She is the Princess, and he's her guard. A lust that's forbidden.
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Princess Celeste Lawerence is a snotty, rebellious, and vain temptress. At least, that's what the kingdom of Alvera says she is. Landing every one of her personal guards in exile or...
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Gray Anderson
The door pulled inward momentarily after my knocks, and I distinctly remember feeling a sharp inhale of cold air pinch in my lungs. But truthfully, it was hard to recognize any sensation in my body besides the overwhelming pull on my chest when I took in the sight of the princess.
She was a glowing beam of white, all wrapped up in the glimmering dress, but it was her face, her hair, and her skin that usually looked pale now popping with color against the gown, making her the focal point of all its beauty.
I had to keep reminding myself precisely who I was looking at to keep myself from exhaling that breath and saying 'wow.'
We stood there for a moment too long and stared at each other. I felt like my quickened heartbeat was visible underneath my uniform, and I had to clench my jaw and glare to keep myself from wandering too far.
"You're ready," I managed to say, my voice a little more raspy than I would've liked.
My eyes gave in. I tore them from her gaze and down her body, and the raw attraction I felt punched me low in the gut when she jutted out her hip slowly and rested a hand on it, drawing my attention there. She knew what she was doing.
Fuck.
That gown was made with her likeness in mind. There was no doubt. There was no way this perfect piece of cloth was created and not just for her.
She was spoiled with riches and beauty. Her hips and waist were outlined like beacons calling me. I wanted to follow every seam on this dress and memorize the pattern with her still in it. Touch and trace her body with my hands till she was gasping and begging for me to touch her.
"Now I know why you're Lieutenant General. Nothing gets past you, huh?" She smirked and narrowed her eyes into slits, her voice dripping in confident sass.
I felt heat shoot up through me and settle on my chest from the anger and arousal, a glare settling along my features as I leveled them back on her face.
Something about putting this woman in her place, making her utterly desperate for me, left my mouth dry and my heart hammering. It pulled at me, trying to push my feet to take a step closer and close the distance between us. That fantasy was roaring like a carnal urge, thinking of her mumbling my name, pretty face blushed and messy, and her bratty determined gaze turned a sloppy haze of her complete desire for me. I knew I could do it, too. This preppy royal would be left reeling after one night with me.
But I couldn't and wouldn't. Though she was beautiful, on the inside, she was rotten, and the only place even touching her would land me was, in the best-case scenario, exiled. She was trouble-wrapped up in pretty fabric, and she knew it too.
If the princess could hear my thoughts, hell, if the primal lust I was feeling inside of me showed even a little in my expression, it would give her exactly what she wanted; she would have me executed.
