Going Royal 02 - Some Like It Scandalous (19 page)

He should let her go—put some distance between them and be reasonable and rational about everything.

The way she gazed at him erased those good intentions. Her pupils were large and dilated. Her breath came in swift pants. Her breasts smashed against his chest, her leg thrust between his. Awareness hummed through him. Locking on to her gaze, he pushed all of his doubts aside.

“I want you.” He picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He set her down gently, refusing to just toss her on the bed and fall on top of her no matter how long he’d wanted to do exactly that. He ran his fingers up and down her bare legs, savoring the silken texture of her skin. Her curls tousled around her face. The T-shirt rolled up at the waist, giving him a good view of the blue lace panties.

Sliding his knee onto the bed, he nudged the shirt upward, revealing the smooth plane of her belly. Blessed with generous curves, she was magnificent and the slope of her hip to her abdomen was a glorious thing. He dipped his head down to kiss the skin of her tummy just above the waistband of her panties and smiled. “Your skin is so soft.”

Her fingers caressed his cheek and he looked up to see her staring at him, a private, sweet smile on her lips. Turning his head, he kissed her fingers once before continuing to push her—
his
—shirt up her body until the warm mounds of her breasts appeared. He let his gaze roam over her, stroking his hands up and down her sides, barely allowing himself the pleasure of cupping those sweet curves.

The feel of her—the taste of her—she was in his blood. He just wanted to enjoy the beauty of her. She began to move and he pushed her back into place, nudging the cotton up and over, helping her only long enough to pull the fabric free and toss it away.

The dark beauty spot on the curve of her right breast that so allured him stood out in stark relief against her creamy skin. “You still don’t tan topless.”

“Well, no...” She laughed and her skin went pink as a delightful blush suffused her. For all her sass and intelligence, she’d always possessed an inherent shyness—a modesty that was as attractive as it was charming.

She bumped her hips up at him, impatient, and her fingers plucked at his shirt, but Armand caught her hand and planted it on the bed. He stared at her sternly. “Behave.”

“Behave?” Her eyebrows shot up and she narrowed her eyes.

“Yes.” He leaned down and nipped her lower lip, drawing it between his in a hint of a teasing kiss. “You have to behave, because I want to play.”

“But I want...”

He cupped her breast and flicked a finger over the nipple and she swallowed her words in a gasp.

“Behave.” He repeated. “I’ve waited a long time for this present and I want to play. So you’ll indulge me.” It wasn’t a question or a request. Her gaze sparked with rebellion, but her lips curved up and she relaxed her wrist under his hand. Nodding to himself, he went back to framing her sides, stroking the contour of her shape. He dreamed of this, the way they used to play—waking up to find her sprawled across the bed next to him. Teasing her awake with hot kisses.

So many wonderful memories... He leaned in and took one erect nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. The pebbled skin tightened under his tongue. He ran his hands up and down her body, hooking his thumbs into her panties until they scooted down her legs. He kissed a path between her nipples, showering both with kisses. Her hands flexed against the bed, clenching into fists and releasing. He released her nipple only long enough to pull the panties down and toss them away.

Sprawled on his bed was the most beautiful woman he ever knew—no top model in the world could compare with her lush curves, slender waist or come-hither eyes—a siren who called to him across the world and the years.

He ached for her so bad, it hurt.

Stripping off his clothes, he joined her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. She flowed into them, fitting everywhere she was supposed to—softness to his hard, nails digging into his shoulders, her mouth open beneath his and devouring him in a kiss that was equal parts demand and surrender.

Their breath mingled and he lost track of everywhere her body touched his. The control he fought to hold on to slipped away. His imagination and desire were his worst enemies. Their hips rubbed together and his dick slid against the warm dampness of her sex, her sudden moan matched his and he buried his face against her throat, licking and nipping little kisses to her ear. He drew on the lobe, sucking it as he tortured himself, rubbing the length of erection along the damp slickness of her entrance.

If he just positioned his hips...

“Condom,” he murmured into her ear, tracing the whorls with his tongue.

“I don’t care.” She bit his shoulder and ran her foot up and down against the back of his leg. The action only served to grind his cock against her sex. His eyes crossed in pleasure.

“It wasn’t a request,” he reminded her and cupped her breast, tweaking the nipple just hard enough to elicit another gasp. “Next to the bed, your side—condoms. Put one on me.”

She let out a whimper of complaint and slid against him as she stretched out to open the drawer, she fumbled in it and came back with a foil package. He took advantage of the stretch to slide down and kiss her nipples again, massaging her breasts until she let out another long, low moan.

The foil package ripped and he smiled, sucking her nipple against his teeth and drumming it with this tongue before releasing her. He rolled onto his back and watched her beneath half-lowered eyelids. Pink and flush, her hands actually shook as she trailed a caress down to his cock. His dick twitched, as if eager for her touch, and he held his breath as her fingers shaped him, stroking up from base to tip.

He hissed out a breath between his teeth and her smile grew. He might be giving the orders, but she wasn’t without power.

“Be careful,” he warned. “I’m ready to come right now.”

She bent and kissed the tip. His balls tightened up at the action, but so did the fist around his heart. It was a teasing kiss—she didn’t swirl her tongue or try to suck on him. It was just the barest of caresses—her soft lips against the slit of his cock—a greeting, a lover’s affection.

What little control he had left frayed. She rolled the condom on and he flipped her over, sliding between her thighs. He was wound tight, sweat dotted his arms and rolled down his chest. He settled his cock into place and stared into her eyes as he slid home. Her sex stretched to accommodate him and she arched against the pillows. Her hair spilled out around her like some goddess receiving her due and damned if she wasn’t one.

A ripple of pleasure raced out from his core as he pushed deeper—the slow penetration maddened him, but he didn’t want to hurt her. His mind raced and his lungs burned, but finally he slid in to the hilt. She sighed and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Her arms wound around his neck and her mouth found his. They began to move together, rocking in a motion so familiar and heart wrenching that it shook him to his core.

She kissed him, tongue dueling with his, but it was so Anna—as much giving as taking—and then it was her turn to suck and bite at his skin as she trailed kisses down his throat. He focused on holding the rhythm, driving her to her pleasure—she had to come and come soon or he would fly apart at the seams.

Her fingers dug into his ass, driving him deeper, and her whispery sighs turned to little cries as he ground against her with each stroke. He slid a hand between them, forcing his own eyes open to watch as he stroked two fingers against her clit. Her whole body arched as though electricity shot through her. She clamped down around his cock and cried out. He shook from the unrelenting pleasure pounding through him so fiercely it was almost painful. He drove harder, thrusting until the world faded to the motion of her body wrapped around him, and when she cried out a second time, he pitched over the edge with her.

Collapsing against her, he held her tight. Face buried against her throat, he couldn’t think beyond the sensations rippling down his spine. It went beyond physical intimacy—he’d never been this connected to another person. Her heart raced, matching his beat for beat, where her breasts rubbed his chest.

“I love you,” she whispered against him and he squeezed her close.

He loved her too.

How the hell am I ever going to keep her safe?

* * *

She closed her eyes, but didn’t intend for sleep—just a lazy drift on the pleasure still quaking in her bones. They used to do this too—make love and then lie there together for hours, sometimes talking, sometimes saying nothing at all. They didn’t always need words to fill in those empty spaces. Being together was enough. Charlie’s breath was alternately cool and hot against her flushed skin. Every nerve hummed. When he insisted on caressing her sides earlier, she didn’t think he could possibly be aware of just how sensitive she was to each touch.

She missed this.
I
missed him
.

“I need to get off you.” His voice, muffled against her throat, skimmed the surface of her pleasure and doused it with a cold, hard reality.

He didn’t sound pleased.

“You’re fine.” He squashed her to the bed, but she didn’t care. She liked the feeling of his weight over her, touching her, holding her. It made being together again real, but he rolled away as if she hadn’t spoken. He made it to the edge of the bed and sat, his back to her.

“Charlie?”

He glanced over his shoulder, but his unreadable expression seemed a far cry from the tender passion consuming them just minutes ago. “I just need a moment, I’m going to wash up.” He disappeared into the bathroom and she went cold. Frost seemed to turn the room from a haze of hot pleasure to frozen tundra. She reached for the T-shirt and pulled it on slowly. It took her longer to find her panties.

When he still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom, the last lingering dregs of pleasure dried up. Uneasy, she paced a step toward the bathroom and then away. Looking back, she found him standing in the doorway, a brooding look on his face.

“My apologies, Anna.” His voice—so cultured, so well mannered, so civilized—betrayed none of the husky tones he used when he issued orders just a little while before.

“For what?” She floundered, like someone had tossed her into the deep end of the pool and forgot to mention it had no bottom.

“For...for making love—we were not ready for that and we shouldn’t have.” Absolute calm dominated his voice—calm and distance. He’d dragged on a pair of pants while he was in the bathroom. Shirtless with the top button undone on his slacks, he looked rakish. But his expression wasn’t that of sexy fun or teasing. “I overstepped myself.”

“You’re apologizing to me?” She couldn’t quite believe her ears or her heart. Tension surged through her muscles and her right eye twitched.

“We came in here to talk and clear the air.”

“I think we cleared up a lot—”
And I said I love you.
But the last she held back, she didn’t even mean to hold it back, but...

You didn’t say you love me.

Her legs went rubbery and she sat abruptly on the edge of the bed. Her eyes burned, but she blinked them furiously, refusing to give in to tears. She didn’t look at Charlie, but he walked across the room to the sitting area. He picked up one of the wineglasses and drained the contents.

Controlling the urge to scream, she looked up to find him standing in front of her, wineglass in hand. She took it and sniffed once. “I wish you wouldn’t apologize for it. I thought...”
What had I thought?
That we’d have sex and it would all be better?

“Yeah, I know.” He sat next to her, close enough to feel, but not quite touching. “And that is why I’m apologizing...”

God
,
no
,
you will not talk to me in that...that...prince voice.
Not again.
She surged to her feet, ignoring the wine she sloshed, and strode toward the door.

“So much for not running. We have hours left on your deal.” His voice, razor sharp, cut her stumbling steps to a halt. “Isn’t that what you said? All will be forgiven—no matter what we say or how angry we become?”

Pivoting slowly, she looked back. He stood at the edge of the bed, his hands in his pockets, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed. He walked toward her, slowly, almost stalking.

“That is what you said? We’ll rip the Band-Aid off?” His voice was lazy silk and steel twined together. It stroked her and cut her in the same breath. “We won’t dance around our mistakes—ask any question, get any answer...”

She backed into the door. He didn’t slow until he stood right in front of her. “You keep running, Anna.”

“I know.” She winced, and as much as she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. He seemed to draw all the light in the room—it shone against his black hair and rippled over the gleam of sweat on his skin.

“Do you? I buried my father and I needed you. You were there one moment and gone the next.” His nostrils flared. She thought she’d known what angry was like, but he was furious. With her or with himself—she wasn’t sure.

“I was stupid, Charlie. I was...foolish and naïve and a whole lot of other words. I can’t apologize enough for the choice. It cost me—it cost you.”

“It cost
us.
” He took a step back. “I blamed myself for it. I took issue with keeping the truth from you. You left—because you found out the truth, not because of the lie.” He stretched his hands out. “And this is the truth. In this room, I am Charlie. I am free of the encumbrances of my title. I can be me. Out there? I am the Prince Armand, Grand Duke Andraste—and five thousand employees, servants, staff and family depend on me to keep my head. To see to their welfare. I don’t have a country. I have a company. I have a family. This is my life, Anna. The bald truth of it.”

He stalked away to stand before the windows. The sunset in the distance and the illumination of it seemed surreal. They hadn’t been in that room long enough for the day to even end and yet—

It seemed centuries.