The new persona must have been wreaking havoc on his mind. How else could Hank explain inviting the sexy pastry chef up to his room? Henry would have never done that. A fast and furious fuck where he could slink away in the night without any awkward chatter or cuddling would have been his usual MO. The life of a Prince wasn’t as charmed as one might think, but there were definite perks, one of which was the ability to have casual encounters that were buffered by Her Majesty’s most highly trained officers. Lately though, it felt as though he was just going through the motions. Rather like washing his hair. Fuck, rinse, repeat. But this was different. He wasn’t His Royal Highness, he was Hank Green, import-export guy in town for a wedding. This version would have to work for it. Maybe it was the challenge that had adrenaline pumping through his veins, or maybe it was the sight of his sexy chef standing at the counter with her hip cocked to one side, but for some reason he hadn’t been ready to say goodbye. Not yet.

So instead of a quick shag followed by an even quicker getaway, he’d propositioned her. Come up to my room. He had no idea what made him do it. The words seemed to spill out of his mouth almost involuntarily, and as they did he realized how much they sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. Might as well have said “Your place or mine.” Even after their banter of sexy innuendo, a part of him had still half expected a swift decline. But while his beautiful stranger hesitated, her teeth nipping her lower lip in a way that had his cock begging to play, the look in her eyes told him she was ready for anything. Her bright green gaze had held his for a few beats then softened as she implored him to ask her again, a request he was more than happy to honor. So I can make you come all night. Christ, he’d sounded like a total wanker. But he meant every word and judging by her reaction, she was more than keen on the offer. So much so that in her haste she’d twisted her ankle, which is how he found himself carrying her up the staircase.

Hank reached the door to his room and all at once the realization that he was about to carry this woman across the threshold hit him. Not enough to quell the raging hard-on beating against the fly of his jeans, but enough to make him rethink their arrival. No sense putting any unnecessary ideas in her head. In his daily life such a gesture would have had a young woman picking out royal china patterns in her head, but his beautiful stranger seemed to be as uncomfortable as he was with the overly romantic, honeymoon-implying gesture.

“Um, you probably need to get your key out,” she said, stiffening in his arms.

Gently, Hank set her on her feet. “Good?” he asked.

She put pressure on her foot and smiled. “Perfect.”

Hank unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open. “After you.” He watched as she stepped inside, a look of astonishment crossing her face as she took in her surroundings. According to the portly woman who had given him the key to his room that afternoon, the James Madison suite was the pride of the establishment. Not only was it the largest suite in town, but everything from the canopy bed to the antique dresser complete with wash basin to the oil painting of an antebellum home that hung above the fireplace was designed to reflect the unique heritage and history of the inn.

“Nice room.”

Indeed it was. Hank had booked a standard room, but his head of security had apparently upgraded him on check-in. Something about affording a better view for surveillance. At first he had complained about the change, noting for the hundredth time his desire to keep a low profile. But now that he had his beautiful stranger in his room he was suddenly very grateful for Clayton’s last minute switch. Because as Hank followed her gaze around the room it wasn’t high-end decor he saw, but possibilities. His cock throbbed as he pictured his sexy pastry chef spread out across the oversized featherbed, then perhaps bent over the tufted chaise. Of course there was always the en suite where a double-head shower and claw-foot soaking tub waited as options as well.

“Were you expecting a crowd?” she asked with a delicate laugh. The room was a bit over the top for an “average Hank” to have booked for the weekend, but nothing compared to the suite of rooms he kept in the castle. Back home an entire wing of Ogmore was designated as his private apartment. On one hand it was a convenient commute being the length of a carpeted hallway from the “office.” But on the other, privacy was at a minimum. Acoustics in a stone castle were shit for having even so much as a discreet conversation, and with servants lurking in most passageways there was little chance of anything going unnoticed. Add to that the fact that his father and grandmum lived on the other side of the courtyard and essentially Hank was just another millennial living at home.

“There was some confusions with my reservation and I ended up with an upgrade. Although I can assure you, I’m not into an audience,” he said, his lips curving into a grin. Most of his life was spent on display in one form or another, either by design or thanks to intrusive paparazzi. But here in this quaint town, with his sexy little chef, everything was different. It was like they were in their own little bubble.

“So you said, downstairs.” The most beautiful rose color crept over her cheeks, giving Hank the distinct impression she was thinking about something else he’d said downstairs as well.

He tossed the room key on a small table by the door. “And while I wasn’t expecting anyone, I must say I’m rather glad not to be coming back to this big empty room alone. Not to mention the big empty bed.”

“Who says we need a bed?” Her wide innocent eyes were a direct contrast to the words that came out of her mouth.

He raised a brow. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Actually I’m not. My life is quite boring.” She turned toward the dresser, affording him a perfect view of her face in the reflection of the mirror. “In and out of the bedroom,” she said. The last part was barely a whisper, as if he wasn’t meant to hear.

“I find that hard to believe.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. It was the most devastating combination of sexy and sweet he’d ever seen. Part of him wanted to go to her, to hold her and kiss her and pleasure her slowly until the sun came up. But another part—a darker, more primal being—wanted to see those beautiful eyes glancing back at him as he took her from behind, his hands gripping her curves as he drove into her with a punishing rhythm until she came hard around his cock. For the moment at least, he held the dark side at bay.

“Guess I’ve just never had the nerve,” she said on a coy shrug.

“Beneath the surface of the saint beats the heart of a sinner.”

She nodded and her teeth nipped her bottom lip in a way that had him longing to feel them on his cock. “Something like that.”

“I like that,” he said. “A lot.” His voice dropped to an almost guttural growl. “It makes me want to corrupt you in so many ways.”

The claw-foot tub and the velvet chaise and even the oversized bed would have to wait. Looking into her eyes and hearing the delicate gasp that escaped her lips, Hank knew with all certainty that taking time to worship his vixen would have to wait. She knew it too.

They moved at the same time, coming together in two quick strides, all hands and lips and breathless lust. She locked her pale arms around his neck and raked her fingers into his hair, clutching him to her with a greedy intensity as they lost themselves in a searing kiss.

“I want to take this slow,” he rasped as he dragged his open mouth down her throat. “But I’m not sure I can.”

Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I don’t want slow.”

He reared back to look at her and found his vixen lost in the same salacious haze that had taken hold of him. Her skin was flushed and alive, her entire body radiating a need he was more than ready to fulfill.

His hands gripped her waist, lifting her so that she was perched atop the dresser. He slipped her shoes off, using all his restraint to take special care of the injured ankle. With a snap and a tug he eased her jeans and panties over her hips then swept them down her legs in one smooth movement. At the same time she reached for the edge of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head before tossing it to the side. He started to yank his shirttails free, but the sight of his vixen’s ample breasts covered in nothing but white lace brought him to halt. Fucking hell, she was perfect. All soft and pale and innocent. Except that was just the exterior, underneath beat the heart of a woman just as crazed with lust as he was.

“Get naked. Like, now,” she said.

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Although he couldn’t help the small laugh that rumbled through his chest. One minute held a breathless plea and the next a sassy command. The mixture of sweet and sexy was an intoxicating combination that had his cock throbbing against the button fly of his jeans. He made quick work of his clothing, chucking them to who - the - fuck - cares - where.

Her eyes widened at the sight of his straining erection. “Cheese and rice, I’m not sure if you’ll fit.”

This time there was nothing small about the laugh that vibrated through him. “That might be the best dirty talk I’ve ever heard.”

A blush crept over her cheeks. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to make her self-conscious. It was the honest to God truth. “Don’t go shy on me now, luv. I was being serious.” He glanced at his glistening erection. “I thought that would be rather obvious.”

Her gaze flicked down and then her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Christ. If he’d been wearing pants, he would have been dangerously close to coming in them.

With a sound that was more growl than groan, he surged forward, claiming her in a possessive kiss. His hand palmed one of her breasts, his fingers tracing the edges of the lace before yanking it down to free a rosy nipple that was just begging for his mouth. Lowering his head, he covered the taut peak with his lips, sucking hard before tugging it sharply between his teeth.

“Oh God,” she said on a shuddering sigh. Her head fell back against the mirror and her body arched as he slid his hand between her legs to where she was slick and hot. Sinking a finger inside her, he felt her body clench. She was as ready as he was, but so fucking tight. He eased out then back in with a second finger, keeping a steady rhythm until her hips began to circle in a silent plea for more. “Please,” she whispered. In twenty-nine years he didn’t think he’d ever been more relieved to hear a single word.

But then her head lifted and her eyes cleared. “Wait.” She was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling with each gasp of air. “Do you have . . .”

Fuck. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Condoms were a rule, not an option. And one he never forgot. Ever. “Yes, yes, one second.” Thank fuck one of them had their head on straight.

He dug through his jeans until he found the condom, then tore the foil packet with his teeth before rolling the latex down his length. When he looked up he found her watching him with a look of eager anticipation.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered. Her voice might have been quiet, but he heard her desperate need loud and clear. It was the only green light he needed.

He stepped forward, thrusting into her on a solid stroke, then stilled. She felt so good. Too good. If he moved quickly he was going to be royally fucked.

His sweet vixen sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re so deep.” Her green eyes met his and then she spoke the words that nearly undid him. “Make me come.”

With that, the last vestige of his self-control snapped. He pulled out, then powered into her again.

“Yes,” she gasped. Her voice was stronger, more demanding. “More.”

This woman would be the death of him. But it didn’t matter. Because at the moment he’d fuck himself to death if that’s what she wanted. The mirror rattled behind them as he took her over and over. Harder, faster, deeper. Her eyes drifted shut and her lips parted on a moan as he fucked her like a man possessed.

“Look at me,” he grunted between sharp thrusts. “I want to watch you come.”

Her eyes flew open and her core tightened around him. She cried out, no longer giving two fucks about who heard her. He loved seeing her like that, lost in her orgasm, lost in him. He stayed with her, thrusting into her with slick, relentless strokes until her body began to quake. Only then did he give himself over to the sensations, driving to the hilt one last time before burying his face in her neck as he found his own release.

They leaned against each other, all harsh breath and damp skin, until the tremors began to subside.

“That was . . .”

Hank straightened and brushed a stray curl off her face. “Only the beginning.”

“It was?” There wasn’t a trace of lethargy in her voice.

“Oh yes.” Still buried inside her, he brushed his lips softly against hers. “There are so many possibilities in this room.”

She swallowed hard but there was an undeniable glint of intrigue in her eyes. “Is that so?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed. “And I intend to fully explore each and every one.”