He has tattoos.

Never in my life would I have imagined that one of the royal princes of Dubreva would have a wonderful sculpted chest with ink displaying a pattern of blacks and grays. As I peel his shirt off in the elevator of the Dubrevian palace, I can’t help but run my fingers over them. I love a tatted man.

They look delicious. He looks delicious.

And he’s all mine.

Henry Spencer di’Vale of Dubreva. Cousin to the crown prince of Dubreva, and a billionaire playboy in his own right. I know this. And he knows that I know this. And neither of us fucking care.

After a long flight from New York to Dubreva, handling everything for Jessica Croft, my media mogul boss, and dealing with a very public party for a Formula One race, I need to let loose. It just happens to be with a really hot—and tattooed—prince in the elevator of the Dubrevian Palace. This is the stuff that romance novels are made of.

“You’re a saucy minx, aren’t you?” he breathes into my ear before he nips the lobe. His voice is an interesting mix of accents, Dubrevian—something between Italian and French—and Australian, and it’s unlike anything I’ve heard before. “Lucky for you, I like saucy.”

A gasp escapes my mouth as he hikes my leg up around his waist, his hand trailing up my skin, all the way up to my thong. He cups my ass to him as I grind along his waist, trying to undo the belt of his silky suit. It’s high quality, probably no less than five thousand dollars, which is mind-blowing. Five thousand dollars is a lot of money to me, but I can’t help but think that his body deserves nothing less.

Luckily, no one stops the elevator. No one sees Prince Henry with Catherine Collins, personal assistant to the CEO and owner of Croft Media Group.

Perfect.

“You’re a race car driver?” I ask breathlessly. Damn it, why can’t I get this belt undone? “Does that mean you like to go fast?”

He draws back and gives me a heavy-lidded look, a sensual smile coming to his luscious lips. His thick hair is dark and he has dark eyes to match. “I can go fast and slow.” Oh god, that accent. “However my lady wishes.”

“Your lady?” I tease, feeling the heat in my cheeks rise to the same level as the heat between my legs. I’ve never been called a lady before, and I can’t believe what that simple word is doing to my insides.

It makes it sound like I matter to him. That he cares about me, even though we just met downstairs. Sure, I’d had one too many drinks from the bar—I think Dubreva has deceptively strong alcohol because I had a few and it didn’t affect me at first.

But then I was introduced to Henry and immediately felt lightheaded. Not that it mattered—I think he’d give any woman the sense of feeling drunk.

Especially with him smiling at me like this.

“Yes, my lady.” His finger finds its way under the strap of my thong and he ever so slowly slips it over my hip. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

I finally undo his belt enough and unzip his pants, giving me access to his considerable length. I palm the velvety skin in my hand and give him a long stroke. I hear his breath hitch in his throat as he puts his forehead on mine.

“I’ll be your lady if you’ll let me,” I whisper.

The elevator dings as we reach our floor. Our eyes meet, and I feel the sense of panic that we’re going to get caught.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a cute way as he steps back from me. “To be continued.” I notice that his voice is hoarse. I also notice that he doesn’t even zip himself up.

Oh, god, I hope his room isn’t too far from the elevator.

My pulse hammers in my chest as I wait for the doors to open.

Good thing we had disentangled, because there’s a flustered-looking butler in a uniform standing there. He eyes me suspiciously, then he looks at Henry and his eyes widen. I know what he’s thinking and he’s absolutely right. My dark curls are all a mess right now and my dress doesn’t quite sit right on me. And Henry is pretty much half-dressed.

“Y—your Highness?” he manages.

Henry gives him a lazy smile. “Carry on, sir,” he says gesturing for the butler to come inside. That same hand snakes through my own and he tugs me out of the elevator. I give the butler a sly wink as the doors close. The butler looked flabbergasted.

“Do you do this often? Take girls home to the palace?” I ask Henry as he leads me down the hallway. He stops a few doors down, much to my relief. I don’t think my weakening knees would be able to carry me much further.

Henry looks back at me and grins. “When I was younger, yes. But I’ve been overseas for the past few years.”

“Australia?”

I’ve only been Jessica’s assistant for a few months now—ever since she divorced her asshole husband—but I hadn’t seen much of the world. Dubreva is my first time outside of the United States, and every place seems exotic to me.

His eyes glint as he opens the door and gestures for me to step inside. And—holy shit, do the rich live so much better than normal people. I thought Jessica’s suite at the Palais Dubrevs was amazing, but this…this is pure opulence.

I try not to show my amazement though. I learned a long time ago to hide my feelings. And…to just enjoy life.

“Play your cards right, and I’ll take you to Australia,” he says behind me.

I raise an eyebrow as I glance back at him. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” He grins again, devastatingly handsome, and I think I’m about to lose myself then and there. “For now, though, I want to take you somewhere else.”

His lips crash against mine as the door shuts behind him. Now, without the threat of someone walking in on us, we’re tearing off each other’s clothes. I even hear a stitch in his trousers pop as I take them off too roughly.

“Sorry,” I mutter against his lips. A panicked thought crosses my mind, that his pants are probably a whole month’s salary for me.

He pulls back and grins. “No worries.” His fingers find the zipper of my dress and he undoes it with practiced care. “That’s one thing about being a race car driver—you have to know when to go fast.” He kisses my neck as I arch against him. “And when to take the curves slow.”

The zipper goes all the way past my ass and he easily slips the straps over my shoulder, my breasts spilling free as my dress pools around my feet. He kisses one swell and I gasp at the touch.

“Bed,” he growls, picking me up against him as he walks both of us to the bed. I’ve never been more thankful for my petite size than I am in this moment—usually it puts me at a disadvantage.

Not this time.

We fall into the bed, and his lips are on mine again as he coaxes my thong down my hips. Even though the room is dark, I’m so glad I wore black tonight. I didn’t expect to meet a prince, and I certainly never imagined this.

I can feel his length between my thighs as he positions himself at my entrance. No one has any right to be this big. I manage to hide my gulp as I look up into his eyes. There’s a momentary look of panic as he reaches across the bed, digging, I’m sure, for a condom.

“I’m on the pill,” I assure him.

“I’m clean,” he says.

I grin at him as he kisses me again.

There’s a niggling at the back of my mind, trying to put together when the last time I took my birth control had been. It was before we left New York. What day is it? What difference did the time zone make? I’m a PA, I should be able to keep track of these things.

And then he slides himself all the way in, up to the hilt, and I call out roughly, seeing stars dance across my vision at the sensation. He fills me up, and I’ve never felt so damn complete before.

“Oh, just wait,” he says slyly, as he wraps my legs around him.

True to his word, he knows when to take it fast and when to take it slow. I grasp at his back as he slides in and out of me, taking me just to the edge before easing up, teasing me. Sounds come out of my mouth and I don’t even know what I’m saying at points.

All I know is that he makes me feel like a billion dollars.

“Come for me, Cat,” he whispers, rubbing at my sensitive nub.

I explode around him, calling out his name. I can’t help that my fingernails run down his tattooed back, nor that I look away as I arch my back away from him. I can feel myself clenching around him, and that seals it for him.

He comes, emptying himself into me with a rough shout, and then buries his face in my neck, running his teeth along my skin before kissing it.

We stay like that for a few moments, both our chests heaving as sweat drips off our bodies. He pulls himself out and lays to my side as he fondles one of my breasts, tweaking the nipple and sending waves of pleasure through me.

“That was…” I whisper, amazedly. There are no words for what we just did.

For a minute, I think he can’t find any words either, because he grins devilishly at me. Then he says, “Want to do it again?”

* * *

Sunlight seeps in through the gauzy curtains, and I can’t help but sigh contentedly as I stretch alongside the solid male body next to me. We fell asleep spooned against each other, with him curled up against my back.

Possessively, his arm tightens around me. My stretch must have woken him because he kisses my neck, then my shoulder. I can feel that he’s all ready to go for another round, despite the fact that we had had sex three times last night. No, wait, there was a fourth time in the shower. If you counted giving him a blow job as sex.

I must not be sated either, because I twist in his arms and grin up at him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

Geez, even bleary-eyed and on only a few hours of sleep, he’s still gorgeous. I wonder if he is looking at me right now and cursing himself for how drunk he must have been to sleep with me. Because Cat Collins and Henry Spencer di’Vale are nowhere near in the same league.

But he smiles at me, the curve of his impossibly kissable mouth genuine as he holds me with his gaze. His fingers glide along my bare skin, and my shiver broadens his smile.

He tilts his head to me. “My lady.”

Oh, god, that sounds even sexier this morning. My lady parts are as ready for another round as he is, and I lean forward to kiss him. He deepens the kiss, pulling me to him.

I could stay like this. Hell, I could live like this. And I don’t mean the super plush bed or the satin sheets or the huge bedroom. No, I mean I could spend a lot more time with Henry. He makes my insides quiver. I can’t help but watch his tattooed bicep bulge, those patterns stretching over the muscle. I’m transfixed by them.

I trail my finger down the tattoos on his pec, pausing at the name Elizabeth. Admittedly, it’s weird to realize that the man you slept with last night has another woman’s name permanently inked into his chest.

He looks down at where my gaze is focused, then smiles sadly. “My mother,” he says. “She died when I was eighteen.”

“Oh.” I feel awkward now that I know what it signifies, when I had been jealous only moments before. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.” He smiles at me and kisses me, immediately smoothing over that patch of anxiety. “By the way, I’ve been thinking about that promise of taking you to Australia,” he murmurs softly.

I give him a doubtful look. “Oh?”

He lays with his head in his hand. “Yeah. You should give me your phone number so I can call you when my private jet takes off. Just be sure to bring your passport. And a sexy bikini. Oz has some great beaches.”

“Oz?”

He snickers. “Australia to you Yanks.”

“Is this just a way of getting my phone number?”

“Possibly. Are you willing to risk a free trip if I’m sincere?”

I laugh. “Where’s your phone?” I’ve had guys ask for my number before, but never with the promise of flying me all the way across the world. I’m willing to take him up on that crazy offer.

He grins. “On the nightstand over there.” He gestures with his thumb over his shoulder and I sit up to see the iPhone perched on the ledge.

I kiss him once and straddle him to grab it. He groans underneath me as I type in my number. Thankfully, I have the presence of mind to put in the international code. Being a PA and calling internationally multiple times a day has broken me of the habit of just typing in the area code and the number.

“There,” I said, putting the phone back. “But you’ll have to give me a little notice before the trip.”

He grasps my hips and grinds against me. I gasp and lean forward, capturing his mouth with mine.

“How’s that for notice?” he says, cupping me to him.

“I need a little longer.”

“What about today?” he asks huskily. I can feel him between my legs again, ready to glide in. “We don’t even have to go to Oz. Just stay here. And I can take you wherever you want to go.”

“Your bad pickup lines are starting to wear on me.” No, they’re not, but I’m not going to let him know that. Instead, I playfully bite his lip, closing my eyes to revel in him. His scent. His body. Him. “I’ll have to help out Jessica today, anyways.”

I hear a low rumble in his chest. “Mmmm, no, you don’t.”

I give a short laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

I pause and my eyes snap open. “What?”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Just blow it off. Stay here with me.” He grins at me with that same debonair smile, but it’s lost some of its effect.

I draw back and shake my head. “No. I, mean—” I glance at the clock. It’s after eight in the morning. Jessica is usually up and about earlier than that, and I have to be there because we have some teleconferences booked that I have to take minutes for, I have to review her memos before they go out, screen her emails, schedule the rest of the week—and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

“It’s my job, Henry.”

He raises a quizzical eyebrow. “So take the day off.”

I stare at him, aghast. “No. I can’t just take the day off. I have work to do. Important work.”

“Really? As a personal assistant?” He gives me an unimpressed look.

I watch him incredulously, not believing that he has this attitude towards my job. My career that I’ve sacrificed so much for. Sure, being a personal assistant doesn’t seem like the most glamorous job in the world, but I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this job, because I believe in what Jessica does.

I want to be a part of it.

I want to make a difference, and helping tell the news as it should be is the best way I can help.

“It is an important job,” I say one last time, hoping this is some cruel joke. Sure, it would be tone deaf, but at least our night would be salvageable.

He doesn’t seem to get it though. “Or, you can spend the day with me and I can fuck you against the wall again.”

I’m too pissed to even blush. I scoff at him. “I don’t believe this,” I mutter. “I don’t fucking believe it.” I get up in one swift movement, taking the sheet with me. It leaves him exposed, but at least I can muster up some dignity by covering myself up.

He barks a short laugh in disbelief. “What?”

I turn my back on him, shakily reaching for my discarded dress. “I can’t believe that you think my job isn’t important. That I’m like some sort of servant.”

“Well, you kind of are, aren’t you?”

He sounds confused by my reaction. Which just pisses me off even more. “So you think I’m like a servant?” I thunder, finally able to pull up my dress. I don’t even bother zipping it up all the way as I slide my feet into my stilettos. “You know what, Henry? Fuck you.”

“Wait, Cat!” he calls after me as I storm out. I wouldn’t put it past him to run out after me, naked, but I hurry down the hallway to the elevator. I pass by a maid, who gives me a bewildered look as I wait for the car to come to this floor. What floor are we on of this damn palace, anyways?

I give the maid an awkward smile, feeling guilty that I had a such a strong reaction to being compared to her. She works hard, makes a living for herself, and is probably proud of the work she does. Still though, I can’t fight the sting that has wounded me deeply. Maybe it’s because all my friends from Stanford made fun of me for being a personal assistant.

I don’t talk to those friends anymore. Just like I won’t talk to Prince Henry Spencer di’Vale anymore.

I’m at a week-long race event, but I can avoid him. Make it seem like last night never happened. I’m pretty good at pretending, and no one has to know. I’m sure they’ll suspect, but I can put walls around my heart like no other.

The elevator dings as the doors mercifully slide open. I step in as I hear Henry yelling after me. “Cat!”

I turn around and flip him the bird, and the move shocks him to stillness. The doors whisk close.

And I leave Henry’s life. For good.

So much for seeing Australia.