Read Online The Princess & the Pea by Victoria Alexander - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Victoria Alexander
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you close and claim he was merely providing needed warmth in the chilling breeze."
"I don't feel any breeze," she said faintly.
"Ah, that's part of his diabolical plan. Next he would no doubt fill your head with pretty phrases." He gazed at her with an intensity that sparked a shiver in her blood. "He would tell you your hair catches the starlight and puts even the splendor of the moon to shame. He would compare your face to the finest marble sculpture in the Louvre, eclipsing the beauty of the works of Michelangelo himself. And your eyes ..."
"My eyes," she sighed.
His voice was as deep with meaning as his words. "He would say your eyes are like molten pools of midnight. So deep and dark and uniting that a man could forfeit his very soul and be grateful for the loss."
"He would say that?" Caught in the spell of his words, his touch, his gaze, her voice was little more than a gasp.
Jared nodded gravely. "He would. And then he would bend his lips to yours." His lips brushed against hers and her breath stopped. "Lightly at first." His lips, firm and warm with promise, met hers again, and she fought to keep from sagging against him. "And then, perhaps, he would kiss you fully and thoroughly until you knew you'd been well and truly kissed."
"The fiend," she breathed.
"Indeed," he said softly, and his lips claimed hers.
The touch of his mouth was scarcely more than gossamer on the night air, and she marveled at the excitement it triggered within her. The pressure of his lips increased and she swayed toward him, an unknown need urging her closer. Her lips opened beneath his, and their breath met and merged. It was as if the world ground to a stop. As if nothing else mattered now and always. As if her very core dissolved to a puddle of aching heat and forbidden desire.
It was not as if she had never kissed a man before. But if this was what love did to a simple kiss ... She snaked her arms around his neck, tunneled her fingers through the hair that curled over his collar and pulled him tighter.
She tasted vaguely of honey and spice and the sweetness of life itself. His blood pounded in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to mark her as his forever. She was light and laughter and unimagined fire, and he throbbed with unquenched need.
He had, of course, kissed other women before her. Dozens. Even hundreds. A few quite innocent, but most significantly more experienced than she. But never had he known the sheer exhilaration and insistent demand for something far beyond a taste, a tantalizing glimpse, a mere suggestion of a passion he had not dared to dream could exist. What on earth had she done to him?
He pulled away, and even a vague disappointment failed to fully penetrate the haze of mysterious emotions that shrouded her.
Jared stared down at her, a somewhat bemused smile on his lips. "I think perhaps we have seen enough of Paris for one night." He released her, turned and hailed a passing cab.
"It was a delightful evening, Jared," she said softly. "Beautiful. Almost... like magic."
He handed her into the cab. "You were right, I think. I believe in magic far more than I ever suspected." He hesitated, an odd, haunted look flashing across his eyes, his tone abruptly serious. "May I see you again tomorrow?"
She tilted her head and smiled. "I have not yet seen the city from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps we could meet there? Late morning?"
He nodded sharply, closed the cab door and signaled to the driver.
Cece leaned back against the worn leather seat and savored a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would tell her of his feelings for her. She hadn't the least doubt his emotions were as deep and intense as her own. One could not possibly share a kiss like that without feeling something far greater than mere lust.
He was unlike anyone she'd ever met. She didn't doubt he would one day achieve his dream. She could see his commitment in the deep blue of his eyes, touch his strength of purpose in the
"I don't feel any breeze," she said faintly.
"Ah, that's part of his diabolical plan. Next he would no doubt fill your head with pretty phrases." He gazed at her with an intensity that sparked a shiver in her blood. "He would tell you your hair catches the starlight and puts even the splendor of the moon to shame. He would compare your face to the finest marble sculpture in the Louvre, eclipsing the beauty of the works of Michelangelo himself. And your eyes ..."
"My eyes," she sighed.
His voice was as deep with meaning as his words. "He would say your eyes are like molten pools of midnight. So deep and dark and uniting that a man could forfeit his very soul and be grateful for the loss."
"He would say that?" Caught in the spell of his words, his touch, his gaze, her voice was little more than a gasp.
Jared nodded gravely. "He would. And then he would bend his lips to yours." His lips brushed against hers and her breath stopped. "Lightly at first." His lips, firm and warm with promise, met hers again, and she fought to keep from sagging against him. "And then, perhaps, he would kiss you fully and thoroughly until you knew you'd been well and truly kissed."
"The fiend," she breathed.
"Indeed," he said softly, and his lips claimed hers.
The touch of his mouth was scarcely more than gossamer on the night air, and she marveled at the excitement it triggered within her. The pressure of his lips increased and she swayed toward him, an unknown need urging her closer. Her lips opened beneath his, and their breath met and merged. It was as if the world ground to a stop. As if nothing else mattered now and always. As if her very core dissolved to a puddle of aching heat and forbidden desire.
It was not as if she had never kissed a man before. But if this was what love did to a simple kiss ... She snaked her arms around his neck, tunneled her fingers through the hair that curled over his collar and pulled him tighter.
She tasted vaguely of honey and spice and the sweetness of life itself. His blood pounded in his ears and he wanted nothing more than to mark her as his forever. She was light and laughter and unimagined fire, and he throbbed with unquenched need.
He had, of course, kissed other women before her. Dozens. Even hundreds. A few quite innocent, but most significantly more experienced than she. But never had he known the sheer exhilaration and insistent demand for something far beyond a taste, a tantalizing glimpse, a mere suggestion of a passion he had not dared to dream could exist. What on earth had she done to him?
He pulled away, and even a vague disappointment failed to fully penetrate the haze of mysterious emotions that shrouded her.
Jared stared down at her, a somewhat bemused smile on his lips. "I think perhaps we have seen enough of Paris for one night." He released her, turned and hailed a passing cab.
"It was a delightful evening, Jared," she said softly. "Beautiful. Almost... like magic."
He handed her into the cab. "You were right, I think. I believe in magic far more than I ever suspected." He hesitated, an odd, haunted look flashing across his eyes, his tone abruptly serious. "May I see you again tomorrow?"
She tilted her head and smiled. "I have not yet seen the city from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps we could meet there? Late morning?"
He nodded sharply, closed the cab door and signaled to the driver.
Cece leaned back against the worn leather seat and savored a sense of anticipation. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would tell her of his feelings for her. She hadn't the least doubt his emotions were as deep and intense as her own. One could not possibly share a kiss like that without feeling something far greater than mere lust.
He was unlike anyone she'd ever met. She didn't doubt he would one day achieve his dream. She could see his commitment in the deep blue of his eyes, touch his strength of purpose in the
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