Page 27 of Wicked Prince

I turn my head with an incredulous laugh, although it comes out as more of a gasp.

"I can't believe I let you do that," I mutter, running a hand through my hair, hoping it's not half as disheveled as I feel.

"If you enjoyed that, you're really going to enjoy what you'reaboutto let me do to you," he shoots back.

I turn to give him another glare, but he captures my lips again and I settle for putting my irritation into returning the kiss. My aggression is still nowhere near a match for him, but even that’s tantalizing in its own way.

He nips my lower lip, drawing it into his mouth with a consoling lick. His eyes meet mine once more and the look in them sends another surge of heat between my legs.

"How about we take this into the bedroom?"

His invitation mirrors the first so closely that for a moment, it feels like time itself is standing still. Like the universe is giving me the chance to rectify things, and make the decision I should have made the first time.

For a few eternal seconds, he gazes down at me and I stare back at him, wanting nothing more than to defy that knowing look in his eyes. As if he knows exactly what I'll say, just like he knew I'd come to his place before he even sent that damn invitation.

More than anything, that is, except the promise of what happens if I prove him right.

The decision is already made. I know it as well as he does. But I linger in false hesitation, if only so I can tell myself I gave it a moment's thought.

My mouth is dry when my lips finally part to answer, and my voice is a hoarse shell of a whisper. Not because there's any real trepidation, but because words feel like a waste of time when there's so much pleasure on the line.

He's going to make me say it, though.

Hearing that one little word is as much a part of the conquest as everything else for him.

"Yes," I say through my teeth.

The moment I see the triumph in his eyes, I know I've lost. I'm just not sure what, but no matter how great the cost, I don't care enough to take it back.

"There," he purrs, taking my face in both his hands. "Was that so hard?"

He sweeps me into his arms before I can respond, and I slip my arms instinctively around his neck. My heart pounds as he carries me toward his bedroom, but the apprehension is nothing compared to the promise of what's to come.

I feel like I just signed my soul away to the devil, and maybe I have.

Or maybe the bargain I've just made is something even worse.

Either way, I've made it, and if I've already damned myself, I might as well go all the way.

ChapterTwelve

AMELIA

The moment Lorenzo puts me down at the foot of his bed and my feet hit the floor, the reality of what's happening sinks in. I look around, taking in the minimalist furniture and the surprisingly tasteful decor, and realize I'm actually in Lorenzo's damn bedroom.

Naked.

And gawking at him as he takes his shirt off, revealing the perfectly sculpted torso beneath. Like I haven't already etched the image of him on the soccer field into my mind.

God, he's perfect.

Perfectly wicked, perhaps, but when his eyes darken as he looks over me and his hands drift down to unbuckle his belt, I lose any interest in right and wrong. There's only right now, and the immediate future I can already taste on my lips like juice from a forbidden fruit I'm all too eager to indulge in.

I reach out without thinking and take off his belt for him. He's obviously surprised, but the edge of a smile on his lips makes it clear he doesn't mind. My mouth waters traitorously as he shoves down his slacks and reveals the bulge within his boxer briefs.

A twinge of apprehension finally makes its way into the cloud of lust that surrounds me, but it's not enough to get me to put on the brakes—or even tap them gently. I've never been with a guy before, and for a split second, I consider telling him that.

Then I think better of it.

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