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“But if you need to talk.” He opened the hotel door for her and led her to the elevator with a hand on her lower back. His touch burned through the fabric of her dress. “We can talk, if you want.”
“What I want is for you to stay with me,” she said, glancing up at him and pushing the up button. He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight. “I know you say you can’t, but I feel like my whole life is out of control right now. I control nothing. No one. Not even myself. But I know what I want right here. Right now. I want you. I want you so badly, and I’m begging you—yes, begging you—to take me. Please.”
The elevator door dinged, and he pushed her inside until her back hit the steel wall next to the control board. Jamming his finger into her floor number, he tilted her head back and stared down into her eyes.
“You’re trying to fucking kill me woman, aren’t you? Because, damn it, I want you, too.” He gripped her thigh, lifting it so he could insinuate himself between her legs. Rolling his hips, he nibbled on her ear. She could feel his erection pressing against her. So close, yet not close enough. “I want you so fucking badly it hurts, Belle.”
She dropped the file, letting it hit the floor. Closing her arms around the back of his neck, she moaned and arched her neck to give him better access. “Then take me.”
“You see…I can’t. That’s why it hurts so damn much,” he muttered, dropping his face into the crook of her neck. “I want you, but you’re not mine. And you never can be, because you’re his. He doesn’t even know you, but you’re going to be his.”
She gripped his suit jacket, her heart wrenching painfully. “Gordon…”
“I can’t,” Gordon said, disengaging himself from her and backing across the elevator as far as he could go. “I just can’t.”
She swallowed past the tears threatening to choke her, not sure what to say. What to do. She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to tell Gordon she wouldn’t marry George. Wanted to tell him she’d be his, if only he’d kiss her again. Wanted to promise him everything, and then promise him some more.
But to do that, she had to turn her back on her entire family.
Her entire country.
“Please,” she said one last time. “Please.”
He locked gazes with her, the tension between the two of them enough to bring down the elevator. “I don’t bond and share deep dark secrets with other people, but I will tell you this one thing about me. My dad cheated on my mom repeatedly. It broke her. I swore I’d never touch a woman who belonged to another man. I swore it to myself. To her. To the world.” He swallowed hard. “I can’t break my vow. Not even for you. If I was the type to apologize, I would. But I’m not, and I’m not taking you.”
Her heart twisted. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“That’s because no one does. It’s not something I tell people.” He rubbed his jaw. “But if I was going to break that rule for anyone, it would be you.”
She forced a smile. “I’m honored.”
“Belle…” The elevator doors opened, and he took a step toward her. The light in his eyes was predatory. “I think—”
“Princess Isabelle?” George said, looking between her and Gordon. His eyes were narrow, and his fists tight. It was crystal clear he knew something was going on between the two of them, even if he didn’t know exactly how far it’d gone. “Everything top notch in here?”
Isabelle stared at him, not sure what to say. “Y-Yes. Of course. But…what are you doing here? We didn’t have an appointment, did we?”
“I was in the vicinity, and I just wanted to see you again. Maybe go out for a light supper?” George smiled. “Do I need an appointment for that?”
“Of course not.” Isabelle pushed off the wall, smoothed her hair, and bent to collect the papers she’d dropped. Their pre-nup, of all things. “Give me a second. I dropped my papers while talking to Mr. Waybrook.”
Gordon bent down and helped her collect the rest, his movements jerky and hard. “Here. I’ll get them for you, my lady.”
“I’ve got it,” she said, her throat growing incredibly hard to swallow past. “I’m fine.”
“You can leave us,” George said, his tone haughty. He gestured to a group of three men who stood to the side, dressed in dark suits. “Your services aren’t required when I’m with her. As you can see, I have my own men.”
“I work for her, so unless she tells me to go? I stay.” Gordon asked from his position on the floor. He’d froze with the last paper in his hand. “Princess? Would you like me to go?”
“I…” She glanced at George, who studied her far too closely. Her whole country’s safety rode on this moment. Her answer. “Yes. You may go.”
“Okay.” Gordon handed her the last paper, his fingers brushing hers, then stood. Something flashed behind his eyes. Something that made Isabelle want to take back her answer, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. “Good evening, Princess Isabelle.”
She didn’t reply. She wasn’t capable of it at the moment.
“Thank you,” George said, his attention locked on Gordon. “She’ll be safe with me; I assure you.”
“I know,” Gordon said, backing into the elevator. “I’m not worried about you at all.” He glanced at Isabelle one last time. “I’ll be back before your scheduled dinner tonight, my lady.”