She nods, typing on her computer. “Perfect, and how will you be paying, sir?”
Adrian grabs a few more hundreds—which are now soaked—from his money clip. “Might have to let those dry a little.”
I pull out my wallet and slide a credit card over to her, but Adrian holds his hand over mine. The woman looks at both of us. The more of a scene we make, the better the chance Adrian might trigger a memory, so he hands me back my credit card, putting down another hundred for the security deposit.
We head over to the elevators and wait for it to arrive. Once inside, Adrian presses the button for the fifth floor, and it rises. I exhale a breath when the doors slide open, but it only lasts a minute until I step out into the hall and Adrian grabs my wrist, circles me back around to him, and smashes his lips to mine.
It’s clear then that this was the right decision because I’d be stupid not to have the prince for a night. A saying I’ve heard my entire life rings in my head when his tongue slides against mine.
It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
This time, it’s just better to have had the prince than not at all.
Chapter Seven
Sierra
Wow. Adrian can kiss.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
He’s a prince. Of course he can kiss until I feel like my legs might give out.
As his lips slow and his hand entwines with mine, he guides me down the hall. “Let’s get out of these wet clothes.”
I find myself at a loss for words, a rare event. Usually I’m balls to the wall. I’ll act how I want to act and if you don’t like it, I don’t give a shit, but as the light on the door lock turns from red to green, my stomach clenches and my throat squeezes.
We step into a typical hotel room. At least typical to me.
“Is this slumming it for you?” I say, shutting the blinds that reveal a view of a Brooklyn apartment complex.
“No.”
I turn around to find his suit jacket already off and him halfway through the buttons of his shirt. Someone’s as eager as I am, I guess.
“Come on, you’ve really spent the night in a room like this before?” I slip off my heels and place my purse on the built-in desk.
“Can we forget who I am right now?”
His voice is low and sincere and respectful. He’s probably practiced his entire life how to avoid losing his temper for no reason. Unlike me, who can lash out without notice.
“You want me to forget you’re Prince Adrian Marx of Sandsal?”
He finishes unbuttoning his shirt, splaying it open and peeling the wet fabric off his skin. My gaze fixes to his taut stomach with a few small ripples. His bicep muscles aren’t overly developed like his bodyguard’s, but present and noticeable. It’s obvious he takes care of his body.
“Yes, because tonight with you, I’ve never felt like less of a prince and I love it.” He steps up to me. I hold my breath when his finger holds steady on the zipper at the back of my dress. “May I?”
I nod, my eyes locked with his.
“Stay in the bubble with me?” he whispers.
The sound of the zipper through the room is louder than a blaring television.
“Right now, I’m a guy who spent an evening with a gorgeous woman and wants to spend the rest of the night showing her how much tonight meant to me.”
“You sure have your lines down.”
He slides my dress off my shoulder. His hand warms my cool skin as the other side glides off my shoulder and the wet fabric falls to my feet. His breath hiccups and his gaze strays down my body, taking in my black bra and panties. A matching set I picked out just in case, back when my bravado was high, secure in the fact that I could handle what I assumed would be a cocky prince. He’s so different than I ever thought he would be.
“I only speak the truth,” he says and steps closer.
My nipples tighten and poke through my sheer bra when his chest meets mine. Warmth radiates off him while I’m still chilled from the rain.
Reaching around my body, he unlatches the clasp of my bra and he mimics the same movement he did with my dress, sliding my straps down my arms until it joins my dress on the floor. He takes me in for a second, sucking in a breath with wide eyes before he pulls back my wet red hair so it lays across my back. Then he tips my chin up with his forefinger and descends on my mouth, capturing my lips in a kiss that promises a night of cherished caresses and exploration.
I melt into him. It’s impossible not to as our tongues and chests meet with the sound of rain hitting the window.
Ending the kiss too soon, his lips scatter across my chin to my earlobe. “Let’s get you warm.”
His hand tucks inside mine and he leads me toward the bathroom, never letting go of my hand as he turns on the shower and I watch steam filling the small space. He positions me by the sink, his hands sliding my panties down my legs and placing them on the counter. I swallow back my anticipation, watching him unbuckle his belt, unbutton and unzip his slacks, and finally push them down his legs. But there aren’t a pair of black boxer briefs under his pants as I’d assumed. Instead they’re black but with a genie pot with writing on the legs that says, “Keep rubbing. You might just get your wish.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, which ruins our moment.
He glances down and laughs himself. “Hey, these are my favorite ones.”
I step closer, my hand landing on the large bulge pressing against the fabric and rub down the hardness of his length.
“Make a wish, Sierra,” he says.
I slip my hand past the waistband and close my fist around him. He inhales deeply, the smile falling off his face for a moment.
“I think it’s already coming true,” I whisper.
I have no idea if it’s the fact that his cock is in my hand or if it’s my words, but his hand snakes around my neck and he smashes his lips to mine in an unrelenting kiss that says something very different than the kiss earlier. This one promises me a night of screaming and orgasms.
“Let me help you there.” His hands leave my body to take off his boxers, which he kicks out of the way, not treating them as preciously as he did my panties.
Opening the shower curtain, I step into the hot water. It removes the chill from my skin right away. Adrian joins me and positions the nozzle perfectly so that the water isn’t spraying in our faces. He picks up the tiny bottle of shampoo and cups his hand while squeezing out a small bit. I laugh and he looks at me, a bit dumbfounded.
“I’ll need practically the whole bottle.”
He evaluates my long hair and nods, squeezing the bottle until it indents. I steal it, putting some shampoo in my hands and running them through his hair. For a moment, all I think about is how he probably uses more expensive hair products than me, but he asked that I don’t treat him like a prince, so I keep my mouth shut.
His fingers run along my scalp as he rubs in the shampoo, massaging it into a lather. “Man, you do have a lot of hair.”
To make it easier, I turn around and he steps closer until his body is pressed to mine, his dick pressed to the small of my back.
“It’s beautiful. Your hair. I love the color.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything about the rug matching the drapes.”