Strike at Midnight(74)

“Do you?” I asked, letting everything rise to the surface. “Do you really know me?”

He went to put his hand to my cheek, but I swatted his arm away before he could touch me.

“I hunt people for a living,” I snapped. “I even like hurting them on the odd occasion. And then when my job is over, I like the fact that I can answer to no one and swear like a beast while letting whiskey burn my throat. That is my life, not yours, and not one that can even be blended with it. Don’t you understand?”

“Of course I do,” he said with a look of concern on his face. “But I don’t care about any of that, Cinderella. I just want you.”

“My name is not Cinderella,” I said loudly, and a dam burst inside of me. “I haven’t been Cinderella for a very long time. I am Rella Rosewood. A renegade hunter who drinks too much and fucks men when she sees fit.” It hurt me when he flinched at that revelation, but I pushed it aside. “Yes, I said the word fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. See? You don’t want to be with someone like me. Trust me, you don’t. My past is not a pretty one, and my present isn’t any better.” I pushed at his chest. “Go and find yourself a nice princess who hasn’t spread her legs for another man, and who is as sweet and nice as you are. Go on.”

I pushed at him again, but this time, he caught my wrists and pulled me close.

“I don’t care,” he said quietly as he looked at me with those eyes. “I just want you.”

“W-Why?” I stammered out as the vulnerability hit me out of nowhere from beneath the scrutiny of his gaze. Tears filled my eyes, and I could have cursed myself for them. This wasn’t how I had imagined this going down. I wasn’t wife material or even close to being a princess. This was wrong.

“Why?” he echoed, then he let out an exasperated laugh as if he couldn’t quite believe I wasn’t getting it. “Because you’re beautiful, and brave, and funny. You care for me; I know you do. And I know you want me. Tell me I’m wrong about that.”

I couldn’t, and try as I might, I could not drag my eyes away from his as he held me close.

“You’re caring, daring, and a little wild,” he said, the husky change to his voice making my body respond in all kinds of ways. He leaned forward so his lips were only a small distance away from my ear. “That is an intoxicating combination.”

Ripples of awareness flooded my skin as his subtle breath on my neck almost sent me over the edge. How could I resist him? How could I resist this?

Our bodies seemed to move in rhythm against each other as our breathing quickened, and then he moved his head so his lips were only inches away from my own.

“Rella,” was all he said before his lips landed on mine, and the feel of him set off a catalyst of tingles and prickles all over my body.

A groan of pleasure left my lips and he pulled me even closer so he could deepen the kiss. My mouth opened to let him in, and the feel of his tongue against mine held no comparison to anything I had ever felt in my life. Ever.

His mouth was probing and gentle, then hard, then soft. It was as if he was trying to find the right pace, but unable to decide which he preferred because he wanted all of them. He seemed to be making love to me without removing an item of my clothing, and I had to admit that was a first for me.

My head was foggy with desire as he kissed me so passionately that I wanted to cry from it, and it was at that moment that I knew I wanted to be with this man more than anything I had ever wanted in my life.

Marriage wasn’t an option for me—it never would be—and I couldn’t let the prince ruin his chances with someone who could be a possible murderer. But maybe we could be together once, like this, before we went our separate ways. It would be the perfect goodbye.

His hands grasped more tightly around me, and I held on for dear life as the fever burned so hot that my knees almost gave way. This man was a lot more daring at kissing than with his words, and the contradiction of it was gratifying. How could I ever stop kissing this man?

I had to stop kissing this man and get on with just fucking so we could move on and he could live his life as he was meant to.

My hand moved down in between his legs and I almost gasped out loud when I felt the size of him, hard against my hand. He hissed as I touched him, but he didn’t lean into it like I had expected him to. No. Not the prince. He just took my hand and put it back around his neck as he slowed down our kisses.

This wasn’t the plan, him romancing me. He could have no illusions that anything other than lust could happen between us, and he needed to understand what offer was on the table. I walked backward towards the fountain and he followed, his lips still on mine. He put his hands on my face and the pace of his tongue turned gentler and the fear trickled down my spine.

This was too good, too invasive to my emotions, and I needed it to stop. A fuck. A lay. That would do. That was all I needed. Nothing else.

When I turned, he turned with me, and that gave me the opportunity to push him down into a seating position on the fountain wall. He obeyed and kept his hands on my waist, and I lifted my gown so I could climb on his lap.

A look of surprise flared into his eyes as I settled into position, and the intensity in those swirls of gray almost stopped me in my tracks.

My heart was screaming at me to go slow, to savor everything he had to offer on every level and to let him woo me to the very end. But my head wouldn’t allow it. If we got this out of our system, he could get me out of his head, and me him. It was the perfect closure to end this farce that was happening between us, and these lustful feelings could be put to bed. Literally.