Paris and the Prince: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (Royal Weddings Book 1) (5 page)

P
aris was completely dumbfounded
by the “hotel room,” which was actually about 20 times bigger than her apartment back home. The foyer alone had its own chandelier identical to the one in the lobby, hanging above a marble table decorated by a crystal vase filled with beautiful peach tulips. The scent of fresh flowers filled the entire room, and Paris felt her head swimming with the loveliness of it. She almost didn't want to go further into the hotel room, afraid to touch anything, and also afraid nothing could match her feelings in this moment. She didn't even realize that Alex was smiling at her, expectantly.

“Would you like me to bring you a chair? You look so happy in here.”

Paris laughed, realizing how ridiculous she must look. She looked down in embarrassment.

“No, no. I'm sorry. The flowers, the lighting... it's just so... overwhelming. I got kind-of lost there for a minute.” She raised a hand to her cheek. “I’m a total bumpkin for saying that, aren’t I?”

Alex laughed. “I don’t know what a ‘bumpkin’ is, but I doubt you are that.”

Alex reached out his hand, and Paris took hold of it, relishing the tingling she felt in her fingers when they intertwined. As they walked further into the room, she couldn't believe how overwhelmingly lush the room was, and she couldn't even see the bedroom yet, which was set off from the main room by a set of huge double doors. The sitting area had massive plush couches, all surrounding the biggest flat screen TV Paris had ever seen in her life. Taking up the entire right side of the wall was a bar, filled floor to ceiling with full-size bottles of liquor, glowing greens and blues on top of lit shelves. Paris fought to keep her jaw from dropping open, which was proving to be a challenge.

“Alex... this is insane. What do you do for a living? That you can afford to stay here? This is
not
a normal hotel room.”

As he expertly shook a martini shaker, Alex looked off into the distance sheepishly.

“Oh, a bit of this and that. You know how it is, many irons in the fire, as they say.”

He was avoiding giving her a straight answer. Suddenly she was aware of how foolish she was—in a strange city, with a strange man, and no one knew where she was. And the strange man—as charming and generous as he had been—was
not
telling her the truth. Of that much she was certain.

Paris suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and all her survival instincts kicked in. She wrapped the handles of her bag around her arm and eyed the fastest exit back to the elevator in case she had to run.

“Alex... are you a drug dealer?”

Alex laughed so hard he almost dropped the martini shaker. Paris’ shoulders relaxed slightly.

“No, Paris. I am most assuredly not a drug dealer. Nor do I do anything illegal. I just do a bit of work for the government here and there, and it provides me with a comfortable lifestyle. Let’s just say the company I work for covers the cost of my travel arrangements, and they spare no expense. Now, would you like to try this amazing adult concoction I've whipped up for you, or would you like to see my bank accounts?”

Paris felt her whole body relax. It still wasn't an actual answer, but it was obviously as close to an answer as she was going to get tonight. And if Alex was a spy or some super-secret government operative, as she was starting to suspect, Paris didn't really want to know about it anyway.

Spending a night with a James Bond doppelganger wouldn’t be so bad, now would it?
Paris’ mind was racing. Uptight, straight-laced, goody-two shoes. That’s what she had always been—always too careful to do something reckless and impulsive. Well, there was no time like the present to get started. One last hurrah before she had to settle down to her studies once more.

She took the frosted glass from Alex's strong hand and sipped a taste of the first alcoholic beverage she'd had in longer than she would have cared to admit. It was sweet, with a hint of fresh honey, but the flavor of jasmine and ginger lingered behind, and Paris had to stop herself from gulping the whole thing down at once. It was truly the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

So lost was Paris in the drink that she hadn't noticed Alex plop down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and a long, warm sweater replacing the t-shirt and leather jacket he'd had on when they came in.

“Do you mind if I put on the telly? I so rarely get to just sit down and watch a film these days.” His accent was so charming and he shot her a boyish grin. He nodded to a spot on the couch near him, and Paris smiled and sank down beside him.

Paris kept sipping away at her drink, totally lost in the sheer elegance of it all, and finding herself staring at Alex's perfect face. Men were not supposed to have faces as elegant and strong as his; it took all of her rapidly dwindling will to tear her gaze from him and look up at the television.

Flickering away on the huge screen was an old film with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck, two of Paris' favorite people in the world. Before she knew it, the drink was gone, and Alex was holding his arm out, gesturing for her to nuzzle in and watch the film wrapped in his arms.

It was a dream.

He was like a dream, and she was snuggled up against the soft fabric of his sweater before her mind even had time to register what her body was doing. The scent of him was musky, but clean and like the forest after a rainstorm.

Every time he laughed at something in the movie, her head would bounce with the rise and fall of his chest. She loved the sound of his laugh, so close to his heart. How had she ended up here, with this gorgeous man about whom she knew so little? Even as she intellectually suspected there was something strange about this situation, her entire being was lost in the utter romance of it all.

His fingers were stroking her hair, playing with her dark curls, something she normally hated, but with him it felt soothing and calming. As Alex's arms wrapped ever-tighter around her, Paris knew she was falling for this random stranger, and there was no going back.

Paris realized she'd actually been staring up at Alex while she was thinking, and he was no longer looking at the TV, but at her. The smile on his face was sweet, welcoming, and yet somehow, surprisingly nervous. He reached up and ran his hand gently through the length of her hair, seeming to relish the softness of it, its wildness.

When he moved in to kiss her, Paris felt her entire body light up at even the anticipation of his touch. His kiss was tender and loving, all-consuming, enveloping her body and soul. She leaned into him, letting her legs become entangled with his on the couch, relishing the feel of his warm body as it meshed with hers.

Something overtook Paris, an electricity coursing through her veins that she'd never felt in her life, and she pounced on Alex, straddling his strong waist and tightening her legs against his outer thighs. The look on his face was one of pure surprise, first, and then one of delirium, and the total desire to taste every inch of Paris' body.

Paris slid her hands up underneath Alex's sweater, feeling every ripple and curve of his perfectly muscled chest. Alex lifted his arms, allowing Paris to lift his sweater over his head, giving her access to his sculpted shoulders, his wickedly prodigious collarbone. She couldn't stop herself; she kissed her way across his warm, tanned skin, savoring his manly smell, the lingering hint of his cologne at the end of the day.

Paris let her fingertips drift up and down Alex's powerful arms, relishing the feel of his hard body trembling under her touch. As she ran her hands all the way up to his thick hair, he let his own hands drift up the length of her back, lifting her shirt over her head. She didn’t protest, letting herself be swept away in the moment.

With her shirt tossed casually aside, Alex stopped and just began to stare at Paris, now sitting in his lap, clad in only her pale pink bra and jeans. She started to feel a little self-conscious.

“What... are you staring at?”

Alex let his hands drift all over Paris' curves, her soft stomach, her full, mesmerizing breasts, and just continued to stare in frenzied wonder.

“You're just so stunning. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so exquisite as you.”

His words echoed in her brain, hardly seeming real. No one had ever said anything of the sort to her before, and words like “stunning,” and “exquisite,” were certainly not words she would ever have thought applied to herself.

Paris was overcome with affection for the adoration filling Alex's eyes. She'd never experienced anything like it, and she couldn't get enough. She kissed him this time, tasting every bit of him, letting her tongue explore the inner reaches of his mouth, her hands running through his thick, soft hair. They pressed against each other in a mad embrace, her heart pounding as Alex gently bit her lip and softly squeezed her ample breasts. Paris' breath caught in her throat, her sex on fire at the sensation of Alex's rigid manhood against her thighs.

Paris' vision began to blur from desire, her mind lost in a flurry of sensations, as Alex's big hands gripped her around the waist and lifted her effortlessly from the couch and straight into the air, her legs locking around his muscular torso. As he carried her toward the bedroom, she kissed his neck and shoulders as if she were starving for the taste of his skin. His strong arms held her aloft, his hands gripping her curvaceous ass, holding as tight as he could without hurting her. With one quick movement, Alex flung open the doors to the bedroom, and for a brief moment, Paris was distracted from her desire.

The bedroom looked as if it had been lifted straight from a fairytale. A huge canopy bed, draped in gauzy fabric and piled high with lovely satin pillows, sat in the center of the room. Twinkle lights filled every corner, and the art on the walls was like nothing she had ever seen before, elegant and abstract. But most remarkable of all was the view from the huge French doors: the midnight lights of Paris, sparkling and beautiful, the Eiffel Tower massive and bright, almost within touching distance. Paris thought she might cry, wrapped in the arms of a man who seemed intoxicated by her, and her of him, in this most perfect of bedrooms, in this most perfect of cities.

Suddenly, Alex was whispering into her ear, “It's almost as beautiful as you...”

A small voice in Paris’ brain wondered if he had whispered those words to other women in this room before. Was she just another in a long line of pick-ups?

As she felt his touch on her bare body though, she realized she didn’t care. Even if she only had one night with this man—the sexiest man she had ever met—she would enjoy the memories for the rest of her life.

Paris wrapped her arms around Alex's neck and kissed him passionately, letting her fingertips trace the length of his spine, feeling the electric current run through her body. Alex carried her over to the bed and lay her gently down on the downy comforter. Her whole body thrilled at the combination of sensations: Alex's hands on her stomach, the satin sheets on her back, the smell of roses and gardenias filling the whole room. She barely even noticed as Alex slowly pulled away her jeans, kissing and nibbling the soft flesh of her thighs as he slid them off and dropped them to the floor. Before she even had time to register what was happening, Alex had kicked off his own trousers and pulled off the rest of his clothes.

Now, Paris was aware of everything: Alex reaching up and unclasping her bra, his hand cupping the fullness of her breasts, his lips kissing their way down her stomach, bypassing her underwear and moving to her thighs, letting his lips graze the sensitive skin of her legs as his other hand traced the lines of her calf. Paris felt like she was losing her mind, a prisoner of her sublime need. She wanted more of him, all of him. Her hands reached out to feel any part of him she could, her sex practically aching for him.

Alex anticipated her need, and didn't make her wait any longer. In one elegant move, he slid her panties off and sidled up next to her, kissing her deeply, tracing her lips with his tongue. While she was distracted by his soft lips on hers, he ran one hand down the length of her body, and down to her pussy, where he slipped first one, then a second finger inside her warmth.

Paris' body rose to meet every impetus of his long, graceful fingers, playing inside her as his thumb pressed against her clit. He played her expertly, as if she was a glorious stringed instrument, and he was a maestro. Unexpectedly, Paris felt a wave of orgasm washing over her, never having been touched in this way before, with such ravenousness, with such ardent longing. She cried out, her hands tangling themselves in his hair as she begged him for more.

But Alex wasn't ready to let Paris go that easily. With a sly smile, and a quick kiss, he removed his hand from between her legs, licking her wetness from his fingers as she watched on, mesmerized. Then, he began kissing every inch of her body that he could, from her shoulders, down her arms, hands, fingers, chest, all over her breasts, stopping to lavish attention on her pert nipples, then down her stomach, across her abdomen, and coming to rest in the soft, dark curls between her thighs.

She was momentarily embarrassed, but that quickly evaporated as she saw the look of unadulterated desire in his eyes. With delicate flicks of his tongue, he began exploring every inch of her, inside, outside, licking up every drop of her, leaving nothing to waste.

Paris' hips bucked, completely enraptured by the feel of his lips on her, the glorious torment of tongue just inside of her. She began crying out, begging for things she'd never asked for in her life.

“Alex, please. Please, I want you to fuck me. Please...” Her coarse language spoke to her need of him, her overwhelming ache to have him inside her.

His eyes met hers from the end of the bed: a flash of concern, a glimmer of compassion. He slid his hands slowly up her body, gently squeezing and kissing up the same path he'd taken down her body, now dripping in the perspiration of unadulterated need.

When he'd met her eyes again, face to face, he softly kissed the tip of her nose, then delicately kissed her mouth before whispering, “Are you sure? I don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with...”