The Firstborn Prince

By: Virginia Nelson


Instead, he was the one on fire. He kept his hands on the desk on either side of her, but she rose into the kiss as if it were the air she needed to survive. Her small hands wound around his neck, and her mouth moved under his like sin brought to life.

He pressed closer to her, the whisper of fabric that she wore so soft and fine under his hands that he felt the heat of her through it.

He was keeping his hands on the desk, he reminded himself, so that things didn’t get out of control. But he couldn’t make himself release her, dragging his palms lower to cup her sweet little ass and pull it upward so she pressed more fully against him.

Turning his head, he improved the angle of the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers and twining his tongue with hers. The little sound she made in the back of her throat only served to make him hungrier. Needier. Harder.

Her nails scraped his scalp, and the fabric of that dress slicked upward under his palms, just giving him a hint of how hot and soft her flesh was as his fingers grazed her thighs.

God, she was a sexy little package. But then her hand braced on his chest, silently asking for distance between them.

“Foster?” she asked softly.

He blinked, reminding himself who he was, where they were, why it was all a bad idea.

Forcing himself to release her, he tried not to stumble as he backed away from Natalie. But he could still see her, flushed cheeks and abraded lips looking like she’d just been kissed and well.

“Sorry, I—” Connor’s voice broke into the silence growing between them. “Ha, sorry. Forgot my folder.”

His brother entered the room, grabbed the folder while grinning, and wiggled his brows at them both. “See you both later!” he chirped before leaving.

When Foster looked back at Natalie, she was running a hand through that mermaid mop of reddish gold and shaking her head. “Ah, I get it. You did that on purpose because you knew he’d be back. You’re clever, Foster. Ask, next time, before you randomly grope me, okay?”

She turned away from him, adjusting things on the desk, and Foster tried to find words. Part of him wanted to tell her that kissing her had nothing to do with the plan. It didn’t have a thing to do with his brother or anything so manipulative.

It had been partially out of jealousy and partially because he couldn’t resist the idea of touching her for even another second.

But the other part of him, the more rational part, recognized that anything he could say would be a loss of ground. She’d put him back in control and not corrected him for his lapse in judgment. Better to leave things as they were and not give up the position of power she’d granted him.

So, he said nothing, simply picked up his own folder and considered it. “You didn’t tell me you were putting this much work into the plan.”

She cleared her throat before pacing to the window to look down on the city below. “Yeah, you’re paying for an image consultant, boss. And that’s what you’re getting. I know you have your golden distraction plan, but I am not kidding insofar as following my directions would be good for your company. I expect you to follow the rules—I made you a list in the folder—as much as I expect Connor to. If I’m going to get business later, based on the fact that this venture was successful, I need you to cooperate, too. This is a referral and word-of-mouth-based business, so… Follow directions, got it?”

Her list for him was reasonably simple. She’d broken it down into ten rules.

“Does Connor have the same set of rules?” he asked, skimming the list in question.

“No,” she answered, still not looking at him. It bothered him, on some ridiculous level, that she wasn’t looking at him. “I made them specific to each of your weaknesses.”

“Boyds do not have weaknesses,” Foster recited automatically.

She finally glanced at him over her shoulder, and he was pleased at the little smile curling her sensual lips. “Everyone has weaknesses,” she replied.

He was fast beginning to believe that she was one of his. Which was good. It meant she’d be equally tempting to his brother.

Yeah, right, some part of him said. But he squashed the little voice with a fist.


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