Page 7 of His Princess (A Man Who Knows What He Wants)

I can let myself go with her, something deep inside of me roars, more than I’ve ever been able to do before. I know it’s dangerous thinking and I need to pump the brakes, fast, but I can’t seem to help myself as I smirk over at her.

“I’ve been called many things in my life, Princess Ruby, but noble isn’t one of them.”

“You know what I mean.” Her cheeks flush gorgeously. “I’m not used to people doing things the right way.”

“Hey.” My smirk widens. “You didn’t correct me that time.”

“Oh.” She giggles, and fuck I love that sound. “I guess that’s right. I was distracted.”

“Either that or you like being called princess… princess.”

“I’ll admit I like it coming from you…”

She trails off and her mouth falls open, as though she’s stunned at what she’s just said. Hot flames burn through me at her admission, my seed roaring at me from deep inside that she feels the same.

She wants to collapse against me as badly as I need to maul her.

“Because you’re not a criminal,” she says quickly, making me wonder if I imagined the lust-filled tremors in her voice.

“I’m definitely not,” I agree, my voice dull as I contemplate what just passed between us.

Did I imagine the look that came into her eyes, just for a moment?

It was filled with throbbing want and need, with the desire to be claimed by me.

I wonder if there’s a pulsing deep inside of her too, the same way my body thrums hotly every damn moment I’m close to her.

I try to remind myself of who she is.

This could be a trick.

Aaron could have sent her here to win my confidence and get some dirt on me.

There’s no dirt he could use, but he doesn’t know that. The fact that his niece is in my apartment is bad enough. That means he could know my address.

“Tell me how you got here,” I say. “And tell me how you know where I live.”

She flinches at my sudden change in tone. The absurd desire to apologize to her rises up inside of me, but I push it down quickly.

I need to remember who I am, what I am, a cop above all else.

She nods and explains how she triggered the safe alarm, ran through the forest, hopped on a bus, and rode into the city. I stare at her in fascination, awed by her bravery, her confidence, the way she took her destiny into her own hands instead of waiting for someone else to fix it.

If she’s a princess, she’s a damn capable one.

“You expect me to believe your uncle sent all his guards to check on the safe?” I say, using my detective’s tone.

It’s all for show, forced bluster, because the truth is I believe her.

I believe her in a way no detective ever should, just because.

I can’t explain my absolute trust in her words, except that it comes from someplace deep inside of me, surging up in heated moments I have to make a conscious effort to fight, to beat down so I don’t lose myself in the fury of my need.

“I know it’s crazy.” She shakes her head slowly. “I wasn’t even sure it would work. It happened once before…”

“That earthquake?”

“Yeah, exactly. And he sent them all running. It’s a really stupid thing to do, but that’s the thing about Uncle Aaron. He’s stupid, stupid and paranoid, and mean. He’s only able to function because he made that sick deal with the Cartel because he killed my dad…”

She trails off, choking back a sob.

My fingers twitch with the need to reach across the length of the table and offer her comfort, but my cop’s instincts scream at me to settle down, to play this slow.

My instincts lose.

My primal need wins.

I reach over and place my hand on her shoulder, rubbing it softly. She shivers at my touch, waves of something moving through her. I can’t help but think it’s waves of need moving through her, mirroring the signals my body is sending out.

“I’m okay,” she whispers, fighting off her sadness. “It’s just… I never talk about this. Who would I talk to?”

“The Cartel killed my parents,” I tell her, my voice gruff and fierce.

Shit.

I didn’t plan on sharing that.

This could be a damn trick, for fuck’s sake.

I withdraw my hand, terrified by how easily I find talking to this woman, even if there’s another force inside of me roaring that of course I find it easy.

She’s my goddamn woman.

“So Aaron sent the men running, and you escaped.”

“Yes.” She nods. “I should’ve done it sooner, but when he said no to me submitting my book, that was it.”

“Your writing is important to you,” I murmur, admiring her passion despite myself.

“Yes,” she says fiercely.

“Wait.” I glance at her bag, resting on the floor. “That means you brought your laptop?”

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