No Perfect Princess (31 page)

If that was the case, then this god was mightily appeased. I wouldn’t be razing the village today. Alternate plans for my maiden hostage, on the other hand…

Those could also wait. Right now, all I wanted to do was savor her. And I did. Still balls-deep, I rocked into her for countless minutes, treasuring the press of her skin, the warmth of her breaths, the clutch of her body. When the water began to get chilly, I pulled out in order to turn it off and ditch the condom. Margaux shivered and wiggled, preparing to scoot off the ledge, but I yanked her up against me, instead. True to my pledge, I carried her out of the bathroom and into the guest room, gently setting her on the chaise at the foot of the bed. A quick double-back and I returned with towels, wrapping one around her shoulders while using the other to dry her body.

“You’re still soaked.” Thanks to all her shrieking, her voice was sexy-as-fuck raspy. Unbelievably, my cock reacted with a hopeful jerk.

“And your teeth are knocking like castanets.” Okay, that ought to keep the fucker subdued—for at least a minute. Wasn’t passing up the excuse to get my hands all over her again, though. While she was still sex-hazed and oblivious, I took full advantage of swiping at her curves to openly gawk at every one of them. “My God, you have a beautiful ass.”

She canted saucy eyes over her shoulder. “You making plans for it, stud?”

The towel fell from my hands. “
Fuck
.”

On a throaty laugh, she whirled back around and slinked right onto the bed, all the while swaying those golden curves in open invitation. “Come on. Help me get the sheets…wet.”

“Fuck.” It bore repeating. Maybe a few more times after this.

“What? You know where the spare sets are, right? We’ll clean up after we’re done. Mama won’t know a thing.”

I had no idea how I managed my answering chuckle. “I’m about three seconds from taking you up on that—”

“One, two, three. Ding-ding-ding!”

“—but I have some other plans for us today.”

She bolted upright, a smile twitching her lips—dropping a surprise on me equal to the one I’d given her. I’d expected a petulant pout at thwarting her seduction. On the other hand, the woman might get her way, after all. She didn’t make a single move to wrap back up in the sheets, just sat there looking like some classic erotic painting from hundreds of years ago, smiling and decadent, naked and damn proud of it.

And I’d made her look that way.

Her hair, tangled from my tugs. Her wrists, still a little red from my grip. Her nipples, engorged from my bites. And the strip of tawny curls between her thighs, such a soft deception for the fierce things I’d done there…

I could get really used to looking at you like this, sugar
.

Dangerous thoughts. Very,
very
dangerous. Though we weren’t asleep, this all still wasn’t reality. I’d all but zip-tied her and wrestled her ass up here. The fact that she delighted so much in the dream was no stand-in for the dark secrets she’d left behind in the city…the demons that’d driven her back into her tower again. The enemies she wouldn’t tell me about, let alone seek my help in fighting.

But maybe getting her this far from them was the key to unlocking her trust about revealing them. Maybe just a little.

And maybe today was the day she would.

I had to try.

Dammit…I
had
to try.

Giving up on her, especially after the last two days, was not a goddamn option anymore.

*

“Michael!”

The moment instantly made me wish I’d recorded it—not that any playback would be able to duplicate the magic of it. The delight in her smile. The awe in her eyes. Her cute little jump against me, threatening to knock the picnic basket out of my grip. It was the only incentive my body needed to spring to life. Well,
more
life. I was pretty invigorated already, again turned into the kid with the A-plus science project, now revealing to Lois Lane than I was really from a cool planet called Krypton—

And had transplanted a chunk of it into a forest clearing for her.

“You like it?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she countered, just before taking off at a run into the ankle-deep grass. Unlike when I’d been here last, tiny summer wildflowers sprang from the green expanse, yellow and white and pink looking like dessert sprinkles across the area. They thinned closer to the tree line, where pines and oaks tangled to form protective walls on three sides of the hideaway. The fourth was bordered by a mass of rocks, majestic as a huge wedding cake at the end of the sprinkles runner.

I laughed and pulled out the blanket as she plucked flowers and began tying them into a chain. “I found it by accident one day.”
When I was out walking, trying to forget about you, and ended up in the orchard…where I did what I normally went to the orchard to do…

“Come.” I made it a command. “You haven’t had anything but coffee all day.”

“And your point is?” She inclined her head in challenge while strolling back over.

“That, contrary to popular belief, coffee isn’t one of the main food groups.”

“Well, it should be.” A deeper argument brewed in her brain, I could all but read it across her face—until she looked down at the spread I’d brought for us. “Ohmigod. You brought brie. And something that stinks even worse!”

“Only way to do cheese.”

“Why can’t the rest of the world agree with that?”

A grin threatened to split my face open while we lowered to either side of the French-style spread I’d brought. It stayed in place while I poured a glass of German Riesling for us both. “The apples are ours, of course. It’s off-season so they’re small. Wait until you see them in about three months. The bread is from the bakery down the hill, Dudley’s. Mom and a few other folks in town carry their stuff. It’ll make you—” I chuckled when she bit into a slice and moaned in rapture. “Sound a lot like that.”

“Damn you,” she teased. “I’ll be paying for this with my trainer on Monday.”

“Unless you burn it off in more creative ways.”

She gave me a scorching look over the rim of her wine glass. “There
is
that.”

I almost hurled my wine into the trees and took out the food as collateral damage with my reaction. God
damn
, when she gazed at me like that…and now that I had full freedom to return those kinds of looks, with no worries about behavioral editing anymore…

And I thought
yesterday
had been the best one of my life.

I loaded up her plate with everything from the rest of the feast—tuna steak sandwiches fixed nicoise style, marinated vegetables, seasoned olives, and custard tarts—and handed it over, actually admitting to a stab of nervousness as I did.
Journey back to the land of fifteen and dorky, anyone
? The ticket was already in my hand. Even after countless business trips, even more crazy happy hours, one unforgettable Independence Day, and two mind-exploding trips to sexual heaven with the woman, this moment carried all the trappings of first date uncertainty.

I kind of liked it.

And thoroughly hated it.

“You look really pretty today.”

Seriously?

I’ll take “Lamest Flirt Lines” for six hundred, Alex.

“Pretty” was just the start of it, anyhow. She’d opted for a Daisy Mae sort of look, with a black flippy skirt, a black-and-white gingham blouse, and those sexy boots again. No accessories besides her pinkie ring—and now, the delicate flower chain she’d connected, then donned as a crown.

My princess.

So fucking perfect.

“Thanks,” she murmured—only to giggle at herself. Or me. I wasn’t sure, and the answer felt all-important. Yep, still cruising through the land of fifteen and dorky.

“What is it?” Did it sound interested, not insecure? Cool guy, not jerk-off?

“I just…well, I realized…I’d been hoping you’d say that.”

I set down my glass as confusion surely took over my face. “What? That you’re pretty?”

“Well…” She took a fast sip. “Yeah.”

“You must get told that all the time, Margaux.”

“Never when it mattered.”

Something crept across her face before she put aside her own glass and dipped her head. Something I liked seeing there—and needed to see more of. Compelled by that craving, I reached over the food to lift her chin with a finger. And was so damn glad I did. Emerald eyes, bright with the sun. Tremulous lips, turning up to welcome my intrusion…and my kiss.

I didn’t plunge or attack. Simply brushed and nipped, stealing just the tip of my tongue inside her, needing to discover what her mouth did to transform the wine and food…and fuck yes, my theory was right…the resulting nectar should’ve been listed on the state’s narcotic substances list.

When we finally dragged apart, I grated, “
You
matter, princess.”

Shit. The word tumbled out so naturally that I didn’t think about it. I braced for a retaliatory cold front from her.

Didn’t happen.

Huh
?

Her smile deepened in response to my frown. “I think I like
that
one better when it comes from you, too.”

Her confession flooded a new sensation through me. It blazed in like the sunlight but kept ripping through, like a killer Santa Ana gust. A new kind of arousal? No. Shit. This was better. And worse.

And terrifying.

Which meant it got ignored. Now wasn’t a time for terror. It was time for the let’s-make-time-stand-still perfection of this place, this woman. The poetry of her movements. The light along her skin. The breeze in her hair, flowing around that delicate crown…

I fingered one of the flower stem knots. “This is pretty good workmanship. If the royalty gig doesn’t work out, you could set up shop making these.”

She snickered. “Years of practice. Mother shipped me off to camp for a month each summer. When you’re the token bitch at Lake Chimetoona, you log in a lot of hours stringing flower chains by yourself.”

My back teeth ground together. Then my front. I flat-out disregarded the twist in my chest. “That doesn’t sound right.”

She shifted away, stretching out to the side, though kept her plate within reach. “All-girls camp, darling. There’s no such word as ‘fair’. Roles have to be filled. I naturally drew the
B
card.” She looked over and punched a deprecating laugh at me. “Stop it!”

“What?”

“Looking like your Captain America helmet is going to implode.”

I wasn’t about to argue that the guy technically didn’t wear a helmet. There were bigger things right now to get at—and now that she’d cracked the door to
this
room in the ivory tower, like hell was I passing it up.

“No implosions,” I stated. “But I don’t think I’m the only one wanting to call out your mother on some bullshit these days.”

On the surface, my assertion didn’t ruffle her by a single feather. But I knew what to watch for now. The tightness of her lips, battling how her stomach led the charge in combatting her anxiety. The trembles of her fingers as she reached for more bread to calm it. The swing of her gaze, anywhere but back at me.

“Why don’t we just sing some camp songs? You know
The Moose Song
, right?
Bazooka Bubble Gum
?”

“Not letting you run there, sugar.”

“Do I look like I’m running, Pearson?” That kick-started little bobs of her feet—another evasion tactic disguised as nonchalance. I battled not to seethe. She’d actually gone there. With
me
.

“You don’t look or
sound
like you’re addressing my question.” In an easy sweep, I repositioned myself at her feet, grabbing both her ankles, earning me a new pierce of attention.
Here it is, man. Fresh opening. Breech, breech, breech
! I took a breath to strain that violence from my voice. “Margaux…what’s going on?” I slipped my hands to her calves, coaxing with fingertips, letting my words sink into her tension. “It started a while ago, didn’t it? Whatever’s gone down with you and your mom…it happened last year, when we were all in Chicago to put out that fire for Trey Stone.”

A few rounds of warm-warm-hot, anyone? It seemed so—and I’d just taken a giant step toward hot. The tension through her whole body, even her calves, spoke it as loudly as if she had.

“Trey Stone has nothing to do with this.”

“Didn’t say he did.” Though I highlighted her comment before stowing it into the “Coincidence or Not” file for deeper examination. “I’m talking about you and your mom. And what happened that ripped you apart in Chicago.”

Tight huff. “Nothing happened in Chicago, Michael.”

“And your shoulders just got heavier for no fucking reason.” I pressed forward, hoping it came off as concerned and not furious. Because right now, I was a lot of both. “Hiding the burden is going to be damn impossible with me, sugar.”

She swallowed hard but didn’t look away—yet didn’t appear any more ready to open to me, either. “Says the one who hid up
here
for six months?” She nodded at the treetops. “Though now, I’m beginning to understand why.”