The Prince I Love to Hate: A Steamy Romantic Comedy (The Heir Affair Book 1) by Iris Morland (learn to read books TXT) 📗

I sat on the edge of my bed, while Olivier sat in a chair across from me. Although only a few feet separated us, it felt like an ocean. I rubbed my arms, a chill prickling my skin.

“Fine. That makes sense. We can stay at my grandda’s estate.”

Olivier began to drum his fingers on the table, and I waited for him to say something else.

“Is that it?” I said finally. “You didn’t need to come into my room to ask me this. Should’ve saved a trip and just texted.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you annoyed with me? Because you’ve been prickly all evening.”

“Annoyed? No. I told you: I’m just tired.” I yawned widely. “See? Tired. I want to get to bed, actually. If you’re going to take care of the tickets like usual—”

Olivier got up and, to my shock, pulled me to my feet. “Why are you lying to me?”

I kept just shaking my head. “I’m not lying. Why are you being so weird right now? It’s creeping me out.” I plucked his fingers from my arms like they were leeches. “And please unhand me, good sir.”

Olivier let me go, but he kept staring down at me. A flush had crept up his cheeks. He looked flustered. It was so weird that I wondered if I’d already fallen asleep and was having a fever dream.

“Was it because I said that nothing could happen between us? Is that why you’re cold all of a sudden?” he said.

I inhaled sharply. “We both agreed nothing could happen. So I’m not going to be petty enough to take that out on you. Christ, give me a break, Olivier.”

“I don’t believe you.”

I gaped at him. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. In the back of my mind, I heard Rachel and Maddie: Just tell him. No Big Misunderstanding, Niamh. Put on your big girl panties.

I took in a shuddering breath. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m starting to have feelings for you, and it scares the living shit out of me, and it’s crazy, too, because we’ve only kissed, so what kind of Hallmark Channel original movie is this bullshit?” With every word, my voice rose. “I barely know you. We’re strangers. I think I might just have Stockholm Syndrome—”

Olivier dug his fingers into my hair, and tipping my head back, he kissed me. Hard. I stiffened at first, but soon, I was like melted chocolate in his arms. Liquified, sticky, and all over him.

I gripped his shoulders, my nails digging into them, as his hands roved down my back. He grabbed my ass and squeezed, while his other hand was busy cupping my cheek. Our tongues tangled as we deepened the kiss. I wiggled against him, and soon I felt his dick harden and press against my pelvis. I wanted to let out a triumphant laugh.

Olivier quickly divested me of my hoodie, and then he was cupping my breasts, watching my expression as he thumbed one nipple, then the other.

“Does this seem like a Hallmark movie to you?” he said gruffly.

I looked down. “Pretty sure boob grabs aren’t allowed in those.” I sounded breathless and extremely horny.

Olivier pushed one strap of my tank down, then the other, and it was only my arms at my side keeping my breasts covered. I felt a moment of self-consciousness, what with the light still on and my tits being rather fun-sized. But I forced the fear aside. Drawing up my arms, I let my tank slither down to my ankles.

Olivier drank me in. His gray eyes were so dark, they were stormy. His circled his fingers around one breast while cupping the other. “I’ve wanted to touch these since I first saw you,” he admitted. “And when you fell asleep against me on the train, I stared down at them the entire time.”

“What a pervert you are.” My words turned into a little squeak when he pinched a nipple.

“I kept wondering what your nipples looked like. Were they pointy or puffy? Were they pink or dark red?”

I looked down. “I think they’re a mauve color?”

“They look like they should be in my mouth.”

Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to say no to that. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he leaned me back before his sucked one nipple into his mouth. It was like my entire body was suddenly aflame. He licked and rolled the nipple with his tongue, and then before I knew it, I was collapsing onto the bed with Olivier on top of me.

He feasted on my breasts until they were tender and red. I could only dig my fingers into his golden hair and hope that I didn’t burst into tears from the pleasure. It didn’t help that his hands were busy pushing my pants down. Soon, he found the elastic of my underwear and then the soft skin of my pelvis.

“Olivier,” I breathed. “What are you—?”

He shushed me. “Tonight is for you.”

His fingers found my pussy, and I wasn’t even embarrassed at how wet I was already. He delved between the folds, and I could hear how slick I was just from that movement.

Olivier leaned down and whispered French words into my ear. It was so sexy that I could’ve come right then and there.

“That’s cheating. I don’t know what you’re saying,” I complained.

He just grinned. “That’s the point, ma chérie.”

He then began speaking in Italian, which was just beyond annoying. But my annoyance faded quickly, because his fingers were clearly magic, and he knew exactly how to use them. Pushing my panties down along with my pajama pants, I was soon completely naked except for my super sexy cat socks.

He glanced at my socks, which had Grumpy Cat’s grumpy visage on them. “Is that a cat?” he said.

“Come on, it’s Grumpy Cat. Do you even internet? May she rest in peace.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. Then my stupid socks were forgotten the moment he pushed my legs open and