I can’t believe it has come to this.

I knew all along Elle was hiding much of herself from me. I knew there were things about her past that I didn’t know, things she kept buried deep inside. But I never thought she found those things so dreadful, so shameful, that she’d protect them like this. I never thought she’d resort to using her body to keep them from coming to light.

Elle, what has this world done to you?

I don’t want to be a part of it. Only half an hour ago, I would have gladly carried her off to bed. Spent the rest of the day devouring her. But I won’t—I can’t—do it like this. I won’t engage in her troubles any more than I already have. If she’s not willing to tell me the truth, we cannot continue this.

She hasn’t responded to me yet. I release her hand and rise to my feet. Something happened. Something so terrible in her mind that she’s desperately clinging to any opportunity she has to protect it. I know something of that anxiety, that anguish—that night with Andrew is still fresh in my mind. But while I blame myself for leading my brother into that situation, while I’ve done everything in my power to keep the truth about that night from the media, I cannot understand Elle’s fears. Not without knowing the full story.

I turn away from her and walk back over to the counter. Elle finished the first bottle of wine, so I open another. Water isn’t enough right now. As I pour myself a glass, I say, “I’ll gather my things immediately.”

I hear her twist around in her chair. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t mean for…”

When she doesn’t go on, I say, “I assure you, Elle, I am completely serious. If the media is still out there, I can go out the back. Perhaps if I climb over the fence I can escape their notice until it’s too late for them to follow—assuming your neighbors won’t mind if I dash across their property, of course. I’ll make my way to another street and call a car for myself.” Without turning to face her, I raise the glass of wine to my lips.

“I didn’t… You don’t have to go, Leo.”

I turn slowly around. “I don’t think I can stay. Not now.”

She stands. “Twenty minutes ago you were begging me to let you send the police away.”

“That was before I understood your situation—at least, before I understood how far you were willing to go to hide the truth from me.” I raise my glass again but don’t drink. “If it has come to this, Elle, it would be better if I left now.”

She crosses her arms. “So you’re walking away because I refuse to tell you everything about my past? You didn’t seem to care about my past the first time you tried to get into my pants. And it’s not like you’ve told me anything about your past, either.”

I survey her levelly across the rim of my glass. “You know quite well this isn’t about the fact that you’re keeping something from me. It’s about the fact that you were willing to use your body to do so.” And the fact that I’m not sure I can trust myself around you if you continue to make such offers. This is my chance to do the right thing by her. “If you won’t tell me what you’re hiding, I don’t feel comfortable continuing this thing between us.”

“So you finally grew a conscience? About this?”

Yes, and it is most unfortunate. I set my wine down next me on the counter.

“Elle,” I say gently, “I wasn’t asking you about your past out of some morbid curiosity. Yes, I am concerned about how whatever it is you’re hiding will affect me when it is revealed to the public, but more importantly, I am concerned about how it will affect you. If you don’t believe I’m genuine when I say that, I’m not sure what I can do at this point to convince you otherwise. I certainly doubt staying here and carrying you off to bed again will do anything to persuade you of my good intentions.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Furthermore,” I continue, “I have no interest in going to bed with a woman whose main concern is guarding her secrets. I much prefer women who want me because they want me, without conditions. You’ve accused me several times over the course of our acquaintance of using you, claims which I denied vehemently. I have no intention of allowing you to use me now.”

She blinks, and in between the flutter of her lashes I see pain flicker in her eyes. My words have wounded her, but I needed to be clear.

When her gaze focuses on me again, though, the pain is gone, and in its place is anger.

“How dare you accuse me of using you?” she says. “Sometimes it’s not about you, Your Highness.”

“Forgive me for causing offense,” I say. “I merely wished to make my point clear. I cannot go to bed with you now, not after the offer you made me. And I do not trust myself to be around you for the next few days—or even the next few hours—under such conditions. I respect you too much to take advantage of you, Elle. Even if you changed your mind now, I couldn’t trust anything that occurred between us. It is easier if I go.”

“Easier?”

“Fairer,” I say. “To both of us.”

She shakes her head. “This is ridiculous.”

“I think so too, but you leave me little choice.”

She crosses the last few steps toward me. “You know what I think? I think you’re just running. Things got complicated, so you decided it was easier to bail.”

“Things have always been complicated between us, Elle. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” My God, I want nothing more than to reach out and pull her into my arms, but I resist the urge. “But if I’m running, I’m not the only one. During this entire conversation, you haven’t once actually asked me to stay.”

“I’m not the sort of girl who begs a guy to stay with me. Especially one who’s already tried to leave me once.”

“Even now, you can’t bring yourself to do it,” I say. My voice is calm, steady, but my entire body is tense as I stare down at her. “You’re hiding behind your anger instead of examining your feelings.”

“You’re one to talk about feelings,” she counters. “The prince who’s with a different woman every week.”

“We all have our past sins,” I say. “But at least I’m willing to own up to mine.”

I’m surprised when she doesn’t slap me for that comment—for a moment, I think she might. The spark of anger in her eyes flares into pure fury—but then, just as quickly, it melts away again. In its place is something that is somehow both wild and vulnerable at the same time.

“Maybe you’re right,” she says. “Maybe I do need to be more honest about my feelings.”

She reaches out and touches my arm, and even though the fabric of my sleeve is between us, a jolt of warmth moves across the surface of my skin.

Control yourself, I think. It’s only a damn touch.

Slowly, she moves her hand up my arm to my shoulder. All the while she stares up at me, her wide blue eyes filled with that emotion I still can’t quite pinpoint. Her fingers move over my shoulder and across to my collar, finally brushing against the skin of my neck.

I grab her waist. “What are you doing?”

Her fingers pause. “Trying to be honest.”

I’m not entirely certain what she means by that, but my body is responding to the delicacy of her touch, so I don’t protest when she moves her hand up the side of my neck. Her finger starts slowly tracing the line of my jaw.

My entire body is aching for her. My hands tighten around her waist, but otherwise, I don’t let myself move. I don’t understand what she’s doing, and I don’t trust myself right now. But I can’t bring myself to stop her, either—not until I decipher that look in her eyes.

“What are you doing, Elle?” I ask her again, and my voice is lower and rougher than I intend. “What exactly are you trying to be honest about?”

Her finger has finished its slow dance along my jaw, and now she brings it to my lips. I want to suck her finger into my mouth. Want to swirl my tongue around it and taste her skin again. But I don’t.

She swallows, almost as if she’s trying to build up the courage to say something.

“I want you,” she says finally. “Just because I do. No strings attached.”

Warning bells chime in my head even as my cock throbs at her words. “Elle—”

“Don’t talk anymore,” she says, pressing her finger more firmly against my mouth. “I don’t want to argue. And I don’t want to run from my feelings anymore. I’m being honest, just like you asked me to be. I want you, Leo. Even though this is complicated. Even though it probably won’t end well. I still want you.”

She doesn’t give me a chance to respond. Instead, she pulls her finger away from my lips and rises on her toes to pull me into a kiss.

Just like the last time, I lose all sense of control at the first touch of her mouth to mine. My body is no longer my own when I’m with her—it’s completely at her mercy. I wrap my arms around her waist and yank her hard against me, and a whimper escapes her throat as her lips open further beneath mine. Her hands bury themselves in my hair as she presses against me.

Already, I find myself thinking of the possibilities. I could throw her down on the counter again, just as I’ve promised to multiple times now. Or I could take her in my arms and wrap her legs around my waist, sink into her while we’re both standing upright. I could even lower her down to the floor and have her on her hands and knees.

How could I think, even for a moment, that I had the self-control to restrain myself around her? That I could walk away from her?

My hands slide down her back and over her ass, cupping her generous curves. She moans against my mouth, then breaks away.

“Take me to bed,” she murmurs against my lips.

I can hardly deny a request like that. And I suppose her bed is as good a spot as any.

I tighten my grip on her and lift her up. Her legs hook around my waist, and she pulls my mouth down to hers again as I turn and head toward her bedroom. We’ve hardly even left the kitchen when she starts fumbling with the buttons on my shirt, tearing them open one by one. Each touch of her fingers against my bare chest sends flames of sensation rippling across my skin.

So this is Elle untamed, I think. She’s been passionate every time we’ve come together over the past twenty-four hours, but there’s a different sort of hunger in her touch now. I’m not even sure we’ll make it to her bed.

But we do. And I’m on her like an animal the moment her back hits the bare mattress. I have no idea where the bedclothes have gone—she must have pulled them off when I left earlier—but I don’t care. I tear off her pullover and then her bra, burying my face in her breasts as she undoes my belt. I almost come at the first touch of her fingers against my cock. And then I remember.

“Shit,” I say, sitting up suddenly.

Her eyes are dark and glazed with desire as she looks up at me, but her lips curl down into a frown. “What is it?”

“The condoms are in the other room,” I say. “If I don’t go grab one now—”

She squeezes her eyes shut and gives a single nod. “Go. But hurry.”

I yank my pants up just enough to allow me to walk and stumble back toward the kitchen, nearly tripping over my discarded shirt—which was left on the floor of the hallway—in the process. I curse and grab the shirt on my way into the kitchen.

I can’t remember exactly where we left the condoms, but God help me if I don’t find them quickly. I don’t want to keep her waiting, not after the way she threw herself at me. After all the time I spent seducing her, I’m thrilled she’s suddenly asking for exactly what she wants. It’s been clear from the first time I kissed her that she wants me, but this was still a very sudden change in behavior for her, especially after the conversation we just had.

I freeze. You idiot. You bloody idiot.

She wants me. The way she kissed me—the way she looked at me—made that perfectly clear. But she can genuinely want me and still be doing this for the wrong reasons. Not fifteen minutes ago, she sat here in this very kitchen and offered herself to me to keep me from asking more questions about her past. All she did was wait a few minutes longer and try the same thing again—only this time, she was subtle about it.

How could I be such a fool? I played right into her hands. Fell right into her trap.

I jerk a hand through my hair. My cock is still hard as a rock, but there’s a knot of dread in my stomach. I shouldn’t have let her kiss me. And I definitely shouldn’t have carried her back to her room with every intention of ravishing her for the next several hours.

“Leo?” Elle calls from the bedroom.

“I’ll be right there,” I call back. “Took me a minute to find them.”

But I know I can’t go back. My entire body is still tense with desire for her. If I see her again—if I see the hunger in her eyes again—I’ll lose all control. She’s nearly naked in there. I don’t stand a bloody chance.

Quickly, I shrug my shirt on over my shoulders. My only choice is to leave now. I refuse to take advantage of her. She might claim otherwise, but if I go to her now, if I take her in my arms and sink into her softness the way I want to—the way I need to—I’ll be no better than any of the other men who have hurt her. And I refuse to do that to her.

There’s no time to leave a note. No time to gather any of my things. My mobile and my wallet are in the pockets of my pants, and that should be enough to get me to Beverly Hills and Matthias. I imagine I’ll be hearing from Andrew again soon anyway, considering I successfully sidestepped his little stunt with the police.

I go out the back door, just as I suggested I could. The house protects me from the prying eyes of the media, and now I just have to climb over the chain-link fence separating Elle’s property from the neighbor’s. And pray that those neighbors don’t call the police when they see a strange man clambering into their yard.

Scaling the fence is more difficult than it should be—my feet are too large to fit easily in the links of the fence, and my entire body is tense and achy with unspent desire—but I manage to make it over without tearing my clothes, at least. When my feet hit the grass on the other side, I pause and look back.

I can’t see into the back windows from here—it’s too bright. I have no idea if Elle can see me, or if she even realizes I’m gone yet.

I’m sorry, I think. I hope one day you understand.

And then I run.