How to Resist Prince Charming (29 page)
Lenna scowled. “That’s not fair. Don’t say that. My life doesn’t revolve around him. I don’t—”
“Are you kidding me?” His eyes snapped fire. “The entire foundation of our relationship was centered around him. We had to be hush-hush because of
him
. If I wanted to be with you, I had to keep us quiet.”
Her mouth fell open. Shaking her head, she said, “But you didn’t want him to know either. You wanted to keep it quiet too...Didn’t you?”
He sent her a bleak look. “You don’t know how many times I could’ve blurted everything to him. I was so ready for him to learn the truth, it wasn’t even funny. I wanted to move past the secrets and the lies. But I kept my mouth shut...for you.”
“Braxton...” She reached for him yet again.
“Lenna, stop this,” he rasped, desperation so thick in his voice he pleaded. “It won’t work.
We
won’t work. Your dad is always going to be between us. We don’t stand a chance. And I said, don’t touch—”
“Why?” she countered, her temper rising. “Don’t you think you’ll be able to resist me if I put my hands on you?”
The challenge in her tone had him standing rigidly still when she reached for him the fourth time. Taking advantage, she ran her hands up his chest and pressed close. When her hip nudged his erection, she leaned up to kiss him. But he turned his face to the side, and she caught his jaw instead.
She nibbled on his five-o’clock shadow. He shuddered.
“I miss this,” she said, running her hand down until she cupped him through his pants.
He caught her wrist but didn’t move it off him. She tightened her grip and listened to his breath catch. His eyelashes fluttered, and he clenched his teeth.
Lenna stroked him through his clothes. “I miss our late-night talks, our tickle wars, snuggling on the couch, eating together in bed, feeling you deep inside me. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.”
He bowed his head, choking out a sound of defeat. “You’re not playing fair.”
“How can I? I can’t lose you.”
“You hurt me.” His voice was stiff even as his body sank closer and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her vanilla shampoo.
More tears rolled down her cheeks while she wrapped her arms around him and rubbed soothing circles across his back. “I know. Braxton, I’m so sorry. I miscalculated you. You were too good to be true. It didn’t seem right. I didn’t think it was possible for you to be as perfect as you are. But I was wrong and—”
“I’m not perfect,” he muttered.
Lenna was actually able to smile. “You’re perfect for me. Please believe me when I say I learned my lesson. I even told Dad you take precedence over him in my life, if that helps.”
His eyes widened as he straightened away from her, eyeing her as if he wasn’t sure he should believe her.
“But you can’t,” he said, adamant. “He’s your dad. He’ll always be your dad. Your family. You can’t...you can’t choose me over family.”
She lifted her chin. “Then I guess you two will have to learn to share me because I love you both. Do you hear me, Braxton? I love you too much to let you go. And I swear with every breath I have, I’ll never doubt your word again.”
He sucked in a breath. “You love me?”
As their gazes held, she nodded. “Yes, I love you. I will always love you. I messed up, but I swear, it won’t happen again. I know you’re the only man for me, just like I’m the only woman for you.”
He watched without resisting as she unzipped his jeans and ran her hands around the back of his pants. Fingers slipping inside, she cupped the taut globes of his buttocks before pushing his jeans down, underwear and all.
When she started to lower herself onto her knees, her mouth already watering for his taste, he caught her arm and pulled her back up.
“No,” he said. “I want to be inside you.”
She nodded, and he kissed her hungrily. Wet. Hot. Open-mouthed. The works.
Clothes became an immediate barrier; Lenna heard fabric rip as he tore the t-shirt off her. He was mad with lust, but then...so was she. He had her back pressed to the wall, her knees lifted in his arms, and her legs spread before she knew exactly what was happening. The tip of his penis nudged her opening and she cried out, already pulsing to receive him.
“Tell me again,” he whispered hoarsely.
“I love you,” she said.
His face lit with pleasure, and he surged inside her. She screamed.
“I love you. Oh, God, Braxton. I love you.”
He thrust in and out, driven by a fury, until seconds later they both groaned and clutched each other, cursing and pawing. The explosion that racked them was so powerful Braxton slumped to the floor as soon as he was spent, dragging her down with him and cradling her gently to make her comfortable.
He rested his head on her shoulder. “God, I missed you.”
Smiling lazily, she touched his hair and ran her fingernails along his scalp. He purred and closed his eyes, nuzzling her throat.
She sighed. “
Je t’adore, ma chérie
.”
“Love you too,” he mumbled on a yawn.
Lenna gasped and sat up. “Oh, my God. You know what I said?”
He gave her a heavy-lidded grin. “I’ve studied up on a couple French phrases since Paris.”
“For me?” she asked, flattered.
He cringed as if he was embarrassed and dropped his eyes, becoming preoccupied with running his finger over her collarbone. “Want to hear a certain phrase I was practicing before—”
He cut himself off abruptly but the remainder of his sentence lingered between them.
Before we split
.
To quell the echoing words neither of them had spoken, Lenna cleared her throat. “What’ve you been practicing?”
He studied her a moment, his blue gaze intense. Then the skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “What the hell,” he said more to himself than her. Grasping her fingers, he kissed the knuckles and slowly pronounced, “
Emménager avec moi
?”
Lenna’s jaw dropped. Holy— “Do...do you know what you just said?”
He smiled. “Well, I hope I asked you to move in with me.” He paused. “Did I say it right? Or did I ask you to lick my toenails or something?”
She laughed. And laughed again. “Yes,” she screamed, too ecstatic to do anything but throw her arms around him. “Oh, my God,
yes
!”
Braxton’s gripped her tight. “Yes, you’ll move in or, yes, I said it right?”
Lenna couldn’t breathe so well. “Yes to both. Are you serious? Is this what you really want?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.” He nipped her lips. As he pulled back, Lenna saw the devotion and caring in his eyes. “If we can make it past Thomas Davenport—and we will—we can make it past anything.” He stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. “All you have to do is say one more yes.”
Captivated by a Prince Charming offer like that, Lenna flashed him her dimple. “How can I resist?”
THE END
Price of a Kiss
By
Linda Kage
Some people might call her the queen of impossible relationships, and it’s true; her last boyfriend tried to kill her. He left a scar on her neck and a chink in her emotional armor. Now, she’s halfway across the country, living under the name Reese Randall, and attending Waterford County Community College instead of her dream university.
When Mason Lowe enters her life, love is the last thing on her mind. But their chemistry is instant, their connection deep, and he’s just so freaking hot. Initial communication between them might start a little rocky, but it doesn’t take Reese long to realize Mason is perfect for her in every way. Being around him makes her feel more alive than she’s ever felt before. She even relishes the moments they argue.
There's just one glitch.
He's a gigolo.
CHAPTER 1
Okay, so maybe I was about to start drooling just the teeny tiniest bit when my cousin bumped her elbow into mine, distracting me from feasting on the hunk of man candy across the quad I might possibly have been—
i.e., was totally
—undressing with my gaze.
“Girl, don’t even think about it. You couldn’t afford him if you emptied all the money in your piggy bank.”
I blinked, cleared my throat, and murmured, “I’m sorry, what?’
“I said, uh-uh. No way. You can’t afford him.”
Wrinkling my nose, I kept staring because, well, really, how could I stop? He was hotness exemplified. That was my new name for him, actually: Hotness.
“What? Is he, like,
for sale
or something?” I snickered at my own joke.
Eva patted my knee in a sympathetic gesture. “Yes. Actually, he is.”
Grin slipping, I wrinkled my nose. “Huh?”
Seated on one of the benches outside the main building of Waterford County Community College, Eva and I had been sipping on our morning dose of caffeine and sugar, arguing over who was wearing the cutest shoes, when Hotness himself had crossed my line of vision at the very corner of my eye. I’d glanced over to catch the whole picture and yeah…Shoes? What were shoes?
But seriously. He was wickedly beautiful. With the strap of his messenger bag slung diagonally across his chest, he leaned against one of the campus’s many bronzed animal statues as he chatted with a handful of other guys.
Wearing jeans and a simple T-shirt, he shouldn’t have stood out among the pack. But he did. Oh my, he did. His dark, wavy hair called to me—
Reese, Reese! Run your fingers through my wild, gorgeous, untamed mane
. It did. For real.
So maybe I didn’t have a detailed, up-close-and-personal view of him. I mean, I couldn’t even make out his facial attributes from here—and a striking face was what usually drew me first. But none of that seemed to matter, because I had this gut feeling deep inside that his smile was an absolute heartbreaker.
It was breaking
my
heart that very second.
There was just something about his aura that screamed sensual, confident, charming beast. It radiated off him in waves as he relaxed in a comfortable, total guy stance, casually draping an arm across the back of a frozen stallion. The boy was a piece of art, and hella more alluring than the chunk of metal currently supporting his weight.
I could not take my eyes off him. “Just tell me he doesn’t stalk and stab his ex-girlfriends.”
“Nope,” Eva assured me. “He doesn’t even have ex-girlfriends. Because he’s a gigolo.”
Oh, yes she did. Out loud. In the middle of a busy campus. Like it was an everyday fact.
I ripped my stare away from Hotness to gape at my cousin, who, sure, sometimes said some crazy-ass shit. But really, this was up there with the best of her whoppers. “Excuse me?”
Eva smirked. “He sells his body for sex.”
As if I needed the dictionary definition for a gigolo. Hello. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Mason Lowe, that guy you keep sexually harassing with your eyes.” She tipped her head in the direction of Hotness still leaning against the bucking horse statue. “You can’t stop staring, I know. He’s stunning, I have to agree. He was two classes ahead of me in high school and we shared a fourth-hour math class my sophomore year, so yeah, I’ve drooled over him a time or two myself. But trust me, sweetie, he’s not available. Because he’s a frigging gigolo.” When I did nothing but blink at her because, um, what was I
supposed
to say to that, Eva insistently added, “I’m serious!”
“You mean figuratively, right?”
“I mean exactly what I said, literally.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “And…you would know this because…?”
“I don’t know. I just…know.
Everyone
knows. Except the cops, of course. Otherwise, he’d be in jail for illegal prostitution or something. It’s a well-known rumor he works at the Country Club as some kind of cover to set up appointments with his clients, who just happen to be some of the richest, horniest women in the county who pay him boocoos of cash to pleasure them…any way they want. I’m certain some of my mom’s cronies have had him.”
My mouth fell open. I scrutinized her an entire minute before snorting out a laugh and shoving at her shoulder. “Oh, my God. You are
such
a liar. Jeez, E, you totally had me going for a second.”
“What?” Eva managed to look insulted. “I swear to God, I’m not lying. Do you want to go ask him?” She hooked her arm through mine and tried to stand up, dragging me with her.
Um, yeah. Not going to happen. I’d internally combust from hormone overdose if I went anywhere near Hotness right now. Like getting too close to the sun, he’d probably burn me with one of his deadly testosterone rays. And I
so
wasn’t wearing enough SPF for that kind of action.
I yanked both our asses back down. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t just go up to someone and ask him if he’s a gigolo?”
Gah!
Eva responded in typical Eva fashion. She shrugged and tossed her hair. “Why not? I doubt he’d lie about it. It certainly doesn’t seem to be a secret.”
I threw my head back and shouted out a laugh. But, wow. Sometimes Eva was just too much. The things she could think up were, well…they were outlandish. I kind of loved that about her, and yet it also embarrassed the heck out of me. Sadly, I wasn’t quite as outgoing as my vivid counterpart. I was much more prone to moments of horrified blushing than feats of extroverted greatness. I mean, I wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but I was by no means an Eva Mercer.
As if he sensed I was blushing over him that very second, Hotness—or as Eva had dubbed him, Mason Lowe—glanced in our direction and made eye contact. With me.
I stopped laughing. Stopped smiling. Pretty much stopped breathing. Gawd, but the boy sure knew how to hold a heated stare.
“Lord have mercy,” Eva murmured next to me.
I didn’t respond—couldn’t if I’d wanted to. I was too busy being electrocuted from the inside out. My fingertips sizzled and toes curled as if an invisible, kinetically charged bolt tethered me to the hunk fifty yards away who seemed to bind us together with his stare alone.
