The Wild Heir(69)

She’s trying not to smile as her eyes drop to my dick.

Hard work, indeed. I’ve never been stiffer.

I run my thumbs along the waistband. “Want them on or off?”

“On,” she says quickly. “I’m having a hard time handling all of this as it is.”

“Well, I definitely have something hard for you to handle.”

She laughs, her cheeks redder than ever. But when her eyes meet mine, they’re sparkling deviously, like she’s enjoying this. “So now what? This is your plan for us to get comfortable with each other? Just you standing there in your underwear with your pants around your ankles?”

“Don’t forget my hard-on. It’s the perfect accessory.”

She shakes her head, eyes closing briefly. “Honestly, Magnus. You are such a man-child.”

“Definitely all man,” I tell her. “Touch me and find out for yourself.”

“This is way too weird,” she says as I step out of my pants, taking off my socks and pushing them to the side. Now I really am all naked except for my boxers.

“Do you want people to believe we’re comfortable with each other physically or not?”

“I…” She trails off, her eyes roaming freely all over me now, like she just gave herself permission to take me in. She licks her lips then says, weakly, “I can fake it.”

I don’t say anything to that. I’m at the point where opening my mouth isn’t doing me any good. I feel like a fucking fisherman with their line dangling in the water, waiting for hours on end to see if the fish will bite.

She comes closer to me.

Hell, it’s working.

I keep quiet, holding my breath so as not to scare her, as she reaches out and touches the Viking axe tattoo on my shoulder. “When did you get this one?” she asks.

“When I was twenty,” I tell her. “I went to Thailand, as one does. Woke up with it.”

She smiles, letting her fingertips trace the outline. My skin comes alive under her touch. “That’s not a very romantic story.”

“No. Most of my life hasn’t been very romantic, to tell you the truth. Just impulse after impulse.”

Her fingers freeze, and she gives me a sharp look.

“I mean with travel,” I assure her. “Or tattoos. Or spending money. Some days I wake up in other countries. Some days I buy a car and then leave it somewhere I don’t remember. Some days I get tattoos. Now mind you, this Viking tattoo was one I wanted for a long time. And Thailand was a place I’d always wanted to go. And I’d always wanted to drive a Ferrari for one day. It’s just that these things have an odd way of working out with me.”

“Very odd,” she says softly, gently squeezing my muscles now. “But I think that’s what I like most about you.”

“My bulging biceps?”

“Your…uniqueness. How terribly boring it is to be normal. I should know. I’m normal and I’m boring. I’m not even interesting enough to be a basic bitch.”

It breaks my heart to hear her say that.

“That is nowhere near true,” I tell her, my voice rising a bit. “You’re not boring. You’re more normal than I am but you’re not boring. You’re not basic. You’re smart as hell. You’re interesting. I’m always learning something from you, every single day. You’re not afraid to put me in my place, you keep me on my toes. You’re gracious, you’ve got a big heart, and you’ve fought really hard to become the person you are. I can tell. I know what that fight is like.”

She gazes at me with those searching eyes of hers, her face just inches from mine, and I know if I lean in just a bit, my lips will brush her lips. It takes all my restraint to stay in control.

“You’re breathing hard,” she says after a moment, her fingers resuming their path, this time across my chest which is rising and falling faster than usual.

“You’ve got me all fired up,” I tell her, my voice coming across gruff and low. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. I will always defend you, even from yourself.”

Her eyes go to my mouth and all I can think is kiss me, kiss me, and it pains me that I need this to be in her court. I swear to god, the moment she does, all hell will be unleashed. I’ve got enough pent-up sexual tension to last into the marriage and beyond.

She knows I’m thinking that too. She might even enjoy it. Again she glances at my dick and again her expression turns hot and wanton.

Her hands slide around my other shoulder and she walks around to the back of me. “I’m still not sure what you’re trying to accomplish here.”

Even though I can’t see her eyes, I can feel them on my ass.

“The British royals never touch each other like this in public,” she goes on, running her fingers gently over my shoulders. “Maybe not even in private.”

“We’re Norwegians. We do things differently.”

“Savagely,” she says, now bringing her hands down my back, her nails scratching me gently.

Oh fuck that feels good.

“Trust me,” I growl. “I’m holding back.”

“And what happens when you let go?”

I nearly let out an explicit groan. “I don’t think you’ll be able to handle me.”