The Prince’s Bride – Beginning Forever (The Prince’s Bride #3) Read Online J.J. McAvoy

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, New Adult, Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Prince's Bride Series by J.J. McAvoy
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Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
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“Thank you, which is why I said you were sweet.”

He rolled his eyes as he took a bite. He was kind of like a big kid sometimes. Putting my muffin down, I shifted so that I faced him. “Ohhhh, Gale, you are soooo romantic. I am soooo glad we eloped together in the dead of night.”

His gaze shifted to me with his brows raised. He nodded and waved his hand. “Now, one more time without the obvious sarcasm.”

“You are—”

He kissed me before I could get the words out, and everything I was going to say disappeared. I could taste the cinnamon in his mouth. I could feel the rest of me getting warmer all over. Again his arm wrapped around me, pulling me closer to him. My arms wrapped around his neck, and before I knew it, I was in his lap, wanting more of him.

“Gale.” I gasped when he cupped my breast through my blouse.

He paused, taking a deep breath and licking his lips, his eyes meeting mine. “I apologize. I got carried away there for a moment.”

I was shaking again. “I wasn’t stopping you.”

He and I stared at each, and I realized I was still straddling to him. However, when I went to move, he held me in place. “Stay here.”

“What?”

“Let’s eat, but you stay here. I want to feel you...against me.” And just like that, he wasn’t a kid anymore. He was all man.

And the normal fight I had just melted at the sound of his deep, lust-ridden voice. I said nothing, only turned and sat in his lap with my back against his chest. I tried to focus on the food. I picked up my muffin again and nibbled on it, but I was very aware of all of him. Where his hands were, what his body felt like, how his chest rose and fell with each breath...and other things. It took him a moment, but he reached out and grabbed the champagne, pouring it and resting back a bit.

We sat there quietly, eating, trying to calm ourselves down. However, it did not seem to be working for me at all. It had been such a long time since I had been touched by any man, just feeling his legs beside mine was driving me crazy.

“I should move,” I whispered.

“Do you want to move?” His voice sounded stronger, heavier.

“Aren’t we trying to get back in control of ourselves?” I muttered, brushing my curls from my face. “This isn’t really helping.”

“That is the thing. I am wondering back here, why am I trying so hard to control myself?” he questioned, reaching over and brushing the curls off my shoulder, exposing my skin. “I was wondering the same thing last night. Why did I leave your room? Why am I denying myself?” When he kissed my shoulder, my eyes shut at the warmth of his lips on my skin. “Why am I denying you?”

Get it together, Odette!

“Maybe it’s because I’m different,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder at him.

His blue-green eyes were coated over with desire.

“You and I could go anywhere in the world, but we always find ourselves in one room or another, talking for hours. With the way I melt every time we get close like this, you could have easily had me like you have had so many other women.”

“It was not so many.” He frowned.

“Either way, are you treating me like you treated them?”

He was silent for a moment, and I let him have a moment. “You are different.” He nodded and kissed the side of my face. “You are forever. That is the difference. Open your present.”

For me to reach the box that was on the far end of the table, I had to get up. This time, he let me. I took it and sat back down beside him, untying the bow and opening the lid.

“I do not know if you like jewelry, but you will receive a lot of it. Not just from me but my family. In the past, it was the only thing women could pass down to future generations. I found this in one of my bags. My mother apparently wanted to make sure I knew you were different, too,” he explained as I lifted the bejeweled brooch out of the box.

It was heavy and covered in diamonds, rubies, and gold. It was a shield, a crest of some kind, but all of it was made and forced together by some precious stone or metal—even the words. “Per Deus, cordis et in gladio,” I read slowly.

“By God, heart, and sword,” he translated. “They are the words of the House of Monterey. Two eagles hanging, the red and white checkers are of roses, one pure, one stained with blood and love, the four crosses of God that protect us on all sides, the two stars that are the eyes of justice, and three swords that uphold it. Every member of the House of Monterey has one of these. Mine is a ring. Yours will be this brooch.”


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