Page 24 of Stolen Princess

“Oh.” She spins around and walks backward as she does a slow, whole-eye sort of blink at me with those silver-gray irises. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t cozy up to me, princess. If you want answers, turn your scrawny ass back around and keep walking. I don’t need nor want pity.”

Her jaw drops. “My ass isn’t scrawny.”

She’s right. It’s not. It’s a very fuckable, two-handful grab, I need to sink my teeth into this kind of ass. But it doesn’t matter.

I twirl my finger in the air, and somehow she does as I ask and turns back around. “Fine. Continue.”

“I lived in Ireland until I was seventeen. After that, I moved around.”

“So you speak…”

“English, Danish, German, French, and Italian.”

Because it seems as though she can’t help herself, she’s facing me again with an enthusiastic smile. “I speak English, German, French, and Italian.”

“Goodie-goodie-gumdrops for you.”

She glares. “You’re trying very hard to be a dick, aren’t you?”

“If you wanted to see how hard my dick can be, all you had to do was ask.”

Once again, that jaw drops, and now my hard dick is picturing itself inside that perfect O.

“You realize I could take your gun out and shoot you.”

“But you won’t, so let’s stop with all of this friendly, getting-to-know-you chitchat.”

I get her back, but she doesn’t stop.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting caught?”

I sigh. She’s not going to stop, is she? “Sure,” I say, kicking a rock and watching it skip down the road. “That’s part of the thrill.”

“Except you’ll go to prison.”

“Juries never indict blokes who look like me.”

She snorts a laugh. “You’re not that good-looking.”

I grin at the back of her head. “But you do think I’m good-looking. That’s all I need.”

“You realize you’re the only human other than my mother I’ve seen since I was six. Right now, even these trees are looking pretty good to me.”

I choke down my laugh. “Then go cozy up to one of them.”

“Are you good at it?” she continues, ignoring me. “You must be if you had a necklace like that and haven’t been caught.”

“I’m very good at it.” My eyebrows bounce suggestively when she falls in pace beside me, but because she’s as virginal as the driven snow, she doesn’t pick up on my innuendo. I’ve officially hit a new low.

“I don’t agree with what you do, but one day I hope to be that good at something I love.”

We fall silent—well, I’m silent, she’s singing again—and that’s how it goes for the better part of two hours until we reach the outskirts of the village.

Princess’s eyes widen as she takes in the buildings, shops, cafés, and people meandering about.

“It’s worth the risk to you,” she murmurs, her eyes round and unblinking. “That’s what you said, right?”