Page 41 of Claiming His Virgin Princess

He wanted—

It hit him like a blast of summer lightning. He had an instant to feel Ilsa’s muscles clutch him, then the burst of ecstasy as the tight, hard weight in his groin exploded into pulse after pulse of powerful delight.

Noah gritted his teeth and held on tight as he lost himself in rapture. The sound of Ilsa gasping his name. The indescribable perfection of them coming together in bliss. Starbursts behind his eyes. Silk and flame, roaring heat and almost unbearably exquisite sensation. And tenderness—tenderness more powerful than anything he’d known.

Finally, sighing and trembling, he bowed forward, bending over her, his arm around her waist, resting his head against hers, absorbing her heaving breaths into his own straining body.

Noah laved her slick shoulder then grazed the curve of her neck with his teeth and had to scoop her against him when her knees gave way.

Gently he pulled back and reached for the soap. Ilsa was limp, her eyes closed and breathing unsteady as he carefully soaped their bodies, then held her as the shower washed them clean.

Even then she stood silent, her head bowed as if from exhaustion. It was only when he turned off the taps and bent to lift her into his arms that her eyes snapped open, pupils dilated as she met his gaze. She huffed a deep breath and shook her head.

‘I can walk.’ Yet instead of moving she leaned in and brushed her soft lips against his. ‘Thank you, Noah.’

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek but she turned away, stumbling a little as she pushed open the shower door and reached for a towel.

Noah had planned to take Ilsa to bed, to drowse with her in his arms, but she was already tucking the towel around her body and reaching for the hairdryer.

Disappointment stirred but he couldn’t be selfish. She’d be more comfortable with dry hair.

He dried off, planted a kiss on her shoulder and another on the sweet curve of her neck, felt her tremble and smiled. He loved her responsiveness.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ he murmured.

Noah left the room and threw himself down on the bed.

He should be exhausted after that stunning orgasm. Yet his brain was racing. What was on Ilsa’s mind? Something was bothering her this morning and he intended to get to the bottom of it. Not out of prurient curiosity but so he could help.

Noah cared for her. More, he realised, than he cared for anyone outside his family. So much that in the last few days he’d found himself dissatisfied at the prospect of their relationship ending soon.

Short-term affairs had suited him for years, yet now he found himself wanting more. How that could be achieved when they lived on opposite sides of the world he didn’t know.

Of one thing, though, he was sure. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Ilsa. It was time to think hard about what he really wanted from life, and from his lover. Meanwhile he’d talk to her about extending their cruise.

Every instinct urged him to protect her, especially as it seemed to him that precious few people had ever stood squarely on her side. Her family used her as a dynastic bargaining chip and her ex-fiancés... He gritted his teeth at the thought of them.

Ilsa deserved better than to be used. He knew exactly how that felt. He despised people who saw others as convenient tools to be manipulated for their own ends.

Poppy had used him for sex and the thrill of stepping out of her pampered cocoon to be with a guy from what she saw as the wrong side of the tracks. More, she’d tried to use him financially, wanting his money to finance her new business idea, believing he’d be so besotted he’d back her ill-conceived scheme when others wouldn’t. In fact it was possible she’d targeted him originally for his money and the sex had been a bonus.

He’d been so bowled over by her he hadn’t seen her for what she was until she spelled it out for him. That he wasn’t good enough for her. That she’d happily take his money but not his name. By which time she’d also hooked her claws into his little sister, with devastating effect.

Finally the bathroom door opened and Ilsa stepped in. To Noah’s surprise she was wrapped in a robe with her hair not only dry but twisted up into an elegant knot, as if she were dressing for a formal function.

Ilsa hadn’t worn her hair like that since that very first lunch when she’d looked like some untouchable ice princess. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, she’d put on make-up, something she rarely did on the yacht.

He sat up against the pillows, watching her eyes widen as she took in his nakedness before turning swiftly towards the walk-in wardrobe.

She was getting dressed?

Noah frowned. The way her gaze had slid away from his made a phantom chill tickle his neck.

One of the things they both enjoyed after sex was lying in each other’s arms. It had been a first for him. Before Ilsa he hadn’t been into cuddles. But now he savoured the feeling of closeness he experienced with her. She’d always enjoyed it too.

Until today. Somethinghadchanged. He’d sensed it before and now instinct warned him it was more serious than he’d thought.

He paused, considering, then rose and strolled to the door. By the time he got there Ilsa was tugging a dress over her head. Not the floaty thing she sometimes wore over a swimsuit. A tailored dress. It screamedseriousandcity, notvacationorrelaxation, much lesssex.

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