Penthouse Prince Read Online Free Page A

recognized this would be different from his first fake smooch. He’d rushed before. Now, he took his time.
    His lips on hers, smooth and cool, shouldn’t have been so distracting, but she found herself relaxing into his light touch as he teased the corner of her mouth.
    Acting. I’m just acting.
    Yeah, right.
    Keep telling yourself that, girl.
    The feel of his shirt, soft under her fingertips, held the warmth of his skin beneath. A brief temptation to undo those buttons, rumple his rich boy façade, and slide her hand across his flesh tempted her while his mouth eased her lips open so his tongue could dance against her own.
    Kissing a stranger shouldn’t be this fun.
    And in the kiss, it seemed the playboy faded away. Instead he was again the tired-eyed man who’d first approached her in the penthouse. The way he kissed her, it was almost as though he was asking her permission with his lips.
    Was this another illusion?
    But then his hand shook, just a little, when he changed the angle of her head. A catch of his breath, like he wanted her, and her heart raced in answer. She moved into his embrace, not sure if she was fighting for dominance or control…
    The feel of the wall against her back awakened her from his touch, and she braced her hand against him. He stopped kissing her immediately, and she gestured at the door, unable to form words just yet.
    He glanced back before shooting her a questioning look.
    “The door. It swung closed. They can’t see us. Wasted photo op.” Proud her voice didn’t quaver, she straightened her shirt.
    “Yeah, well, me kissing you into the dressing room will make it look like I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
    Is he breathless? Or am I projecting?
    Since his fingers toyed with the ends of her shirt, as if he was about to tug it up and claim her flesh, she quirked a brow at him. “Apparently, you can’t. Wanna back down, lover boy?”
    He stepped away from her quickly, taking the warmth of his body with him. She fought down the urge to pull him back.
    “Sorry about that.” He smiled. “You know, fake kissing you isn’t entirely horrible.”
    She snorted and snagged her purse. “Look, Romeo, you’re really starting to turn my head with all these compliments. I’m shocked you’re single, considering.”
    She’d intended the last as a jest, but his expression closed down, shutting her out. “Yep, shocker. Do you need an hour or two before dinner? You’re going to have to tell me something about the kid, too, or I can’t help you hide it.”
    “You really have to lay off that. I’m not telling you about my child. And, yeah, I could use an hour before dinner. You know, do the hair and makeup thing. Put on the fancy clothes, sharpen my talons.”
    He ran a hand through his dark, curly hair, and she envied his hand in a sick and twisted way. “I will send someone over to do the hair and makeup thing, as you so elegantly put it.”
    “I can do my own hair and makeup.”
    He scanned her, head to toe. “I’m sure you can. Probably. Maybe. Not that there’s any evidence to support the supposition at this time, but who knows? You seem like a clever girl; you might pull it off. But if you’re pretending to be my fiancée, you wouldn’t have to, so I’ll send someone over.”
    She shrugged. His money to waste. More money than brains—a catch phrase barely remembered from her grandmother—came to mind.
    He pushed open the door to the dressing room—
    And flashes from a camera going off blinded them.
    He yanking the door closed and leaned on the wall. “Shit. Well, hmm.”
    “There really was a photographer.” She didn’t quite manage to hide the surprise in her tone.
    “Of course there was. I told you, you can trust me.” He pulled out a cell phone and made a call. He spoke fast, apparently his normal way, then hung up and dialed again. Within moments, the sounds of a scuffle filtered through the door, and he straightened away from the wall and held a hand out to