The Billionaire Prince’s Fake Girlfriend by Leslie North

11

Jane felt like she was in a fairy tale. The music, the dancing... even the handsome prince, sweeping her off her feet. She didn’t want it to ever end. She was sitting at a table, eating some delicious gourmet appetizers. She even enjoyed the company of the other island princes, Ben’s best friends. She had great company, in a perfect setting, with a charming, attentive, wonderful partner.

Too bad it was all a front.

The thought made her frown, snapping her out of her perfect little reverie. She looked at Ben, who had been pulled aside by the hotelier. The guy was obviously rich and suave. He shook hands with Ben, telling him something, and Ben looked back at her before nodding. The man brightened and hurried off.

Ben returned to her side. “Want another dance?”

She sighed. They really didn’t need to keep up the pretense; they’d gotten the lead they needed, and couldn’t investigate further until they were back in London. That, and she knew the more they were seen “dating” in public, the harder she’d have to work to convince people that their “relationship” had all been a cover for the story. Even then, it was going to be touchy. She sighed. She really, really shouldn’t.

“Just one dance,” she heard herself say, and inwardly winced.

It’s just one night, she told herself. She wouldn’t have this chance again. She didn’t see a lot of extravagant parties in her future, especially if she got the investigative journalist job.

She wouldn’t have another chance to be with Ben, either, she realized with a pang. That alone made her follow him back to the dance floor, her hand in his strong, comforting grasp.

He wrapped her in his arms, and she moved against him like they’d been doing it for years. He sighed, holding her tighter, and her heart just melted as she leaned against him.

“You all right?” he asked against her ear.

She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay steady. She snuggled a little. She really shouldn’t indulge this way, but she couldn’t help herself. “Just a little tired,” she finally said, even though it was a blatant lie. “And... my feet hurt a little. I guess I’m not used to wearing heels this high all the time.”

There. That sounded believable. Besides, she needed to cut this off. It was a pipe dream, an illusion. It was only going to hurt worse when they finally bagged the story, and Ben left her life for good. She couldn’t believe how close they’d gotten, and how quickly. She was going to miss him—not for visits to luxurious palaces, or fancy parties, but for simply spending time with him. His humor, his quirks, his passion.

She really, really liked his passion... especially when it was aimed at her.

She could feel his lips brush against her jaw, and she wasn’t sure if it was accidental, a display for the others, or if it was deliberate. Whatever the purpose, she still shivered with need before she got a hold of herself. “If your feet hurt, we don’t have to go all the way back to the palace,” he murmured, his voice low and rumbly and delicious.

She pulled back enough to look at him with confusion. “We don’t?” she asked, not sure what he was saying. She tried laughing it off. “I think they’ll mind if I just wander through here in bare feet, Ben. That’s not very classy.”

Was it a trick of the light or were his cheeks flushed? “Ah... the hotelier? The one who invited us, who’s having this grand opening?” When she nodded, Ben stared at her, his eyes seeming to look into her soul. “It turns out he offered penthouses to all the princes... Erik, Nic, and me. This is the flagship, but he’s going to be building resorts on the other islands. And it’s a big deal if we stay here, especially on the opening night.”

She tilted her head, her brain processing. Then her breath caught.

He means staying together. Here. In a penthouse.

With just one bed, her treacherous mind supplied. And her body heated.

She knew what he was asking.

“Not that we have to stay the whole night,” he hedged, giving her a way out. “You could just, you know, kick your shoes off, hang out on the bed, raid the minibar for tiny little bottles of whiskey and miniscule jars of nuts and dried fruit.”

She laughed, some of the tension of the moment easing. Yes, they’d have an opportunity to have sex… but he was leaving it up to her. Giving her space, letting her think it over.

They’d shared kisses, and God knew the attraction between them was both obvious and intense. But there were so many reasons why doing this was a bad idea.

She swallowed. “The penthouse?” she asked.

He nodded. “It’s just downstairs.”

She bit her lip.

The thing was, a good part of her didn’t care if it was a bad idea. She’d been attracted to Ben since their ill-advised “fake kiss” in the records room, when a nuclear blast of heat had exploded through her, catching her completely unaware. Despite their attempts to keep things platonic, she couldn’t help being more and more aware of him physically—the depths of his eyes, that sexy smile, the sculpted planes of his body. Even more, the way they simply clicked, the way he listened to her even when he was annoyed, the way he did things—like getting her a massage or bringing her here—just to try to make her life easier. He was a better fake boyfriend than any real boyfriend she’d ever had.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, then nodded.

“All right.” She paused. “But… we might as well… spend the night.”

She saw the moment the import of her words sank in. Ben’s expression went from concerned to molten in about five seconds flat. He held out a hand, and she took it, letting him lead her to the elevators.

There were going to be consequences. She just had to make sure she could live with them, because saying no to Ben seemed downright impossible.

* * *

Excitement coursed through Ben as he ushered Jane through the party, then down one floor to the only room, the penthouse suite. He knew it was going to be sumptuous, luxuriously appointed, probably state of the art, and he could not care less. All he cared about was that it had a bed, and that he and Jane could finally, after all this dizzying attraction, make love in it.

They entered the room with the code the hotelier had supplied, locking it. She kicked off her shoes, looking like a sprite in her gown. She reached up, taking the pins from her hair and letting it tumble in wild waves across her bare shoulders. She looked up at him, her green eyes all but glowing with emotion.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, but in seconds, the two of them were fused together, their lips roaming hungrily, the kiss going deep and hot in a matter of moments. He growled, pulling her tight to him, lifting her, molding her body to his. She let out a little squeak, then wrapped her legs around his waist. He’d already been semihard, but now he went hard as iron in a second.

“God, I want you,” he rasped, carrying her over to the huge bed and sliding her on top of it. She surveyed him, propping herself on her elbows, as he quickly tugged off his tie and jacket. Desire made his fingers shake, so the whole process was clumsier and slower than he would’ve liked, but her look of admiration and the way her pink tongue slicked along her bottom lip made it worth it as he took off his shirt.

“You’ve got some catching up to do,” he pointed out. She started to unzip her dress, then looked at him, almost regretfully.

He paused immediately.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting on the bed. “Second thoughts? We don’t have to...”

“Ben, I want you.”

The words slammed through him. “I want you, too,” he said. “God, I want you.”

“But it’s complicated.”

He frowned. “I don’t see why.”

“I’m going to be writing a story. That’s why I’m here,” she said, her voice low and somber.

“That doesn’t have anything to do with this,” he said. “I couldn’t have done as much research as I have without you, and you’re absolutely brilliant. That definitely contributes to why I want you. But I’m not... we’re not...”

“I know,” she reassured him with a small smile. “But if it comes out that we were sleeping together while I was working on this story, it would be unethical. My superiors would consider it a conflict of interest at best, sex as payment for information at worst.”

He reared back, appalled. “You would never!”

“No, I wouldn’t,” she said. “Anyone else, there’s no way I would even consider this. But you go to my head, Ben.” She looked at him tenderly. “You make me want things.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to jeopardize your career,” he said slowly.

“No.” She bit her lip, and he had to clamp down on the sheer heat that that little innocuous action slammed through him. “The way I see it... we could have one night.”

“One night?” He was amazed at how those few little words hit him with both hope and despair.

“We don’t tell anyone, and we pretend it never happened,” she said. “It’s the only way. If anyone asks, we say that the dating was all part of a cover story, we were never really involved. And it has to end immediately once the story is published.”

He sighed heavily. He knew she was right. Besides... he lived in Reinia, and she lived in London. He was going to ascend the throne, and she was working on building her career. He’d only known her for a little over a month. This was probably the best they could manage.

But he wanted more, he realized. He desperately craved more.

Still...

“What do you think?” she said, her eyes wary, yet still blazing with desire.

“I think,” he said, tugging her zipper down slowly and watching her pupils go wide, “that if we can only have one night, we’d better make it worth it.”

Her smile was like the sunrise.

They quickly shed the rest of their clothes. He took a moment to admire the sheer perfection of her, skin smooth and pale and unblemished, rosy nipples on perfect, pert breasts. Her waist nipped in before flaring into generous hips, and of course her long-limbed legs. He stroked his hands over every inch of her, his mouth nipping and exploring as she gasped and writhed beneath him. His own body was tight and hard, eager for her.

“Ben,” she breathed, reaching for him, clasping him to her. He groaned in response, feeling her nipples pebbling with desire. He reached down to the curls between her legs and delving, gently but with intent. She gasped, and her hips jerked spasmodically, involuntarily. She moaned softly as he dipped deeper, parting her folds, feeling her going slick with desire. He gritted his teeth.

“Jane,” he said, nipping at her jawline, then moved to her mouth to feast on it. They rubbed against each other, and he slowly notched himself between her thighs. He had to get a hold of himself before things went too far. Despite the temptation, he forced himself to pull away, to reach into the nightstand which had been thoughtfully stocked with condoms. He forced himself to think of quadratic equations and trade policies so he could get his unruly body under control as he sheathed himself.

“Ben, please,” she urged, undulating gracefully. “I need you.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, putting his hardness against her, then pushed as slowly as he could manage. She was like a tight, wet heaven, and every muscle in his body tensed and strained. He wanted nothing more than to plunge inside her, feeling that hot fist of flesh trembling and clutching at him, but he would do nothing to hurt her.

She tempted him further, wrapping her arms around him, her short nails scratching delicately at his back, driving him wild. He moved with gentle relentlessness, withdrawing until he was almost fully out before pressing forward, like a wave, fully seating himself in her welcoming body.

“Oh, Ben.” She gasped, as his tempo increased. She raised her hips, meeting every thrust eagerly. He found his rhythm starting to stutter as her breathing went ragged, her body squeezing him impossibly tight. He rolled against her, pulling her flush against him, pressing deeper. He reached down, feeling for her clit and stroking in slow, steady circles.

She let out a low shriek of pleasure. “Ben!”

He felt her climax envelop her, and her body clenched around him. He couldn’t stop himself from coming if there was a gun to his head, the orgasm ripping through him until his vision whited out. He jerked against her body as her legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him tight against her. After several quivering aftershocks, he rolled to the side, taking her with him, resting her against his chest. They both were out of breath, looking at each other in wonder.

It was one of the most powerful sexual experiences he’d ever had, he realized. And he was supposed to walk away, somehow, when he’d just found her.

He looked at her, unsure of what to say, of how to deal with the tsunami of emotions currently washing over him. And then she smiled, a sweet, tender, passionate smile.

“Just one night,” she said, her breathing still uneven, “doesn’t mean just one time, right?”

He grinned back. “Give me a few minutes,” he said. “And I’ll show you just how many times one night can mean.”