Page 132 of Bossy Wicked Prince

The kiss is so perfect it makes my toes curl and my knees buckle. Nate has to hold me up as I make a small sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a moan against his lips.

“I love you,” I mutter as he breaks the kiss before I realize what I’m saying. I gasp, my hand jumping up to cover my mouth. “Oh god, that’s not how I meant to say it—not the first time?—”

He pulls my hand down from my face, his gray eyes more serious than I’ve ever seen them as they search mine. “Say it again.”

I grin up at him.

“Please”—he squeezes my hand—“say it again.”

“I love you, Nathaniel Walsh.”

He smiles then—the biggest, brightest smile I’ve ever seen on him. It transforms his face, making him look younger somehow, innocent and pure.

Prince Frowning’s full, real, unabashed smile is slightly crooked and entirely perfect.

“I love you, too, Caitlin Daniels.” He kisses me softly on the lips. “I love you.”

He kisses down my neck, spinning me so my back is against his chest. His hands move down my body, skimming over my sides and cradling my hips as he kisses down my neck.

“I love you. I love you. I love you,” he murmurs between kisses against my skin.

“Do you have any idea how easy it was to love you?”

His rumbling voice vibrates against my back.

I lean my head against him, relishing the feel of his wet skin against mine and when I shift, and my backside slides against his cock, he shivers against me, a small groan muffled in my wet skin.

“Kitten…”

The nickname is a plea on his lips.

I blink water from my eyes to meet his as I look up.

There’s a hunger there that’s so clear it makes me squirm in his arms. Makes my thighs press together against a sudden ache between them. I nod.

“Yes.”

He lets out a guttural, grateful sound, as if I’ve just released him from a lifelong sentence of imprisonment. He nuzzles my neck, hands moving down my stomach, to the juncture between my legs.

My heart skips a beat and I know he must be able to hear it for how loud it’s pounding in the enclosed space.

He moans my name as he traces my seam with a thick finger and gasps when he finds the puddle of arousal already waiting for him.

“Fuuuuckk,” he says in a husky moan as he begins to circle my clit. “Keep still for me Kitten, or I might lose control.”

When I obey, he wraps one arm around my waist and holds me tight. “I don’t want you slipping once I’ve got your legs shaking.”

My pulse quickens.

Warm water falls down our bodies, soothing me even as Nate’s fingers bring me higher and higher. All the sensation is almost too much, but Nate never touches me too hard or too fast. It’s like my body’s an instrument that he’s a prodigy in playing.

Soon, I’m gasping and panting, so close to coming that I can practically taste it.

“Do you need to come, Kitten?” he croons.

“Yes,” I sob.

Nate drags his teeth against my earlobe and I cry out as the crescendo starts. “There it is,” he croons, holding me tighter as shatter. “I’ve got you. Come for me, Kitten.”