Page 29 of The Prince Who Loved Me

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Like books have those subtle nuances that I never saw until a teacher pointed it out. Like the color green represents money. Or that German film we saw that I thought was a love story but was really about the rise and fall of the deutschmark after World War One.”

“Brandi.” Sebastien took her hand, her fingers cold in his own. “Did you enjoy the books?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“Even knowing the between the lines subtext?”

“Right.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” He raised his hands so their palms were touching wrist to fingertip. “Not everyone is going to love what these create. Not everyone will understand the feelings and emotions and the passion that went into a painting. And that’s okay.”

She pulled her hands away, leaving his strangely empty.She held his gaze, her eyes intent. “How can you be friends with me if I don’t even understand your passion?”

“When there’s a lead-off man at first, does the safety need to get closer to the pitcher’s mound?”

“The short stop, you mean? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“How many peaches does it take to create a bottle of whiskey?”

“It depends on what else is in it. What’s your point?”

“All I know about softball is that you have twelve players on the field and someone hits a ball. Doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of being your friend.”

“Nine.”

“See?” He brushed some hair away from her face, taking the opportunity to relish the silken texture.

“I guess.” She sighed.

“I draw you sometimes.” The admission tore from his chest and past his lips.

“Yeah?” She grinned at him. “Cuz I’m so pretty?”

“You have a liveliness about you that makes you an engaging subject.” He traced a finger down her cheek and her breath caught. His hand cupped her jaw. “Happy or sad or pensive or angry. It’s all there.”

“Sebastien.” Her voice was like smoke, thick and full. She put her hand on his, still on her jaw and pressed it into her, closing her eyes.

He barely inhaled. Don’t mess up. Wait to see what she’s going to do.

“This feels nice,” she murmured.

“I think so, too.” He couldn’t stop the change in his voice, bringing the accent that showed up when his emotions ran rampant. He cleared his throat in an effort to control it. “You feel nice.”

“Mmmm.” Her sigh fanned his cheek.

He kissed her forehead, as he had done so often in the past. And her nose. And she angled her face so her lips were where he had just touched her.

She arched into him, electrifying his body.

Their mouths met in a sensual caress, searching and seeking. Her lips were soft against his own, and he cupped her jaw to increase the pressure, smoothing his thumbs over her skin.

Wow. He was kissing Brandi. Actually kissing her, like what had played in his dreams since the day they met. He could feel her in every nerve ending while his heart pounded inside his chest, hard against his rib cage as if it expected to break free.

She lightly raked her nails around the nape of his neck and through his hair, sending a pulsing heat to his cock. He tried to ignore the pleasure and focus on her. Her oaky, sugary scent. The feeling of her lips under his. Her unique taste.

She pulled back and he broke contact, still feeling the warmth of her on his fingers. She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. With excitement? Shock? Disdain?