The prince waltzed her once around the room, his steps smooth and gliding and hers effortlessly following. Ella, caught in his gaze and the heat that was between them, only realized as their steps slowed that he had steered them towards the very balcony she had tried to suggest to her last admirer.
Steeling herself, her heart hammering, Ella boldly pressed herself against the Prince’s broad chest, the heat in her breasts making her tremble as the braid trim of his jacket rubbed against her aching nipples. “I’m in need of a protector,” she said, her voice shaking. This was the moment of truth. “I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”
Prince Alphonse laughed and for one horrifying, mortified moment Ella, too used to the raucous cackles of her stepsisters, feared he was laughing at her. His smile was genuine, though, the one that lit up his eyes and turned his face from the marble beauty of a masterpiece to something warmer and altogether more roguish. His gaze raked over her, pausing on her offered breasts and the lips Ella nervously licked. “Silly girl,” he teased gently. “Why do you think I brought you out here?”
He crushed her to him then, with all the raw masculine strength he hadn’t displayed on the dance floor, catching her lips in a searing kiss. “A child – my child – will be conceived tonight,” he told her, his voice a low growl. “Do you want to be the one to bear it?”