Page 40 of Lost Prince

She wags a finger at me. “You’re insatiable.”

“It’s your fault.” I watch her fine ass as she enters my bathroom. It’s all I can do to keep from joining her. Since I don’twant to push my luck, I decide instead of another round of sex, I’ll go down to the home gym to work out.

By the time Diana emerges, I'm in my gym shorts, but still shirtless. She looks fresh and put-together, a far cry from the delightfully disheveled woman of moments ago. I pull her in for a deep kiss, savoring the taste of her.

"Sure I can't convince you to play hooky?" I murmur against her lips.

Diana sighs, resting her forehead against mine. "You know I can't.”

“How about dessert later?” It’s a little embarrassing how much I need her.

“As much as I’d like that, you can’t be interrupting me at work. You’re too distracting.”

“Distracting, huh?” I like that more than I should. Perhaps it's because I don’t want to be the only one in this situation who is helpless against this pull.

She pats my cheek. “You know you are.”

“Dinner later, then?”

She nods. “And dessert.”

I kiss her again, not wanting to let her go. Then I walk her to my door, feeling a pang in my chest. It's ridiculous since I'll see her in a few hours.

I open the door to find Lana standing there, her raised fist hinting she was about to knock. Her eyes widen as she takes in Diana, her hair still damp from the shower. Shock flashes across Lana's face, quickly followed by disapproval.

Fuck.

Lana’s gaze shifts to me, taking in the scars on my chest, and her expression crumples, a look of pain and guilt. It suggests that they hadn’t been there three years ago when I’d gone missing.

Diana mumbles a hasty goodbye and hurries past Lana, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I feel a surge of frustrationand concern. I hadn't wanted her to leave like this, especially not with Lana's arrival complicating things.

Before Lana can say anything or potentially follow Diana, I step back, gesturing for her to enter.

"Come in," I say.

Lana hesitates for a moment, her gaze turning down the hall after Diana.

“You wanted to talk to me,” I say gruffly, pulling her attention to me.

As Lana steps into my room, her eyes dart around, taking in the rumpled sheets and no doubt the scent of sex. I brace myself for the inevitable interrogation.

“The help, Lazaro? Really?”

My jaw clenches. “I’m beginning to wonder why you looked so hard to find me and bring me home.”

Pain flashes in her eyes, and I fight against the guilt I feel at causing it. But Jesus, she’s such a hard ass, busting my balls all the time. Had it always been like that between us?

“You’re my brother, that's why.”

I shake my head, finding a T-shirt and tugging it on. “Were you always poking your nose in my life?”

She sighs. “I’m worried about you. You need time to heal and adjust?—”

“I’m not a child,” I bark at her, sounding like a petulant teenager. “You seem to think that because I don’t have memories, I’m incapable of managing my life.”

She flinches at my tone but presses on. "That's not fair. You know I only care about your well-being."

"My well-being? Is that another way of saying you need me to get my memory back? Because that seems to be all anyone cares about these days."