Their Virgin Princess (Masters of Ménage #4)(19)

Oh, god no.

For the last two years, she'd been plagued by panic attacks, though they'd begun to slow down. She'd thought she was getting better, but now she couldn't breathe. Damn it, she needed to breathe.

Alea pushed off the bed and started charging across the room, her blood racing through her veins, her heart roaring in her ears. Blackness swam at the edge of her vision.

"Lea? Baby?"

The "baby" nearly did her in. She needed his arms around her, and it wasn't going to happen. Coop probably called every female under the age of eighty "baby." Even if his voice had been so tender that she wanted to cry, she couldn't take his endearment personally.

Suddenly, Coop raced around her, gripping her shoulders, holding her secure. He towered over her, his golden brown hair shining under the soft recessed lights. His broad shoulders seemed to go on for days. He looked so masculine, so fiercely capable of protecting the woman he loved. Yet Coop regarded her with such soft concern. 

She wanted to melt against him-and if she did, she'd make a fool of herself. Time to put space between them. "I'm going to the bathroom. Just go away, Cooper. I'm fine."

Alea charged toward her luxurious bathroom, slamming the door behind her. He would leave now. And damn it, no, that wouldn't disappoint her. Cooper had a job to do, so of course he would retreat outside her bedroom doors, leaving her utterly alone.

Even knowing that's what he should do, she leaned against the back of the door, trying to get a lungful of air, and fought tears. Why cry for what she couldn't change? Angrily, she swiped at the wet paths on her cheeks, then wound her hands to the back of her bodice, pulling at the cinches. In a moment, her breasts broke free and she dragged blessed oxygen into her lungs.

She pushed the whole gown off and got out of the god-awful spandex undies she'd forced her body into because she didn't want anyone to know that she wasn't perfect. God, if they only knew.

Tears streaked down her face as she turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror. She wasn't beautiful. She was supposed to be a princess, but somehow she'd ended up with small breasts and an ass that was a bit too wide. Her stomach wasn't flat.

They had beaten her for that in the brothel. She could still feel the switch they had used on her, still see the faint scars on her belly. She wasn't pretty enough to sell. She wasn't sexy enough to fuck. No one would want her.

But someone hated her enough to have her kidnapped and tortured.

Alea crossed to the sink and turned on the cold water. She had to get control of herself quickly because the coronation ball was still in progress. Piper would expect her there. She needed to get dressed again. And she needed to confront her cousins who had involved everyone in the investigation about her abduction except her.

She'd been so sure when Khalil had died that her ordeal was all over. She'd cried and tried to come to terms with everything. But she'd been safe-or so she had believed. Now she knew it had all been a falsehood.

And her cousins had perpetrated it.

She couldn't face the investigators again wearing that dumbass gown. She'd picked it out for stupid reasons. Piper had told her it was gorgeous, and she'd thought that maybe Dane, Landon, and Cooper would think she was pretty for an evening.

So stupid. She should have just picked a black dress that covered everything and wouldn't potentially embarrass the hell out of her.

"Oh god, you're gorgeous."

Alea started, her heart nearly stopping at Cooper's masculine groan. He was standing in the doorway, staring at her intently, his mouth set in a slightly salacious expression. Slightly? A second glance suggested that maybe she was underestimating him.

Her first instinct was to leap for a robe, a towel-anything that would cover her-but she just stood there, utterly frozen. He was staring at her naked body, and he wasn't running away. In fact, he was moving toward her. She retreated a quick step, but her back met the marbled wall, and there was nowhere else to go.

Alea could hardly catch her breath to speak. "You should go."

"God, you're so fucking beautiful." He sounded like he meant it. He edged closer, towering over her.

"You can't be in here," she protested, but it wasn't the sound of a woman who strongly meant what she was saying. Instead, it sounded breathy, almost like a seduction. What was wrong with her?

"Why not, Lea? Give me one good reason." He braced himself against the wall behind her, his body pressing close.



       
         
       
        

She could think of about fifty reasons, but only one came out of her mouth. "I'm naked."