Christmas with the Prince: Christmas with the Prince. Michelle Celmer
make you feel that way?” she asked, flattening a hand to her chest. “Me?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’re royalty. Compared to you, I’m nobody.”
“Why would you think you’re nobody?”
“Because…I am. What have I ever done?”
“You’ve done a hell of a lot more than I ever have. And think of all that you still have the chance to do.”
She could hardly believe that Aaron, a prince, could possibly hold someone like her in such high esteem. What was he seeing that no one else did?
“I’m sure you’ve done things, too,” she said.
He shook his head. “All of my life I’ve had things handed to me. I’ve never had to work for anything. And look at the adversity you’ve overcome to get where you are.”
She shrugged. “I just did what I had to do.”
“And that’s my point exactly. Most people would have given up. Your determination, your ambition, is astounding. And the thing I like most is that you don’t put on airs. You don’t try to be something that you’re not.” He took a step closer and his expression was so earnest, so honest, her breath caught. “I’ve never met a woman so confident. So comfortable in her own skin.”
Confident? Was he serious? She was constantly second-guessing herself, questioning her own significance. Her worth.
“You’re intelligent and interesting and kind,” he said. “And fun. And I’m betting that you don’t have a clue how beautiful you are.”
Did the guy need glasses? She was so…plain. So unremarkable. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I don’t think you are. I know you are. And you wouldn’t believe how much I’ve wanted to…” He sighed and shook his head. “Never mind.”
She was dying to know what he was thinking, and at the same time scared to death of what it might be. But her insatiable curiosity got the best of her.
Before she could stop herself she asked, “You wanted to do what?”
For a long, excruciating moment he just looked at her and her heart hammered relentlessly in anticipation. Finally he grinned that sexy simmering smile and told her, “I wanted do this.” Then he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her.
This was not the wishy-washy version of a kiss that Liv had gotten from William the day she left. Not even close. This kiss had heart. And soul. It had soft lips and caressing hands and breathless whimpers—mostly from her.
It was the kind of kiss that a girl remembered her entire life, the one she looked back on as her first real kiss. And she was kissing him back just as enthusiastically. Her arms went around Aaron’s neck, fingers tunneled through his hair. She was practically attacking him, but he didn’t seem to mind. She felt as though she needed this, needed to feed off his energy, like a plant absorbing the sunlight.
She kept waiting for him to break the kiss, to laugh at her and say, Just kidding or I can’t believe you fell for that! As if it was some sort of joke. What other reason would he have for kissing someone like her? But he didn’t pull away. He pulled her closer. Her breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest, tingling almost painfully, and just like that, she was hotter and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
But what about William?
William who ?
Aaron’s hands were caressing her face, tangling through her hair, pulling the band free so it spilled out around her shoulders. He pulled her closer and she nearly gasped when she felt the length of his erection, long and stiff against her belly. Suddenly the reality of what she was doing, where this was leading and the eventual conclusion, penetrated the lusty haze that was clouding her otherwise-rational brain. In the back of her mind a guilty little voice asked, Is this how you treat the man who asked you to marry him?
She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to shut him out of her mind, pretend William didn’t exist. But he did exist, and he was back in the States patiently awaiting an answer from her. Trusting that she was giving his proposal serious thought.
She broke the kiss and burrowed her head against Aaron’s shoulder, feeling the deep rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the rapid beat of his heart. Her own breath was coming in shallow bursts and her heart rate had climbed to what must have been a dangerously high level. Had anyone under the age of seventy ever actually died of heart failure brought on by extreme sexual arousal?
“What’s wrong?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.
She struggled to catch her breath, to slow her pounding heart. “We’re moving too fast.”
He chuckled. “Um, technically, we haven’t actually done anything yet.”
“And we shouldn’t. We can’t.”
He was quiet for several seconds, then he asked, “Are you saying you don’t want to? Because, love, that kiss was hot as hell.”
He called her love. No one had ever used a term of endearment like that with her. Certainly not her foster parents. Not even William. It made her feel special. Which made what she had to do next that much harder.
“I want to,” she said. “A lot.”
He rubbed his hands softly up and down her back. “Are you…afraid?”
She shook her head against his shoulder. She was anything but frightened, although maybe she should have been, because nothing about this made any sense. It wasn’t logical, and her entire life revolved around logic and science.
Maybe that was what made it so appealing.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said.
“What is it?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked up at him. “I’m kind of…engaged.”
Chapter Seven
“You’re engaged?” Aaron backed away from Liv, wondering why this was the first time he’d heard this. Especially when he considered all of the blatant flirting that had been going both ways between them the past couple of days. Well, some of it went both ways, but in all fairness he was always the one to initiate it.
“Um…sort of,” she said, looking uneasy.
Sort of? “Wait, how can a person be sort of engaged? And if you are engaged, why aren’t you wearing a ring?”
“We kinda didn’t get to that part yet.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What part did you get to exactly?”
“He asked me, and I told him I would think about it.”
There was this feeling, low in his gut. A surge of sensation that he didn’t recognize. The he realized he was jealous. He envied a complete stranger. “Who is he?”
“His name is William. We work together.”
“Another scientist?”
She nodded. “He’s my mentor.”
“Are you in love with him?” he asked.
She hesitated a moment, then said, “He’s a good friend. I have an immense amount of respect for him.”
Was that relief he’d just felt? “That isn’t what I asked you.”
She chewed her lip, as though she was giving it deep consideration, then she said, “Love is highly overrated.”
Normally