Made me feel beautiful.
He still makes me feel beautiful.
Fingers burrowing into my hair, he coaxes my mouth toward him. But I fight against it, remaining just out of reach as I circle against him.
“You know you’re driving me crazy, right?” he growls, digging his fingers into my scalp.
I waggle my brows. “I can feel that.”
He brings both hands to my hips. Before I can react, he swiftly flips me onto my back and slams his mouth against mine. Resting his weight on one forearm, he reaches between our bodies and brings his arousal up to my center.
But like the tease he is, he doesn’t push into me. Instead, he tortures me by getting so close before retreating. I’m about to take matters into my own hands when he finally inches inside me.
Euphoria washes over me and I moan, momentarily sated at the connection of our two bodies. The connection we’ve both been deprived of for too long now.
“Look at me,” he demands when he’s barely inside me, teasing me with this small taste.
I do as he asks, focusing my eyes on his. He keeps his stare trained on me as he pushes deeper, slowly torturing me with his languid motions until he’s fully seated.
He doesn’t move for a protracted moment, neither one of us so much as breathing.
Then he exhales, his body going slack before he pulls back and thrusts into me again.
“Goddamn,” he grunts, pupils dilating.
I wrap my legs around him, my fingers digging through his hair. He withdraws once more before driving inside. This time, he continues thrusting. It’s not hard and punishing, but not gentle and tame, either. It’s both Anderson and Prince Gabriel in this one amazing connection.
I’ve known the truth of who Anderson is almost from the beginning. He didn’t trick me into sleeping with him and then reveal his true identity. Before I invited him into my bed, I knew he was a prince.
But this is the first time it feels like I’m sleeping with all of him. That he’s finally allowing me to have all of him. To have not just the person he wishes he could be, but also the person he wishes he didn’t have to be.
“I love you,” I say as I cup his face in my hands, holding him tightly. “All of you.”
He briefly closes his eyes as he moves faster, yet still reverently. “And I love you, Nora,” he chokes out. “So goddamn much.”
His lips press against mine, and I succumb to him. Not just his kiss, but everything about him. All his faults. His regrets. His fears. His imperfections. They’re all pieces of him, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
Not anymore.
With each thrust, my body is propelled higher and higher. A wave of desire slices through me as I fight against that familiar sensation. But it’s more pronounced than before. More intense. More…everything.
My breathing grows more uneven as I struggle to make sense of the myriad of emotions rolling through me. I want to fall apart, but don’t want to without Anderson.
As if sensing my inner war, Anderson pulls out of our kiss and cups my face in his hands. “Wait for me,” he begs, increasing his rhythm.
“Always.” I tighten my legs around him, that familiar tingling starting low in my core.
His pants fill the room, his increasingly frantic thrusts pushing me closer and closer to the point of oblivion. When I dig my nails into his spine, he reels back, roaring like an untamed beast as his orgasm sneaks up on him. He collapses on top of me, his teeth clamping onto my neck as he keeps thrusting, the pain mixed with pleasure setting me off yet again.
Lights flashing before my eyes, I fall apart with my prince, wave after wave of bliss washing over me and erasing every last doubt I’ve ever had.
Our heavy breathing fills the room as we attempt to come down, neither of us wanting to move, to put any space between us. There’s been too big of a distance between us lately. I don’t want to go back to that.
When he manages to lift his head, he peers at me with reverence, at odds with the carnal lust that blanketed his expression mere minutes ago.
“I wish I could promise you that I won’t fuck up again. But chances are I will. And probably worse than I did this week. Despite popular opinion that the royal family pisses rainbows and shits unicorns, we’re not perfect. Far from it.”
I laugh slightly, averting my gaze, but he pinches my chin, drawing my eyes back to his.
“Better yet, we don’t have to be perfect. And neither do you. You can tell me when shit just really bloody sucks and you miss home. I may not be able to whisk you away on the next flight to JFK, but I can at least do something to try to fix it, even if the best I can do is recreate an outdoor movie in Bryant Park, or have a pastrami and rye from Katz flown in.”
I shoot up, pushing him off me, mouth agape. “You can do that?”
“What? Recreate an outdoor movie? Of course. I—”
“No.” I quickly shake my head. “Have Katz flown in. Do you have any idea how badly I’ve been craving some pastrami and matzo ball soup? And pickles. Lots and lots of pickles.”
He laughs as he pulls me into his arms. “And here I thought pregnancy cravings didn’t start until the second trimester. At least that’s what the book I’ve been reading says.”
My brows furrow. “You’ve been reading a pregnancy book?”
“I figured it was the least I could do, considering we’ve barely been able to see each other lately. Thought if I read a bit on what happens every week, at least I’d have some frame of reference.” His expression falls. “I should have started in the chapter about dealing with pregnancy loss.” He cups my cheek, his hold resolute. “If I had known how difficult that first appointment could be, especially after what you went through, I never would have missed it. I knew it was important. You told me as much. I should have fought harder for you. For your needs. From now on, that’s exactly what I plan on doing. Okay?”
I part my lips, about to argue that he had a legitimate excuse, but he won’t hear it, erasing my protest with a kiss.
“Okay?” he repeats.
With a small smile, I nod. “Okay.”
“Good.”
He pulls me against him again as I process this new piece of information. Try to picture Anderson in his office, a stack of pregnancy books piled beside whatever important things are on his agenda for the day.
“What is it?” he asks, his voice borderline accusatory.
“What do you mean?”
“I can hear you thinking.”
“I didn’t know thinking made a sound.”
He runs a finger along my back, the gesture comforting. “Not for most people, but I can hear your brain.” He places a kiss on my head. “Tell me. No more secrets.”
I tilt my head back to look into his eyes. “I’m just trying to picture you reading a pregnancy book. I have to admit, it’s not easy, especially when the only things I’ve seen you read are the newspaper and books on World War II.”
“It was actually quite interesting.”
I shift toward him and prop my head in my hand. “Oh yeah? What kinds of things did you pick up on?”
He pinches his lips together for a beat, peering into the distance in contemplation. I can’t help but admire the strong lines of his face, the proud nose, square jaw, not to mention full mouth that brings me more pleasure than should be legal.