The Controversial Princess (The Smoke & Mirrors Duology #1)(38)

Nose to nose with me, lips almost touching, he breathes in my face. “Actually, I’m a cocky American asshole. But whatever. To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

My smile is unstoppable, and so is the want flooding me.

“Kiss me, Your Highness,” he whispers, and that’s all it takes. One order, and I am his. I push my lips to his and drop the sponge in my hand so I can hold his shoulders. Soft lips roam mine, a soft tongue swirls through my mouth, and his body softens against me, molding to my every curve, fitting perfectly. He smiles around my mouth—happy he has me—and nibbles gently on my bottom lip. It is worlds away from the command he had over me last night, but commanding nonetheless. And the sense of freedom that sweeps through my body with the pleasure indicates I really am in trouble here. His soft touch caresses my cheek as his eyes wander across my face. “How’s your ass?” he asks, sliding a palm down to my bottom and stroking gently. “Sore?”

“Yes.”

“Regret it?”

“No.”

He grins and smacks me lightly on my bottom. “Me neither.”

“You hardly suffered.” I laugh, pushing him off my body to free myself. We’re at the stables. Anyone could walk right in at any second.

“I assure you, I suffered.”

“How?”

“When I left,” he answers candidly, and I shoot him a surprised look. His shoulders shrug under his shirt, his smile shy and boyish. “Don’t make a big deal of it.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“You didn’t want to leave?”

“It was the last thing I wanted to do, actually.”

I don’t know what to do with that information. Or even know what to say, and I think Josh must sense that because he jumps in with a quick subject change. “So, you gonna teach me how to ride, or what?”

“Yes,” I answer without thought, because—and maybe I should be worried about this—I want to spend more time with him. More time when he is not whipping me into submission, that is.

Josh smiles, a knowing smile, one that I mirror on a shake of my head. What has this man got me doing? “We’ll call it our first date,” he declares, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Where do we start?”

“We need to saddle up.”

His rubbing hands cease to rub, his eyebrow hitching in interest. “I like the sound of that.”

“Of course you do.” I laugh, fetching Stan’s saddle.

“Stan?” Josh questions, looking at his name above the wooden peg. “What about Spearmint?”

“He’s in training. He has already been over exercised today.” I dump Stan’s saddle in Josh’s arms and grab his bridle. “And I don’t know him well enough to trust him with a beginner. Stan’s reliable. I know him best after riding him for the past seven years.”

“Lucky Stan,” Josh quips, following me back through the stables. “What do I have to do to earn those privileges?”

“What, me riding you every day?” I ask over my shoulder, laughing when Josh moves the saddle down over his groin area, giving me a warning look. The thrilling feeling of knowing I can have the same effect on him as he does on me satisfies me deeply. “Okay?” I ask.

His jaw tenses from his clenched teeth. “Ever got the feeling you might regret something?”

I laugh on the inside, hysterical laughter, because there is a potentially huge regret following me. “As a matter of fact, yes.” I offload Stan’s bridle and relieve Josh of the saddle. “You need to change.”

Josh looks down his front. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Those trousers don’t look like they have much stretch.”

He bends at the knees until they pull taut. “Sure they have.”

“Suit yourself.” I continue saddling Stan, quick and efficient after years of practice.

“What’s that you’re doing?” Josh asks, making me smile. He’s like an inquisitive child.

“Making sure Stan’s girth strap is not too tight.” I slip two fingers between the leather and his ribs. “Always two fingers.”

“Two fingers? This gets better.”

“You are incorrigible.” I chuckle, nodding to the stable door for Josh to open, which he does speedily on a charming smile.

“Your Highness.”

“Thank you,” I say as I pass him, tugging Stan’s side reins until he clip-clops after me. “Sir.”

“Adeline.” My name is a warning, delivered slow and clearly, and I secretly smile, playing Josh Jameson’s game with way too much ease. “If you’re lucky”—Josh falls into stride beside me, dipping to get his mouth close to my ear—“for letting me ride your horse, I might let you ride me later.”

“Very lucky me,” I whisper back, every nerve ending in my body sizzling electrifyingly. I am struggling so badly to repel the effect he has on me. His game is too easy to play, too much fun, and the sense of abandon is all too addictive. I pull Stan to a stop where the hats are stored, grabbing mine from the hook before selecting a suitable one for Josh. “I’m really not sure if we have a hat that’ll fit your big head,” I say seriously, scanning the rows.