Page 4 of Twelve Nights In The Prince's Bed

But this wasn’t wise. It was a terrible idea. They’d both regret it.

Or would they? She wouldn’t. She knew she wouldn’t. In the same way she’d held those memories of their first encounter, sleeping with Adrastos would be another memory. A much, much better memory. And she’d no longer be a virgin... It was something that had niggled at the back of her mind for a long time. She was aware how out of step with her contemporaries she was. It hadn’t been intentional. She’d honestly started to think she was just very non-sexual. Only, it turned out, Adrastos seemed to be the only man who could stir her to this kind of fever pitch. Why on earth would she even think about squandering that opportunity?

And if anyone found out?

Adrastos’s family were all she had. They’d taken her in rather than letting her awful aunt raise her. Poppy had been so incredibly grateful that they’d fought for her, that they’d brought Poppy to live with them. They’d always gone out of their way to make sure Poppy felt welcome, but, at the end of the day, she wasn’t their child. She wasn’t really family. They needed Adrastos to follow through with his royal duties. His penchant for sleeping with anything in a skirt was a source of great pain for the King and Queen, and even to Eleanor. So if they learned Poppy had become one of his women? How could they fail to feel betrayed by that?

It would change everything.

Poppy couldn’t lose them, too. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything to upset them, to make them think she’d taken advantage of her place in their lives.

She prevaricated but whatever hesitations she had abruptly disappeared the moment Adrastos began to unbutton his shirt, slowly but determinedly, eyes on her the whole time so she felt as though he saw all the way through her, and she shivered.

Because she wanted him to see her. She wanted this.

It could never be more than this night. She wouldn’t risk her place in his family by wanting more—she knew the boundaries. Honestly, Poppy didn’t know if she’d survive losing the love of his parents and sister, not after all she’d already lost. Plus, she wasn’t a total sadist. Wanting more than one night from Adrastos would be like wanting to sprout wings and fly. One day, he’d give up his bachelor lifestyle, but probably not for many, many years.

‘Adrastos...’ Her voice was a husky plea, an incantation of some ancient magic, a promise, a pledge.

He stopped unbuttoning his shirt, eyes meeting hers, and then he lifted his hand, holding it outwards. Poppy was just inches away. One single step closed the distance. She stared at his hand a moment, feeling the enormity of what he was asking, then put her own in it. A tremble ran the length of her spine at their connection. Her soul spun.

He was Ellie’s brother.

She’d seen him as off-limits for years. To touch him now with freedom, to feel his warmth against her skin, set something going inside her that she almost couldn’t bear. Her knees knocked and her stomach flipped.

‘You do it.’

Another command.

At her look of uncertainty, he gestured to his shirt. Her veins were filled with a tsunami of blood. She took one more step, then, with fingers that weren’t quite steady, began to unfasten the remaining buttons.

He smelled so good up close. Alpine and masculine, with whisky undertones making her belly do somersaults. She breathed in deeply, wanting more of him. She leaned closer, letting her face drift towards his now naked chest, inhaling his fragrance, her lips tingling with a desire to kiss and to taste.

He drew in a deep breath, so his chest moved, his skin just millimetres from her mouth now.

Poppy held back a groan, swallowing it in her mouth, swallowing hard. Reality seemed so far away, but if she was dreaming—again—then she didn’t want to wake up.

Her hands pushed the shirt from his body completely, letting it fall to the floor, and her eyes sought his, trying to reconcile this version of Adrastos with the one she’d known for so many years. The heir to the throne, the ‘older brother’ figure.

‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked uncertainly, because she couldn’t bear it if he changed his mind later. She needed to know. She needed a guarantee that this was going to happen.

‘What do you think?’ His eyes were hooded, his handsome face tanned, with a slight colouring to his cheekbones.

She lifted her slender shoulders in a half-shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

After all, how could she? Her experience with men was non-existent.

‘You don’t know if you’re sure?’

‘No.’ She bit into her lower lip again. ‘I know... I know what I want.’

And she did. God help her, she did.

His smile then was her undoing. Slow to spread and ever so sensual, it lit a thousand little fires beneath her skin.

‘It’s just...you’re...you...’

His eyes flashed with something dark.

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