It takes a little while—the space between one breath,
two, three—for her to come back to herself. For awareness to bloom in her eyes and heat to blaze in her cheeks. And when it does, I feel like I’ve lost something I never even realized I had.
“I’m sorry—”
I cut her off with a finger on her kiss-swollen lips. “If I had my way, we’d be in your bedroom right now, and I’d be buried balls deep inside you while you screamed my name. So please, don’t apologize.”
Something new moves in her eyes at my words, something dark and deep and needy. But there’s a wariness there, too, and that—above everything else—is why I stopped.
“But my security detail is right outside,” I remind her, “and I’m not okay with them seeing any more of this.”
Her cheeks burn even brighter at the reminder, and I want to kick myself as she buries her face against my chest. “Hey, hey,” I whisper against her sweet-smelling hair. “None of that. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I shudder to think what you get up to on a regular basis, then.” She glances up at me from beneath impossibly long lashes. “I almost climbed you like a tree in full view of your security and my neighbors. I’m pretty sure that counts as something to be embarrassed about.”
“Well, it’s not. I promise.”
“Oh, well, if His Royal Hotness says not to be embarrassed…”
“If His Royal Hotness says it, you should believe him.”
“Yeah, right.” She laughs a little. “I’ve seen the tabloid pictures.”
“Which is why you should believe me. I know what I’m talking about.”
“More like you have no shame,” she retorts with a roll of her eyes. But her cheeks have returned to their normal bronzy color and her eyes look clear, which for now is enough for me.
“I want to take you on a date.” The words come out before I even know I’m going to say them. But once they’re out there, hanging between us, I have no desire to take them back. They feel good, right.
At least for me. I’m not so sure about Savvy, who is looking at me like I’ve just suggested a day trip to Mars. Or maybe Saturn. “On a date?” she repeats.
“Yes. You know, to a restaurant. Where we order food, have some wine and some conversation, maybe split a gooey, decadent dessert and then take a walk on the beach.
“I know this great place down the coast. It’s small, out of the way, but it makes the best coq au vin you will ever taste.” I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lingering just long enough to trail my hand down her baby soft cheek. “I’d really love to take you there, if you’d let me.”
I know a million women who would jump at that suggestion—hell, probably more like two or three million, if I’m being honest. But the wariness is back in Savvy’s eyes and she looks more uncertain than I’ve ever seen her.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” she says, taking a few cautious steps back from me.
I follow. Of course I do—retreat and pursue seems to be the modus operandi of whatever we’ve got going on here. “Why not?” I demand as I stalk her across the room, taking one step forward for every two she takes back.
“I told you the other night that I didn’t want this. And then I told you again when you got here. You’re the one who can’t seem to understand.”
“Yeah, well, maybe the reason I have such a hard time understanding is because we both know that if I got on my knees right now, you’d let me do anything I want to you.”
I reach for her to prove my point, but Savvy’s having none of it. “Because I’m a crown chaser?” she demands as she slaps a hand against my chest.
“No, because you’re as hot for me as I am for you. The chemistry between us is off the charts and I don’t see anything wrong with two single, unattached adults exploring that chemistry. Especially since we never run out of things to talk about and we seem pretty damn good at making each other laugh. Going on a date seems like a no-brainer to me.”
“Yeah, as long as that date’s at some tiny hole in the wall where you don’t have to worry about the press catching the new crown prince with someone inappropriate.”
“Wait. What?” I grab her hand, pull her close. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.” Then she’s twisting her arm, trying to break my grip. But that only makes me more determined to hold on, because something isn’t right here. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’m hell-bent on figuring it out.
“I am going to worry about it—”
“Why?”