Page 83 of Bitter Prince

I slid my fingers into his hair. “What about a concussion?”

He tilted my head back so he could meet my eyes. “Cinnamon girl, not even a concussion will stop me from the plans I have for you for the rest of the day. Collisions are obviously not ideal, but they’re common. Our cars are equipped to handle these types of situations. I should have explained that to you better before taking off earlier.”

He kissed me deeply, stealing my breath away. I was burning up with love and worry. I pulled back breathlessly. “But—”

He silenced me again, trailing his mouth over my jaw, down my neck. “No buts. If you want to ensure I’m good, just keep kissing me.”

Despite almost having a heart attack, I fought back a smile. “That’s going to be a hardship.”

He nipped my bottom lip. “Fine, then I’ll be kissing you.”

I laughed, but then my expression turned serious. “That was…” My grip in his hair increased and my chest tightened in pain. He rested his forehead on mine. “Don’t ever do that again. My heart can’t handle it.” His gaze flickered with conflict, like he couldn’t—or wouldn’t?—make that promise. But the fire and the turmoil in his eyes didn’t stop me from voicing my own feelings. “You filled a void in my soul I never knew to be empty. I’ve always believed in love, but I know now that I was saving it all for you. Don’t you dare die on me.”

His eyes melted into liquid darkness with stars that shined just for me, and my heart floated in my chest.

“You, my cinnamon girl…” He trailed off, voice soft. “You might be my salvation.”

I opened my mouth again, but he kissed me—to shut me up, if I were to hazard a guess. I sighed all my worries into his mouth, feeling happier than ever.

Because I knew he was mine and I was his.

* * *

We made it up the stairs into the private room. I plopped myself on the couch and slipped my shoes off.

His hair glinted blue in the sunlight coming through the windows, mussed and sticking up in all directions from how much he’d been running his hands through it.

“You okay?” I asked again. “Are you sure we don’t need a doctor to check you out?”

He shook his head. “They came out onto the track. I’m all clear.”

He lowered himself on the couch next to me, his fingers fumbling to unzip his race suit while toeing off his shoes. The room filled with his deep breaths and my thundering heart. “Are you naked under that suit?”

I realized too late my voice sounded hopeful, needy.

He shot me a look filled with sinful promises that had my insides quivering with anticipation.

“Are you trying to make me blush?” he teased, bumping his shoulder into mine.

I rolled my eyes. “Something tells me it would be hard to make you blush.” He chuckled, but didn’t confirm or deny it. “So how did you get into car racing?”

He shrugged. “My father.”

A shiver rolled down my spine. The last time I saw his father was twelve years ago, and I didn’t like him. He seemed like a cruel and hard man.

“You… you get along with your father?”

He shook his head. “No. Neither Dante nor I ever have.” Silence followed, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I couldn’t quite say whether I got along with my papà. We spent so little time with him that I truthfully didn’t knowhowwe would. “Do you get along with your sister? Grandma?”

My gaze met his and I answered truthfully. “Phoenix and I are close. Grandma is great, sometimes a bit weird,” I admitted. “I told you Papà hasn’t been around a great deal. Ever since my mamma—” My voice cracked and I swallowed, trying to clear my throat. I inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Anyhow, I get along with my grandma. She can drive you nuts, but she means well.” He nodded as if he understood.

When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Do you have grandparents?”

“The only one I ever met was the grandfather on my mother’s side who lived in Japan,” he said as he leaned back, and I shifted so I could watch him. A glimpse of his smooth, tan skin played peek-a-boo, and I stared at it openly. I’d never been shy exactly, but I didn’t think I was a rebel. Maybe a bit on the reserved side.

But with Amon, all my reservations melted. I wanted to explore every inch of him, touch him and kiss him. And God help me, I wanted him to touch me.

“Are you close with him?” I rasped, my gaze lingering on his chest.