His Virgin Princess. Grace Goodwin
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when he’d looked at me, standing so darn tall and dark and handsome, my insides did melt a little. And other places, too.
I’d thought he’d want me to turn around, but no. A slow smile spread across his face as he’d shucked off his filthy clothes, exposing inch by glorious inch of his hard body. Perhaps he was a touch leaner than usual since being left for dead, but he still looked incredible. Broad shoulders, tons of olive-colored, toned skin. He had black hair on his chest, a smattering of it that tapered down to his navel—an innie—and then to a thin line that went beneath his pants. And when he’d pushed off those pants, I’d discovered he didn’t wear underwear. He was also very erect and when he saw me ogling, he grew harder. Longer, the bulbous head curved up toward his belly and…whoa, that was going to fit in me? Everywhere? Just because I gave him a BJ in a dream didn’t mean it was going to fit down my throat. Or in my bottom.
My nipples hardened and my inner walls clenched at the thought.
Only when I realized I was staring, wide eyed, mouth open, had I looked away. My cheeks flushed as hot as the water in the tub. He’d turned, went into the bathing tube and started scrubbing. And the view from behind wasn’t half bad either.
Now, watching him lather up those muscular pecs and dense thighs had my ovaries jumping for joy.
“Do you have family worried about you?” I asked.
His hands stilled on his belly and I wished I could climb in and wash him myself, run my palms over every inch of him. I was sure he wouldn’t mind, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I had no clue what I was doing, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself. At least not until after our first kiss.
“My mother died when I was two. I don’t remember her at all.”
“And your father?”
“He has been gone for nearly a year. The ascension ceremony is scheduled to take place on the anniversary of his death.”
“I’m sorry.” I was. I could practically feel his pain radiating from him. Such a strong body. Strong, warrior spirit. Seeing him hurting was worse than feeling the pain myself. “What was he like?”
“He was strong. Honorable. A member of the Seven. A true prince. I can only hope to live up to his legacy.”
“As a prince?” Did he mean that in the I’m from a royal family way, or was that just a title they gave high level politicians on Everis? I had no idea. But I was no princess. I felt more comfortable in hiking boots than a tiara.
“As a man.” He stood proudly, staring at me, the hunger in his eyes so intense I would swear I could feel his touch from across the room. The water ran over his healed body, dripping and following every curve. Every shadow. Lower. God, he was magnificent. Huge. Everywhere. I glanced up to see he enjoyed my inspection. Without doubt, I didn’t have the acting ability to hide my lust for his perfect body.
“What about other family?”
“My parents weren’t Marked Mates so my father mated a second time. Again, not a Marked Mate.”
“I heard finding your Marked Mate is rare.” I moved my hand across the surface of the water, playing with the few bubbles, trying like hell to ignore the heat coming off my mate, and not the physical kind. I’d never wanted a man like I wanted him, and the wait was making me edgy, hyper-aware of everything. The coolness of the air on my shoulders, the heat of the water, the popping of bubbles on my sensitive nipples.
“It is. Very rare. My father died almost a year ago. What is a mate of your parent called on Earth?”
“Stepmother or stepfather.”
“Then I have a stepmother, Mauve, and a stepsister, Rayla, who is three years younger than I. Rayla was from Mauve’s first mate, who was killed hunting a bounty on a Prillon criminal.”
“No other brothers and sisters? Uncles? Cousins?”
He shook his head, turned and tilted his head back to wash his hair. It was shaggy, a slight shadow of beard on his face making him look dark and dangerous and sexy. So sexy. I devoured him with my eyes.
“No. None. I am the heir to my father’s seat on the Seven. My family descends from the original ruling families. I am a prince to my people, and you, Danielle, will be their princess.”
Princess? Me? Dani from Florida. A princess? Insane.
I had to look away to form a coherent thought about something besides being the central character of a Disney movie. I couldn’t even sing. I was too skinny. Too small. I didn’t have the curves to fill out that kind of dress. I didn’t talk to mice, or birds, or any other kind of creature. I hunted deer and ate them for dinner. I didn’t talk to them or dance in the woods singing songs to squirrels. I wasn’t regal or refined, and the ridiculous wave I saw the royals do on television back on Earth would give me carpal tunnel. Seriously? What were we talking about? Me? Royalty?
No.
Family. Right. I cleared my throat and pushed all princess thoughts aside. “I don’t have any family either. I don’t remember my mother. She didn’t die, she just decided she needed to go back to the city. She left when I was four, to go off with the yoga instructor from the recreation center in town. I heard they got married and moved to California.”
Gage was lathering his hair now and I ended my words. Watching him was more interesting than my worthless mother. And it wasn’t just his gorgeous face I was ogling. With his arms up, his back arched and in profile, his cock thrust out and up from his body. I couldn’t miss it. I licked my lips, remembering the soft feel of the skin, the taste of the bead of fluid that came from the tip in my dreams. How hard it was. Hot. How it pulsed against my tongue.
“And your father?” he asked.
I felt the familiar pang of sadness when I thought of my dad, but I no longer felt lonely. My heart was slowly being filled by Gage.
“My father died last year. He taught me everything I know about surviving in the wilderness. He was a hunting and fishing guide. Took people into the wetlands to hunt, to the rivers to fish. We spent at least two months in the mountains up north in Montana every summer. He was a good man. A great father.”
The shower shut off and he opened the tube door. Came out. I stared as he walked to the tub, his body dripping with water, his muscles flexing and bunching as he moved with confidence. Ease. Even with a big club between his thighs.
“I am sorry that he has passed on to be with the Gods.”
I blinked furiously. I would not cry now. So, I nodded.
“Before my mark flared to life, I was expected to marry Rayla,” he said, and I was thankful he moved back to his soap opera life. “The royal engagement has already been announced.”
My mouth fell open. Definitely soap opera. “You’re engaged to your sister?”
He grinned as he slid into the tub, sank down until his shoulders sank beneath the water and moved right in front of me. Placing his hands on the edge of the tub on either side of my head, I was pinned in place. “Not by blood. She is well-loved by the people, a commoner who would become a princess. She is kind and selfless, involved in many organizations that help the common people.”
Holy shit. He did not just use the word common in relation to his sister. Stepsister. Whatever.
“Is she beautiful?” I wanted to smack myself for asking that, but the damn words popped out before I could rein in the little green monster roaring to life inside me. Jealousy was a bitch, and I really didn’t want to hate my future sister-in-law.
“Yes. She is.” He lifted his hand to my hair, held a strand in his fingers as his gaze dropped to my lips. “But not as beautiful as you are.”
I blushed; I couldn’t help it, not with him looking at me like he was ready to pounce. I wanted to yell at him to hurry up, but I was trapped like a deer in the headlights, frozen.