Yes, he’s already given me a mind-erasing orgasm, but I need more. Need him in all the ways I can have him.
As a prince.
As Anderson.
As both at the same time.
At the end of the day, he’s all these things and more. My beautiful, mysterious, duplicitous prince.
Finally, Anderson slowly curves his lips into a devious grin. “I bet you do, my little vixen.”
Grabbing my wrist, he yanks me down the hallway, his steps quick, stride purposeful. When he reaches the last door, he opens it and flicks on the switch, the low light illuminating a large room, a king-sized bed in the middle. It’s not nearly as extravagant as the one I’ve been sleeping in the past several weeks. This one is more simple, modern, blacks and whites accented with hints of lilac and plum. It’s reminiscent of Anderson’s beachfront condo in Santa Monica. A peek at the man beneath the crown.
He kicks the door closed. I face him, the space between us crackling with tension. Stare resolute, he stalks toward me, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping it to the floor. My mouth goes dry at the way his muscles stretch the fabric of his black t-shirt. I haven’t seen him in anything other than a suit and tie since we arrived here. It only makes my hunger for him increase.
“Turn around,” he orders.
Too desperate to disagree, I obey, spinning to face the bed. My heart pounds as I wait to feel his hands on me, my skin tingling with anticipation. But I don’t feel anything right away. Or even several moments later.
When I don’t think I can wait another second, his breath caresses my nape. I sigh, my body becoming momentarily lax as he presses soft kisses along my shoulders.
“God, I love your skin. So smooth. So creamy. So bloody perfect.”
He rests a hand on my stomach, pulling me against him, his front to my back. I whimper when he circles his hips, his erection prominent.
“I could bend you over the bed right like this and fuck you. Would you like that?”
I lean my head back against his shoulder, moaning as his hand brushes my nipple. When I don’t immediately answer, he squeezes. I yelp, a shockwave of electricity rushing through me.
“Tell me, Nora.”
“Y-yes.”
His grip on me tightens, his arousal pressing harder against me.
“And, god, what I wouldn’t give to do just that.” He wraps my hair around his fist, forcing my head to the side, leaving my neck completely exposed.
It’s official. This may be the hottest experience of my life. And I don’t give a fuck who I’m with. Prince Gabriel. Anderson. It doesn’t matter. I love all the parts that make up this man. I want all the parts that make up this man. The good and the bad.
When his teeth skim against my neck, I cry out.
“But I’m not.” He abruptly pulls away, leaving me wanting. I should be used to this by now. It’s a typical Anderson move. But damn if it doesn’t frustrate me to no end. Which is precisely why he keeps doing it.
I whirl around, panting. “Not what?”
“Going to fuck you.”
He’s so nonchalant about it, as if talking about the weather.
He slides off his shoes, then untucks his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this man naked. I still marvel at his physique. He’s lost a little muscle tone over the past year, but he still has an incredible form. Broad shoulders, sculpted chest, that chiseled V around his abdomen.
“But I just told you I wanted to be fucked by a prince,” I protest.
“You also asked me to make love to you.” He unbuckles his belt and slides it out of the loops.
My attention is drawn to the tufts of hair just above his waist. It’s like I haven’t spent the past year becoming acquainted with every part of his body. Like it’s our first time all over again.
“So what’s it going to be, Nora?”
I chew on my lower lip, considering my options. Why does it have to be one or the other? Why should I limit myself to only one? He can fuck me and make love to me at the same time. Just like my heart can love Prince Gabriel and Anderson North.
Sauntering up to him, I brush my lips against his. “I’ve finally realized I can have both.” I pull back, my eyes locking with his. “I can love both.”
A hint of relief flashes across his expression, the meaning in my words not lost on him.
“Just because you only see one side of me doesn’t mean the other doesn’t love and admire you.”
I cup his cheek. “I know. I understand that now.”
He loops his arm around my waist, erasing the last bit of space separating us. “You’ve possessed the most important part of me all along.” He takes my hand and brings it to his chest, covering his tattoo of a compass. “My heart, Nora. You own it. Regardless of whether I’m putting on a show as Prince Gabriel or revealing my innermost secrets to a complete stranger I met on Route 66 as Anderson North…”
I blow out a tearful laugh at the memory.
“My heart will always belong to you.”
His mouth meets mine in a searing kiss. It’s not the affectionate-filled kiss like when we first arrived here. But it’s not the lust-filled kiss from mere minutes ago, either. It’s a combination of both. Ravenous, yet ardent. Greedy, yet satisfied. Eager, yet content.
He grips my hip and steers me toward the bed. When the back of my legs hit the mattress, we stop, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, he finds the zipper on my dress and lowers it with ease. I help him push the sleeves down my arms, allowing the material to fall over my hips and pool at my feet.
He gradually brings our kiss to an end, his eyes flaming as they take in my black lace bra. I doubt this is on the approved list of royal attire.
“Sit on the edge of the mattress,” he says in a low voice.
I nod, doing as he asks.
He drops to his knees and takes one heel-clad foot in his hand. He plants kisses from my knee down to my ankle before unfastening the strap, sliding off my shoe. I don’t know how he does it, but he makes this mundane act extremely erotic, my pulse increasing when he gives my other leg the same treatment.
Not looking away, he stands, pushing down his pants and briefs before kicking them off.
“Like what you see?” He flashes me a flirtatious smirk.
“You know I do.”
I grab his hand, yanking him on top of me as we both collapse onto the mattress. When I wrap my legs around his waist and feel skin against skin, I whimper.
“I need you,” I murmur. “Need to feel you.”
Using the element of surprise, I manage to flip him over, straddling him. As I straighten and unclasp my bra, tossing it to the side, his eyes go even darker. His chest heaves through his unsteady breathing. With slow motions, he takes a breast in each hand, kneading. I arch into him, closing my eyes as I relish in the sensation.
From the moment I met him nearly a year ago, I knew there was something different about him. After I lost Hunter, I didn’t think I’d ever find love again. Didn’t think I wanted to find love again. How could I love another man when my heart belonged to a ghost?
Then Anderson walked into my life. In a matter of days, he managed to break down the walls I’d built around my heart. Crept his way under the mask I’d erected after a lifetime of being made to feel inferior. He did something I didn’t think another man would be able to.