Free Penthouse Prince by Virginia Nelson Page A

half lidded eyes. “We’ll be home soon. Stolen moments, outside reality. We’re still fine.”
    She couldn’t argue, not when his hands streaked up her thighs to capture her waist, skin against skin. “Okay, a few minutes more can’t—”
    His lips found her again, tugged her into his embrace until she felt the hard ridge of him through his clothes. The sensation set off a firestorm inside her, and she gasped, but he swallowed the sound and mated their tongues.
    She needed…something. Just a little more.
    Unfamiliar tension coiled inside her, begged to be released from its tether. Unable to tell him, not having any words other than just telling him she’d never done anything like it before, she tried to think past the almost drugging passion he’d awakened.
    It wasn’t like she could just say she was a virgin—he’d laugh, drunk or not. Eyes closed, as if she could find control by not seeing him while his hands teased at her suddenly aching mound, she whispered, “I can’t. I don’t know how.”
    “You don’t—” His hands stilled for a moment, then his fingers dug into her side. “Shit. Seriously?”
    She didn’t have an answer. The need sizzled away all coherent thought and replaced it with one drive. “Please,” she managed, not altogether sure what she’d asked of him.
    His thumb stroked her. “Trust me, just for a moment more, Jeanie.”
    She nodded, then sought his mouth and found it as he circled his thumb against her and made the coil of desire wind tighter rather than finding release. Then he moved faster, and his hips bumped into her as his finger thrummed at the wet, hot point of her need.
    She arched her head away from him, then gasped as his mouth closed over her breast and drew it deep while he slipped a finger inside her. The touch seemed to fill a void, a hungry void, and she moved faster, driving her hips into his stroking hand. “That’s it, baby. Let it happen.”
    A second finger joined the first, his thumb not slowing in its rhythm, and she cried out, the friction snapping her control like a rubber band stretched too far. Her thighs clenched, ripples of the wonderful feeling seeming to crest from the roots of her hair to the soles of her feet.
    “Camden,” she whispered.
    He petted her through it, and soothing sounds and soft kisses brought her back from the edgy precipice. A warm glow seemed to bathe her whole body in satisfaction.
    His arms wove around her and held her close to him while she tried to remember how to breathe.
    “The car isn’t moving,” she finally whispered into his neck.
    “Nope, it’s not.” Stroking her back, he shifted himself and sprawled a bit.
    The hard ridge of him still pressed into her, and she fought a wave of embarrassment. “So, you’re not going to remember this, right? Because you’re drunk.”
    His snort echoed in the silence of the car. “Yeah, I wouldn’t bet on that.”
    Not sure if she should pull away or what the proper etiquette was in this sort of situation, she chewed her lip. “Did you find out whatever it was you were trying to figure out?”
    His laughter jiggled her on his chest, and she sat back, surprised when the motion caused a wave of new desire to waken. Trying to put everything back in her gown, he surprised her by brushing her hands away to help. “I found out more than I planned.” He didn’t look drunk, but she couldn’t read his expression.
    “This was pretend, you said so. I vote we just put it behind us.”
    He gently stroked her collarbone before he slid her off his lap and adjusted her skirt. “If that’s what you have to do, Jeanie, feel free.”
    “But what about—?”
    His fingertip touched her lip, and she met his gaze, still unreadable in the soft lighting of the limo. “Nothing in the world will make me give up this memory. Life is full of too much I don’t care for, things I have to do whether I want to or not. The sight of you coming apart in my lap, your face as you lost all control