Page 97 of My Dark Horse Prince

“This is why I can’t be around you,” I say. “You don’t respect my boundaries or my rules.”

“Not when you’re in danger, no. I don’t.” He steps closer.

His pecs are glistening, and the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulge heavily. He may have pants on, but it’s not nearly enough.

I look at the ground. “You should get the rest of your clothes on.”

He grunts. “I need to shower first.” He steps closer still, his half-naked body so close that I can smell him. Sweat. Pine shavings. Man.

I can’t think when he’s this close, but this time, it’s different. It’s more like it was before. I no longer feel like I need to vomit. Now I feel. . .jittery and unsteady and hungry.

I hate it.

“What’s gotten into you?” I point with one hand. “Go shower, and we can talk when you’re done.”

He laughs. “How stupid do you think I am?” His hand wraps around my wrist and gently drags me closer. “You come with me into the room, and I’ll put on some clothes. How’s that for a compromise?”

“But you stink,” I lie. I mean, he smells sweaty and a bit like a horse, but then, so do I.

He snorts. “If I go shower, you’ll disappear, and I’ll be left wandering around like an idiot while you’re in danger.”

“Just let go.” I hate the note of pleading in my tone.

He drags me even closer, until the side of my body is touching his. As ripped as he was before, the month of non-stop training has only made the lines on his body even tighter, leaner, and larger.

“Whoa,” Adriana says from the entrance to the barn. “What happened that stallio—uh.” Her nervous giggle is new. “Who on earth is this?”

I drop my hand and stare at her in horror.

Grigoriy straightens. Honest-to-goodness, we’re caught standing in a barn, all sweaty, with his hand around my wrist, and he straightens and smiles. “Grigoriy Khilkov, Prince of Dolgovo.”

“I should have known,” Adriana says. “He’s gorgeous, he’s naked, and he’s insane.”

“Actually, only two of those three,” I say. “He really is a freaking prince. You should see his house. It’s actually a palace.”

Adriana blinks.

“So you think I’m gorgeous?” He’s no longer looking at my sister. He’s smiling down at me.

I spring away from him as if he might burn me.

But now my sister’s view of him is entirely unobscured.

“Why’s he wearing nothing but jeans?” she asks. “Not that I’m complaining.” Her appraising once-over is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen her do.

I ignore her, focusing on the idiotic prince in front of me. One thing at a time, after all. “Go change. Now.”

“I’m going with you,” he says.

“No,” I say. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Why’s a Russian Prince living in Kris’s barn?” Adriana asks.

As if he’s counting on her to keep me here, Grigoriy glares pointedly at Adriana, and then pivots and heads upstairs.

“It’s a long story,” I say. “But it turns out, her super hot fiancé Aleksandr is also a prince, and he has a few high maintenance friends.”

“Wow, well, you know that I never date, but if I was ever going to break my rule.” She whistles.

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