Taming the Prince (16 page)

“So does this mean you missed me?” Shane asked between kisses.

“Yes, desperately,” she replied as she groped for breath and coherent thought.

He kissed her again. Then, “But it’s only been hours since we saw each other,” he pointed out.

“And it’s been hell,” she said, pressing her mouth to his once more.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “Hell.”

Neither spoke for long moments after that, only embraced more heartily and kissed more passionately and clung to each other as if they never wanted to release the other again. Somehow, though, Sara registered the sound of another car pulling up outside, of two car doors opening and slamming shut, and she sprang away from Shane—but only far enough to stop the onslaught of his kisses, and temporarily at that.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Among other things,” he assured her.

She smiled. “My mother’s expecting guests.”

“Yeah, this impatient Devon, for one. You never did tell me who he is or why he’s impatient.”

She grinned. “Jealous?”

“You’re damned right I’m jealous.”

“You have no need to be. There’s no one but you, Shane.”

His expression changed then, to one that told her how very relieved he was to hear her say such a thing. Honestly. Could he have ever doubted? she wondered. Could he have truly thought she would ever want anyone but him? Silly boy…

“Come upstairs,” she said.

And without awaiting a reply, she took him by the hand and fairly dragged him up to her bedroom. She knocked on her mother’s door as she passed, muttered something about lying down because she had a frightful headache and would be down to greet their guests in half an hour. She heard Shane chuckle and promise her it was going to last a hell of a lot longer than thirty minutes. Sara made a mental note to hold him to it. But first she wanted to hold him to herself. And no sooner had her bedroom door closed behind them than she pulled him into her arms and kissed him. Deeply. Wantonly. Needfully.

He wasted no time with words and went right into action, cupping her jaw with one hand to urge her mouth open wider for the penetration of his tongue. Then he easily pushed the top of her gown down to her waist, baring her breasts—what a brilliant man the designer was to have foreseen such a need for the garment, she thought vaguely—and filled his hand with one of the tender globes. Impatiently, he palmed her, rubbing her breast in intimate circles, kneading the delicate flesh in impetuous fingers. Then he tore his mouth away from hers and kissed her throat, her neck, her shoulder, before lowering his head to draw the erect peak of her breast deep into his mouth.

She tangled her fingers in his dark hair as he began to suck at her, pushing his head, his mouth, more firmly against her. “I—I thought we were going to…to talk,” she gasped.

“Haven’t you heard?” he said, the words coming warm and damp against her skin. “Actions speak louder than words. And right now, I’m pretty much shouting at the top of my lungs.”

So he was, Sara thought. So he was. So what could she do but listen to him? Listen and contribute her own side of the conversation.

For long moments he tugged at her breast, mouthing the taut, sensitive peak, sliding the tip of his tongue along its lower curve. When he straightened to kiss her again, she reached for his tie, pulling the length of silk free from his collar to cast it aside. His jacket went next, when she skimmed her hands beneath it and pushed it off his shoulders, and she hastily went to work on the buttons of his shirt. That garment, too, was then cast aside, and Sara made immediately for his belt and the zipper on his trousers.

And never in her life had she felt so comfortable and correct as she did in that moment, undressing a man. Because it wasn’t just any man she was undressing. No, it was the man she wanted. The man she needed. The man she loved.

He found the zipper at the side of her dress and yanked it down in concert with her opening of his own trousers, then pushed at the pale blue silk until it slipped down over her hips, pooling in a soft puddle at her feet. And then she stood before him wearing only white silk panties she had donned over white silk stockings with garters, and pale blue satin high heels. Shane groaned when he saw her attire, and her fingers on his trousers stilled.

“Oh, man,” he said. “Do you realize how many men fantasize about seeing a woman dressed this way?” Then a thought seemed to occur to him. “Why are you dressed this way? I didn’t think women wore garter belts anymore, unless they were anticipating…”

Sara smiled a seductive little smile. “They do if they think it feels erotic under their clothing,” she said.

Shane gaped softly at her. “Are you telling me…”

“I always wear braces, Shane. Garters to you,” she said, translating the term to American. “They make me feel—” she smiled naughtily “—like a woman,” she finally fin
ished. “Just because I wasn’t sexually active before doesn’t mean I never felt sexual, you know.”

“Oh, man,” he muttered again. “So then the whole time we were together up there on the mountain, you were wearing…”

“Well, not the entire time. I had to slip out of them when I took off my shirt to make bandages. My stockings were a mess.”

“But before that?”

“Yes, I was wearing them before that.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Oh, man. If I’d known…”

“Yes?” she asked with much interest.

This time he was the one to smile naughtily. “We could have had a real interesting time in the washroom on the jet, Sara. And you wouldn’t have been able to put a stop to it that night on the mountain, either.”

“And tonight?” she asked.

His smile went positively wicked at that. “I don’t think you want to call a stop to it tonight.”

“Damn. Am I that transparent?”

He took advantage of her question to give her a thorough once-over from head to toe. “Um, in case you didn’t notice, sweetheart, you’re more than transparent. You’re almost naked.”

Though he quickly went about rectifying that, hooking his thumbs in her panties and pulling them down over her hips. Sara aided him the rest of the way, until all she had left on were her braces and heels. She started to removed those, too, but Shane halted her with a gentle hand.

“Keep them on,” he said roughly. “I like you that way.”

“Nearly naked?” she asked.

“All the best parts are naked,” he assured her.

She sighed fretfully, throwing a wistful look at his loosened—but not yet removed—trousers. “Yet you defy nudity yourself. Spoilsport.”

He pulled her against him, her naked breasts rubbing intimately against his bare chest, stirring parts of her that she hadn’t thought could be any more stirred. “You want me naked?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, please,” she told him.

“Then go for it.”

She needed no further encouragement. Gripping the waistband of his trousers in back, Sara began to push them down with his briefs, over his taut buttocks, his trim hips, his lean thighs, kneeling before him as she pulled them down around his ankles, until he could step out of the garments and she could toss them to the side. As she began to rise slowly again, her cheek brushed the rigid member between his legs, standing now at full attention, and, impulsively, she dropped a swift kiss along its length. Shane caught his breath at the gesture, and when she understood why, she turned her head and slid the tip of her tongue along its full length, then parted her lips to draw him fully inside.

“Oh, Sara…” he said as she gripped his thighs and moved her head forward, taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. He uttered another sound, too, one that was feral and wild and uncontrolled, and she reveled in this newly discovered power she held over him. For long moments, she pleasured him orally, loving the way he twined his fingers in her hair to urge her gently forward even more. She only stopped when she felt his fingers gripping her shoulders, silently encouraging her to stand. But he said nothing as he met her gaze and grinned a drunken grin. Still, she was fairly certain she knew what he was thinking.

Slowly, wordlessly, he began to walk her backward toward her bed, but he surprised her yet again when they got there. Instead of waiting for her to turn down the coverlet, when she turned around and bent to perform the action, he stepped up and, without warning, covered her hips with his hands and entered her deeply from behind. Sara gasped at his entry and tried to straighten, but he opened one hand
over the small of her back, and gently he bent over again. His other hand dipped beneath her, catching her breast and giving it a tempered squeeze.

Obediently, she bent forward, gripping the side of the bed and spreading her legs wider. Shane moved his hands back to her hips then and pulled her body toward his, deepening his penetration even more. He skimmed the pad of his thumb lightly up and down the length of the silky garter pressing into her buttock, then moved his digit to the center of her bottom, caressing her, creasing her, pressing lightly into her. Sara caught her breath at the intimacy, pushing her hips back more, taking him deeper inside her.

Again and again he entered her that way, the friction of him inside her delicious in a way Sara could never have imagined. But just when she thought she would spiral completely out of control, he withdrew, turning her around to face him, kissing her deeply again.

And as he kissed her, he urged her back onto the bed. Sara lay back with her legs dangling over the side of the mattress, and Shane stepped forward to enter her again. He jerked her legs up and hooked her ankles around his waist, then thrust into her, closing his eyes at the sensations that must have been winding through him. Sensations, Sara guessed, that were much like the ones she felt herself. She threw her arms up over her head and let the ripples wash over her, glorying in the rapid pace of his thrusting, knowing it was she who held him in such thrall, giving herself over to him just as completely.

With one final hard plunge, Shane threw back his head and cried out his culmination, and mere seconds afterward, Sara followed him, fairly melting under the onslaught. For one long moment, it felt almost as if time had stood still, absorbing them into one perfect, consummate, eternal climax. And then that moment ebbed, and she slowly returned to earth. Shane collapsed onto the bed beside her, and somehow, between the two of them, they managed to pull back the coverlet and crawl beneath it. There, they clung
to each other, holding fast, as if each feared letting the other go.

For long moments, they only lay silent, catching their breath, gathering their thoughts. Then, softly, Sara said, “Well, I suppose I should take you downstairs and introduce you to my mother.”

Beside her, Shane chuckled. “I’d rather meet this Devon guy. You never did tell me who the hell he is.”

“He’s the man my mother would like me to marry.”

Shane stopped chuckling at that. “Then, by all means,” he said, “introduce me to your mother. And Devon, too, the schmuck. Think they’d notice if I didn’t bother putting on my pants?”

“Well, it would certainly make a statement, wouldn’t it?”

“Damned straight.”

Sara waited to see if he would say specifically what that statement might be, but nothing more was forthcoming. So she only snuggled more closely against him and wished with all her heart that he would be able to see how very much she loved him without her having to put voice to the words, because she simply wasn’t sure she could say them just yet.

Instead, he changed the subject, though he didn’t seem all that eager to do it. “I guess you heard about King Morgan?” he asked softly as he held her close, his voice sounding troubled and uncertain.

She nodded. “Word travels fast in Penwyck, you know. It’s a wonderful relief to realize that His Majesty is going to be all right.”

“Not able to rule anymore, though,” Shane pointed out.

“No,” Sara agreed. “But at least Broderick will have to step down now. Did you know it’s been rumored that he himself is the head of the bloody Black Knights?”

This was obviously news to Shane, because when she glanced up to gauge his reaction, his dark brows had shot right up into his hair.

“There’s not been any proof, mind you,” she added. “But there are those who think he’s been calling the shots over the years. Me included, frankly. There’s just too much gone unanswered for it not to be him.”

“So what happens if they find out that’s true?” Shane asked.

“I imagine the RET will have much to say about it. At least he’s been forced down now and won’t be in line to rule the kingdom.”

“But King Morgan
will
have to name his successor,” Shane said.

Sara sensed the anxiety in his voice when he spoke. “You’re afraid they’re right, and that you and your brother might be the missing heirs.”

He nodded. “I keep telling myself it’s impossible. That there’s no way I could be…of royal blood,” he finished in a melodramatic tone. “But as long as there’s a chance…”

“What will you do if you and Marcus
are
the missing heirs?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know.”

Sara wished she knew what to say that might soothe his worries, but she could only watch in silence as he let the thoughts tumble through his brain. Finally, though, he looked down and met her gaze levelly. “There’s one thing I do know, though,” he told her.

“What?” she asked.

He hesitated a moment, then, very softly, he said, “I know I want you to be with me no matter what.”

She smiled. “Of course I’ll be with you when you find out the truth, Shane. That’s what friends are for.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. I want you to be with me when I find out the truth, sure. But, Sara…”

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling breathless for no reason she could name.

“I want you to be with me after that, too,” he said. “I want…”

“What?”

“I want you to be with me…forever.”

Oh, dear heavens…

“And not as my friend. Well, not just my friend,” he hastily qualified.

She narrowed her eyes at him, still afraid to let herself hope. “What do mean?”