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“This isn’t the same for me as it is for you, Your Highness,” I say, heart thumping uncomfortably. I straighten my shoulders, jutting my chin out at him.
He leans back on the sofa, stretching his legs. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re a prince, right? Royalty? You can have whatever you want, whenever you want.” I wave a hand at the luxury around us. “Look at this plane. I arrived at the castle on the train, with no privacy and a seat half the size of this one.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with us.”
“Of course you don’t.” I snort, shaking my head. “You don’t understand that for you, I’m just a bit of fun. I’m just a girl who walked into your life, who’s below your station, who has to do whatever you want me to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything I want.” His face hardens, jaw tensing.
I let out a sigh. “I don’t mean I was coerced. I’m just a girl who came to the castle. Just like a million others, probably. I mean nothing to you.”
“How would you know what you mean to me?” There’s an edge to his voice. An intensity to his gaze.
A lump forms in my throat, and I hesitate. Threading my fingers together, I squeeze my hands against each other. I take a deep breath. “You are in a position of power over me, Wolfe.”
He frowns. “Is this about the office? About the plane? I’m trying to help you.”
“It’s about the fact that I’ve worked my ass off to be a respected architect, and I don’t want you—or anyone else—to think that I’m here for other reasons.”
“You don’t think I respect you?”
Frustration bubbles inside me as I draw in a deep breath. How can I make him understand that my career means everything to me? It’s my lifeline. It’s the one thing that ensures I have to rely on no one, ever. Sleeping with him was a mistake. It was in direct conflict with my desire to be successful. It blurred the lines between us and confused me on the deepest level.
He still thinks this is a game, and he’ll toss me aside when it’s over.
But this job? This design?
It means everything to me. I left my boyfriend for this contract—not that the loss of that relationship really cut me deep, or anything, but I still gave it up. I gave up my social life to build up my business to what it is now. I put all my time and energy into my work. Everything I’ve done has been to ensure I can stand on my own two feet.
Getting involved with the Prince puts all of that into question.
“Rowan,” he says softly and damn it, my walls weaken. His gaze drills into mine, and I find myself standing up from my armchair and moving to sit next to him on the sofa when he pats the seat.
He reaches over to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I haven’t slept with anyone since Abby,” he says.
I lift my gaze to his, eyes wide. “What?”
“Why is that so surprising?” His lips tug at the corners.
I wave a hand in the general direction of his rock-hard, virile body. “I mean… You know.”
“There aren’t a million other women in my life. You’re not just one of many women on a conveyor belt in and out of my life.” He pauses, fingers drifting over my cheek. “I don’t know what you are. You’re special.”
“I’m here for work,” I say softly, but the conviction is gone from my voice. My eyes betray me, drifting down to his lips.
The Prince doesn’t hesitate. He leans toward me, pressing his lips to mine, and oh, my body gives in. I sigh into his kiss, wrapping my arms around him. I tangle my fingers into his hair and pull him close, moaning into his mouth.
It should be illegal for a kiss to feel this good. It shouldn’t be allowed for one man to have so much power and sex and masculinity imbued into every pore.
But damn, it feels good. His kiss tastes dangerous but so sweet. When he groans, it sends shivers rushing over my skin. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me over to straddle him on top of the couch. His hands run down my neck, over my chest, around my waist. Everywhere.
And I want it. I want his hands on my body, on every inch of me. I want to feel his bare skin against mine. His cock buried deep inside me. His lips between my legs. Everything. I want it all.
My hesitations and fears seem so silly when he’s tangling his fists into my hair and kissing me hard. Work doesn’t seem so important when his hips grind against mine, reminding me of everything I’ve missed while I’ve been convincing myself I don’t want him.
He pulls away from me, resting his forehead against mine. “I feel alive for the first time in years, Rowan,” he says softly. His voice gruff, as if he needs to push the words through his throat.
I let myself believe his words—that I’m special, and different, and I mean something to him. I let myself melt into his embrace and I let him kiss me senseless as my body heats up.
Maybe there’s more to life than work. I might have missed the point of all this when I’ve been so focused on providing for myself and making sure I don’t end up a burden to anyone else. Kissing the Prince feels better than work.
What if these feelings are real? What if this could work?
As my head spins, I pull away and stare in the Prince’s eyes. They’re soft. Warm. Loving. My chest constricts, and I find myself leaning my cheek against his chest.
He wraps his arms around me and lays a soft kiss on top of my head as we sit there in silence until the flight attendant reappears.
I pull away, cheeks burning, which makes Wolfe chuckle. His arm stretches out across the sofa behind me, and the flight attendant doesn’t even blink. We’re served snacks and refreshments, and I finally let myself enjoy the luxury of the flight.
