Page 58 of Dark Princess Emerging

Gathering her borrowed nightgown, she headed for the bathroom. "Don't fall asleep until I'm out. I won't be long."

"I won't." He got in bed and lay down over the covers.

She hoped he didn't intend to spend the night like that, but right now, she was enjoying the view. It would be better if he removed the shirt as he had done last night, and she planned to ask him to do it once she was out of the bathroom.

Once in the shower, Morelle washed her body and the fuzz on her head with the liquid soap that smelled so good. She stood under the warm spray a little longer than was needed to wash away the soap because she enjoyed how it felt, and there was no reason to rush through things that gave her pleasure.

It was a new concept that she was still adapting to.

In the temple, everything had been austere, and things had been done quickly and efficiently without any regard for enjoyment. The water she'd washed with hadn't even been warmed up. Here, everything seemed to be about pleasing the senses—the soft fabrics her clothing was made of that seemed to caress her body, the food that was delicious in addition to being nutritious, the soap that smelled sweet and flowery and was not just meant to clean but to soothe and perfume. Even the bedding was like an intimate caress.

Drying off quickly, she slipped the borrowed nightgown over her head. The material felt amazing against her skin, almost liquid, cool, and sensual. As she'd suspected, the hem barely covered her bottom, but the width was fine, maybe even a little loose across her still-too-thin frame.

Looking in the mirror, Morelle was happy with how the garment made her look. The nightgown was a pale pink that made her skin glow, and the short length made her legs look long. Her hair was growing back, just enough to create a soft, dark fuzz that somehow made her features look more feminine rather than harsh.

With one last look in the mirror, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

Brandon's sharp intake of breath was exactly the reaction she'd hoped for, and as his eyes traveled from her face down the length of her body, lingering on her legs, they started to glow.

"Where did you get that nightdress?" His voice was husky. "It wasn't among the ones Melinda chose for you."

"It's borrowed." She smoothed her hands along the sides. "I wanted something more alluring."

His eyes narrowed as understanding dawned. "So, when you said you'd be satisfied with me holding you as you slept, that was a lie."

"Not exactly." She sauntered toward the bed with an extra sway in her hips, as Ella had demonstrated. "I was just hoping for more."

The nightgown swished around her thighs as she moved, and she was acutely aware of Brandon's gaze following her every movement.

Still, despite her show of confidence, her heart was racing.

This was all new territory for her, and it was so exciting. Seduction, desire, and the art of tempting a male resonated with something deep and primal within her. This wasn't nearly as foreign as she'd thought it would be.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Princess," he said, his voice low and rough.

Climbing onto the bed on her knees, she let the nightgown ride up just enough to give Brandon a glimpse of more thigh, and the way his breathing hitched was deeply satisfying.

"I'm just getting ready for bed in my borrowed nightgown," she said, feigning innocence and wondering whether his earpieces were translating her tone as well as her words.

His laugh sounded strained even through her earpieces, so maybe they were doing as good of a job of transmitting her inflections.

"You know exactly what you're doing," he said.

She did, and the power of it was intoxicating, the freedom of it exhilarating.

The fact that Brandon was obviously affected only made it better. His usual controlled demeanor was cracking, revealing the passion he'd struggled so hard to conceal. All she had to do was push a little more, and maybe tonight, he would finally let go of some of his cherished restraint.

As he shifted against the pillows, placing his arms behind his head, she'd still caught the evidence of his arousal before he hid it by crossing his legs at the ankles.

"I want to touch you," she said as she moved one knee over and straddled him.

35

BRANDON

Brandon could barely breathe.

Morelle was straddling his thighs, wearing that skimpy nightgown that was nearly sheer, her core pressed against his erection.