Page 24 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

Three hours later he ended the video call and leaned back in the desk chair.

His mouth ticked up at the corner. He might have agreed to the discussion to get some space from temptation, but it had been a good business decision. He shot off a message to his team, arranging follow-up.

Someone knocked. Probably the housekeeper, seeing if he needed refreshments.

‘Come.’

The ornate door swung open and Ilsa stepped in.

Noah’s gut contracted. His breath, when he finally managed to release it, sighed out between his teeth.

Her hair spilled around her shoulders, golden as a summer sunrise. Her dress, azure blue and lustrous, was moulded to her upper body before flaring out to end high above her knees. Which left those long, slender legs bare.

His gaze tracked down to spindle-heeled sandals that consisted of miniscule straps the same colour as her dress.

He raised his eyes, pausing of necessity at her breasts, their sweet upper swell just revealed by the straight edge of the fabric.

The dress was held up by straps so thin they looked as if they’d tear with one tug of a finger, or his teeth.

‘Ilsa.’ Her name was gruff in his mouth. He swallowed. He needed to sound amiable, not like a man wanting to eat her up centimetre by slow centimetre. ‘You look rested.’

She looked bloody fabulous.

Desirable yet understated.

Except for the sandals. They screamed sex so loud it interfered with his hearing.

‘Sorry?’ He’d seen her lips move but hadn’t heard the words.

‘I asked if you’d finished your business.’

‘Yes.’

He’d planned to stay here, sending a few emails before torturing himself with her company over dinner. But, faced with the sight of her in the flesh, the silky, alluring flesh, all thought of contracts and due diligence disintegrated.

Ilsa took another step and pushed the door shut behind her. She paused and he saw her breasts push up against the constraint of the shimmery dress.

His mouth dried again. If he tried to talk he’d sound like a bear woken from hibernation. Or a man losing control of his libido.

She turned the key in the lock.

Noah’s heart hammered against his ribs, sending every blood cell to his groin as excitement rose.

‘Why are you here, Ilsa?’ His voice was so rough he wondered if she’d understand the words.

‘I want to kiss you, Noah.’ His heart stopped then stuttered back to life. ‘I want...everything.’

CHAPTER SIX

ILSA’SHEARTDIDa crazy slalom in her chest and her knees locked, making her stop, her hand on the door.

She’d deliberately not worn a bra and as she drew a deep breath the graze of fabric against her nipples was disconcerting. And arousing.

Noah stood behind a massive desk, looking potently masculine. Worn jeans clung to powerful thighs and his pale shirt emphasised both the breadth of his straight shoulders and the colour of those remarkable turquoise eyes below straight black brows.

She loved that intense hooded stare of his, the way it made her feel utterly feminine and alluring.

Yet this time she also felt a flutter of anxiety.

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