a comb through her hair, tugging hard, telling herself that was what made her eyes water. Not disappointment and razor-sharp frustration such as she’d never known. And plain old-fashioned pain.

Another cramp twisted through her abdomen and she braced against the bathroom basin, breathing slowly.

Some women had easy periods that turned up as regular as clockwork. Not Ilsa. She, like her mother and her cousin, had endometriosis. In her case it meant irregular cramping periods. Usually the aches started long before the bleeding but not tonight.

Tonight she’d barely had any warning.

She blinked into the mirror, eyes filling and mouth crumpling at the sheer unfairness of it. Why now? Why tonight when she’d just methim?

Fate definitely had it in for her.

Noah Carson was the first man she’d been really attracted to since her teens. The first man she’d wanted. And, in tonight’s strange, reckless mood, she’d decided to let him be her first.

No, that was too passive. This wasn’t aboutlettinghim be her first real lover, but acting on her bone-deep need for him. An urgent desire such as she’d never known could exist, much less between strangers.

She felt ready to risk anything for a night in his arms.

Everything had seemed so perfect, so inevitable, that any last qualms had withered when he took her hand and those unspoken messages passed between their bodies. As if, instead of being strangers, they already knew each other in the most essential ways.

Ilsa blinked, suppressing the urge to howl in outrage and despair.

She’d never experienced anything like this, and probably never would again.

Next time her father organised her betrothal for dynastic purposes, there’d be no escape. She’d marry some man out of duty. The chance she’d feel anything like what she felt for Noah was non-existent.

For years she’d accepted that as her fate. But now...

She’d changed. She craved more. She wanted...

Jerking up her chin she met over-bright eyes in the mirror.

It doesn’t matter what you want. Tonight just won’t happen. And Noah Carson isn’t going to wait around for a week until you’re ready. The fantasy is over. You’ve missed your chance.

Putting her comb back in her purse, Ilsa fought the urge to rage and scream her disappointment. She pushed back her shoulders and schooled her features into a mask of calm.

When she reached the large sitting room, she found Noah waiting for her instead of on the deck.

Her heart bumped hard against her ribs then took up an unsteady beat.

With his hands in his trouser pockets, his stance accentuated his wide shoulders and lean length. He looked delicious, especially when his searing gaze took hers and his mouth curled up in a smile she felt in every pore and deeper, right at the centre of her being.

Ilsa swallowed. She had no choice but to walk away. Yet it felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done. Far harder than ending her engagement.

‘Have I told you how good you look?’ His words burred across her skin, drawing it tight with goose bumps. ‘Absolutely delectable.’

‘I—’ She’d been about to respond in kind and say he looked good enough to eat. Her mind snagged on the notion of tasting her way across his body. Then snapped back to the fact that wouldn’t be possible. ‘I’m so sorry, Noah. But I have to leave.’

His smile disappeared. ‘Did you get a message? Something urgent?’

‘No.’ Maybe she should have lied and said yes, but Ilsa was innately truthful. Besides, whatever it was she and Noah shared felt too visceral, too profound for lies. ‘But I’m afraid this isn’t going to work.’

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