Читать книгу Prince's Son Of Scandal - Dani Collins - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHE DIPPED HIS head to lightly scrape his teeth against her neck, urging against her ear, “You leave first. I’ll follow you upstairs.”
She gasped, mind going blank before a million thoughts rushed in.
“You have a room here? In the hotel?” What had she thought when he had said privacy? Was the idea of being alone with him intriguing or alarming?
“The penthouse, yes.”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course.” Good gracious he was handsome, even when he frowned. His features weren’t too refined. There was just enough toughness in the intensity of his gaze, just enough stubbornness in the square of his jaw to make him look stern and rugged.
As he read her hesitation, his hand cupped the side of her head while his gaze flicked with irritation at the noise around them. “I want you to myself.”
Empathy panged within her. She knew the wear and tear that being in the spotlight took on a person. She instantly wanted to give him the break he needed. He was a sophisticated man. She had nothing to fear from him physically, but was compelled to say, “I have guards. For a reason.”
She was using her sister’s tonight, both to give her own a much-deserved night off as well as to maintain the illusion she was her twin. She should tell him who she was.
“The room is completely secure. More secure than here,” he added, mouth twisting in dismay at their having been photographed. He led her back to their table. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”
Voices of caution crowded into her head, but when would she have a free pass like this again? When would she meet a man who made her feel anything like this? It wasn’t just physical, although that part was so heady she felt drunk, but there was a rarity, too. There were other men in the world who were a safe bet, men vetted by her brothers, but when would she feel this pull? This compulsion to know more about this man?
Before she talked herself out of it, she let her finger press up for the penthouse. It wasn’t that she didn’t have misgivings, or that she ignored them, she overcame them. It was different. It was another small triumph that had her stepping lightly off the elevator onto thickly carpeted floor.
It was easy to spot the Prince’s room. Two guards were stationed outside the door. Her own accompanied her as she approached them.
“Mademoiselle Sauveterre,” one greeted with a respectful nod. “We were notified to expect you.” He stepped inside and invited her guard to sweep the rooms.
Both men behaved with the utmost professionalism, not betraying a hint of judgment about what they must know was a preliminary for seduction.
A smile touched her mouth as she thought about how her brothers would blow their tops if they knew where she was right now, even though they had both been on the Prince’s side of this equation hundreds of times, the hypocrites.
Then she was left alone and she took in the elegant shades of ivory and sage green on the walls and the furnishings. A glass of watered-down Scotch had been abandoned on an end table, ice long melted. She sniffed, then dared a sip, thought about looking at the view, then decided to leave the drapes closed.
The double doors to the bedroom stood open. She stared at the bed, taking another quick sip of liquid courage just as the main door opened. His star power impacted her anew, making her heart skip.
“You made yourself comfortable. Good.”
“This is yours.” She tilted the glass, then set it aside, instantly wishing she’d kept it to keep her hands busy.
“I’ll make you a fresh one. Or, how about champagne?” He moved to the bar. As he peeled the foil from a bottle, the crinkle seemed overly loud.
This was the moment she should have admitted she was Trella.
A very real fear sat within that admission—that he would develop his own misgivings. He would either want explanations she didn’t care to give, or he might jump to conclusions that made him averse to being with her. In no scenario did she imagine this exciting, lighthearted atmosphere would continue.
“You’re nervous,” he noted as he popped the cork.
“You’re observant,” she said, compelled to at least confess, “I don’t do this.”
It was true no matter which twin she represented. Gili running away for a weekend with a prince was as out of character as her being here with this one.
“I already guessed that.” He set two glasses as he poured, canting his head to eye her. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”
She choked. “No.”
True again for both twins, but she had to look away, mind skipping off the dark memory like a stone off the water’s surface.
No, that was another reason she was here. Being alone with a man was another snapped link in the chain that bound her to the past. She was really, really proud of herself right now. Even though her proffered excuse of “I’m just out of my comfort zone” was the understatement of the year.
He brought the glasses across the room to her and offered her one. “Saluti.”
“Salud.”
They sipped, gazes locked, unspoken expectations hovering between them. Her throat grew abraded by the bubbles.
“What if I change my mind about being here?” she asked in a soft rasp.
“Then I will be disappointed.” His intent expression didn’t change.
“Angry?”
“Disappointed. Very disappointed, bella.” His gaze acted like wildfire, igniting her blood as he swept it across her cheek and down her throat.
He turned away to set music playing. The notes were low and sultry, matching the thick feeling in her veins, the sensual throb of her pulse.
“Either way, I’m pleased to have you to myself.” He came back to her, steps laconic, touch smooth and confident as he looped his arm around her. “Whether you want to talk or dance or...pass the time in other ways.”
He swayed them into a dance that was really just the press of two bodies. Foreplay. They both still held their champagne flutes. Held gazes.
“I wasn’t in the mood to fight other men for your attention.”
“Was anyone else even trying? I hadn’t noticed.” She batted her lashes.
His mouth tilted. “I like that wit, bella. I find myself regretting we only have tonight.”
She tucked her chin and gave him an admonishing look. “You’re patronizing me again. I don’t need the rules spelled out. I’m not that green.”
“See? Such sharp intelligence is the sort of thing that holds my interest longer than a few hours.”
“Is that how long your liaisons usually last?”
He stopped dancing, arm remaining across her back, but loosely. “That’s probably not a good topic of conversation.”
“I know.” Bubbles tickled her nose as she sipped, trying to wash away a strange bitterness on her tongue. It shouldn’t matter what his past looked like. Whatever man eventually attached himself to her wouldn’t come to her pristine. She couldn’t expect it when she had such a complicated history herself. “I think I’m looking for reasons not to like you so I won’t feel so...”
She frowned. The hand she’d rested on his shoulder slid down to splay on his chest as if she had the right to touch him with such familiarity, but touching him felt very natural. Her fingertips dipped beneath the ribbon of red, sliding the tips of her polished nails beneath it as she ever so slightly lifted it off the crispness of his shirt.
“I’m not a pushover. I’m normally the most contrary person you could imagine. A fighter.” Her family told her that all the time, so why was she letting this happen? Her usual streak of rebellion was absent.
Actually, she realized with a spark of insight, it was directed against the life she’d been leading, pushing her to break free of old restraints. No one was stopping her from spending a night with a man except her. All she had to do was choose to.
“I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m sincere that I wish we had more time to get to know one another, but my life has never allowed for long term relationships.” His hand shifted to splay in a warm brand against her lower back, offering a soothing caress. “For what it’s worth—” He bit the inside of his cheek, seeming to weigh what he was about to say. The shadow moved behind his eyes again, telling her that he was uncomfortable with how revealing his words were. “If you walked out of here right now, I wouldn’t go looking for someone else. You’re the only woman I want to be with tonight.”
“Why?” It came out of her with a pang of disbelief. “Please don’t say it’s because you like the way I look.” She didn’t want him to want Gili. It would break her heart—it really would.
His breath came out in a soft snort of disbelief. “Because of the way we make each other feel.”
He lowered his head to graze his damp lips along her jaw and down to her neck, making her shiver. Her nipples pulled tight so quickly they stung. He chuckled softly at the way she audibly caught her breath.
“We’re positively volatile.” His hot breath bathed her ear before his teeth lightly closed on her lobe, nearly causing her knees to buckle.
She pressed her hand more firmly to his chest.
“No?” He drew back, but held her close. Held her up, if she was honest.
“I’m trying to think,” she gasped, nearly overwhelmed by sensations that were the furthest thing from fear.
“And you can’t? Then we feel the same.” His tight smile only made the edgy fist of need inside her clench harder. “Feel, bella. Feel how much you’re exciting me.” He moved her hand all the way under the sash, so the pound of his heart slammed into her palm. “This isn’t anything I’ve ever experienced, either.”
Her scalp tingled. She dropped her champagne glass, ignoring the delicate break of crystal, wanting too badly to touch him with both hands. She slid her fingers to the back of his neck and raised her mouth, inviting him to kiss her. It was pure instinct and he didn’t hesitate, covering her parted lips as though he’d been let off his leash after having been tempted for too long.
The world stopped then spun the other way, dizzying her. She made one whimpering noise, astonished by how thoroughly such a thing could devastate her, wilting all her muscles.
She distantly heard another delicate shatter, then he picked her up, lifting his head to reveal a fierce expression. Victory? Not quite, but there was something conquering there. Something exalted.
Yet his bright gaze asked a question.
She nodded, unable to speak, just gave herself up to it, to him. She knew when to fight her body and when to surrender. Perhaps it was the silver lining to all those years of having to accept that physiology trumped logic. This was bigger than anything she could make sense of.
He set her on the bed and she watched him throw off his jacket, shaken by the feelings that were carving a valley through her. He joined her and dragged her half under him, kissing her again. Thorough, drugging kisses that set her alight, yet she felt stiff and frozen.
“What’s wrong?” He lifted his head, proving himself to be attuned to her in a way that was reassuring and disturbing all at once.
“I’m shy,” she admitted, ducking her head as she said it because that wasn’t her at all. Her eyes stung with emotive tears at how monumental this was. She was alone with a man, on a bed, and he had set the sun inside her. He made it radiate outward, filling her with such heat and joy she was going to burst. “I want to touch you, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I don’t know if I can contain myself.”
“Don’t even try.” His voice brimmed with graveled warning, which might have made her chuckle, but she released her breath and let her hands move to greedily stake a claim.
He was firm everywhere, taut and strong. Hot. Her fingers discovered the textures of his clothes, then slid beneath his shirt as he yanked it free of his belted pants. He made an approving noise as she found satin skin and the tension of his abdomen, then the shape of his rib cage and the sleek muscles across his chest. The sharp beads of his nipples fascinated her.
She made her own appreciative noises, utterly rapt with the contrast of his body to her own, all flat planes and crisp hair and indomitable strength.
He released her zip and dragged down the loosened front of her dress. As he bared her breasts, something elemental gripped her. The spirit of womanhood. She melted onto her back and arched, emphasizing their differences, liking that he made a noise that sounded almost suffering, yet growly and ferocious. He opened his mouth and engulfed her in such a place of earthy pleasure, she released her own cry of agonized joy.
Volatile. Was that what this was? She hadn’t known she could feel like this, frantic yet intoxicated. Impatient yet timeless. She wanted to stay like this forever, running their hands over each other, kissing, mouths needing to fuse and breathing be damned. But as his hands moved on her, shifting silk with a touch so hot it burned her through the fabric, she wanted more. So much more.
His fingertips grazed the slit in her gown and she found herself offering more of her leg then trembling in anticipation, waiting for the feel of his touch on her skin. The pet of his hand on the outside of her thigh made her shiver. She gloried in the way he kissed her harder, deeper, hand shaping her hip, exploring her belly, then tracking to her other thigh. He squeezed the taut muscle then moved with delicious confidence to cup the center of her.
Breath stalling, eyes opening, she waited for panic, but before she could entertain a grim memory, he firmed his touch and rocked his hand, sending a jolt of incredible pleasure through her pelvis. Her eyelids grew heavy again and she found herself lifting, spellbound by the lightning bolts of sensation that grew in strength as they kissed and he caressed her.
How could anything feel this good?
She wanted to touch him as intimately, but she could hardly think of anything but how he was making her feel. Just as she tried to shape him through his pants, his touch changed, exploring beneath silk with knowledge and intention.
She bucked in reaction. “I can’t—My heart is going to explode.”
She moved a reflexive hand to cover his, not quite stopping him, because the slide of his fingers against her was so mesmerizing, but so sensitizing she almost couldn’t bear it. Her entire focus narrowed to that delicate circle and stroke.
“I want to be inside you, but I don’t want to stop touching you. Like that?” He pushed a long finger into her.
She couldn’t speak, could only hear a keening noise that came from her as he penetrated and circled where she was so sensitive and molten that she ached. She tightened, trying to savor, trying to hold back the build, but wanton mindlessness took over. Her hips danced against his hand, the pleasure growing too acute to bear, tension growing and growing until she couldn’t stand it—
“Oh!” Her world exploded in a sudden release that had her shaking and shuddering, flesh pulsing and eyes tearing at the absolute beauty of it.
She pressed his hand still, trying to ease the sensation, trying to catch her breath.
He kissed her, tongue questing for hers, and continued to gently caress her, soothing and teasing so her level of arousal didn’t fade, only edged into deeper desire.
With a groan, she rolled into him, strangely ravenous. She wanted the barriers between them gone. Wanted all of him. What was he doing to her?
He made a feral noise and they tugged at each other’s clothing, stripping in seconds, then rolled back together, naked, gloriously naked. Now he was hers, all hers. She swept her hands over him, enamored with his broad shoulders but equally fascinated by his rock-hard biceps and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow.
When she cradled the fiercest part of him in her palm, she wasn’t frightened at all. She felt powerful, especially when he looked agonized and closed his eyes and breathed, “Bella.”
With a smile, she pressed her mouth to his throat and tried to roll him onto his back. He rolled her beneath him instead, pressing over her as he kissed her, letting her caress him as he used his tongue to mimic what he wanted to do until she couldn’t take it and tore her mouth from his. “I need—”
She didn’t know what she needed. She was restless and urgent, loins feeling achy and neglected. Empty.
He reached over to the night table then rose over her, knees sliding between hers and parting her legs with effortless strength.
She felt so many things in that moment. Vulnerable, yes, but strangely trusting. It didn’t matter if she didn’t particularly enjoy this part. She wanted to know she could take a man—
“Oh.”
He paused, tip pressing for entry, the invasion startling enough that she tensed.
His head came up. His whole body was taut, his cheeks flushed, his eyes glittering, but there was a shred of man still governing the animal. “I might literally die if you’ve changed your mind.”
Maybe that’s what made her smile. Maybe it was the fact her body was so eager for his. Maybe it was simply the joy of this crazy, magical night.
With a little arch, she invited him to complete his thrust and he did with a shudder, sinking deep, gaze never leaving hers, but glowing hot as the center of a flame as their flesh melded.
To say she became a woman under his possession was silly, but she felt like a woman in that moment. Mature and whole and sacred. She was responding exactly as nature intended under the advances of a mate. Her mate. With this act, he gave her back her sexuality, her desire. Her self.
She closed her eyes against something too big to contemplate, but it only made the sensations intensify as he took a testing withdraw and return. She shivered as though velvet passed over her skin.
“Yes?”
“Yes,” she moaned, savoring the deliciousness that lingered with anticipation for another stroke. “More.”
Lucidity faded as he did it again. And again.
He began to thrust with more purpose. She found her hips rising to meet his, longing for the return of his. Needing it. The dance delivered such acute pleasure, she released a strangled groan of enjoyment.
He picked up the tempo and magnificent sensations ran through her. She wanted to tell him but couldn’t speak, as she was too enraptured. Tension gripped her. A kind of tortured ecstasy—her body searching for an answering call in his.
She needed him to be as driven beyond himself as she was. To come with her to this place where nothing existed but this new being they had become with their joining. Scraping her nails down his back, she grasped at his buttocks and pulled him into her. Into the eye of the storm.
They struck the pinnacle together, the climax so intense, she opened her mouth in a soundless scream. Pleasure like she had never known flooded in, drowning her as he held himself magnificently deep inside her, throbbing in her jubilant grip as he released a ragged cry of exhilaration and shuddered with completion.
* * *
Xavier swore.
“What’s wrong?” Trella murmured, hands moving with endless appetite over his damp shoulders.
He withdrew and rolled away. “The condom broke.”
She was glad it was dark now. After the first time, they had turned out the lights and slid under the covers to fondle and caress for ages, barely speaking, just kissing and enjoying. Bonding, she might have been tempted to think, yet something in his silence, and the condoms in the night table, told her he had done this a lot.
She had suffered a hollow ache as she’d forced herself to accept that, despite his sweet words, she was merely the woman du jour for him. A lady of the night, really.
Whether he had sensed her withdrawal, or she was just that easy, he had grown more passionate. The second time had been even better than the first. Her inhibitions were gone and he held out, giving her two shattering orgasms before taking her on a third ride that nearly killed her, their shared climax being so powerful.
She was too sweaty and lethargic to be triumphant, but she was pretty darned smug at having taken a lover. She had distantly been hoping she had rocked his world as thoroughly as he had rocked hers, but reality struck like a brick through a window at his words.
“It’s okay. I won’t get pregnant.” She swallowed, trying to clear the thickness that gathered in her throat.
“You’re on the pill or something?”
Or something. “Yes.”
“I have physicals all the time.”
“I’m fine, too.” Did people really have these conversations? It scraped the romance off a wonderful evening, leaving her thinking about the rest of reality. Guilt crawled in. She had kept secrets from him and—far worse—from her family. They’d be worried sick if they knew where she was.
As if on cue, her phone plinked with the harp notes of her sister’s ringtone. Like some kind of empath, Angelique was picking up on her sudden discord.
“I have to get that,” Trella murmured, then she groaned. Her muscles ached as though she’d run a marathon. She forced herself to rise and move naked across the shadowed room, finding her clutch where she’d dropped it in the lounge, then came back to the bedroom door.
She stayed there, slyly hoping he was looking at her, silhouetted by the lamplight. In a quick exchange of texts, she reassured her sister she was fine. Gili knew something was up, though. Tendrils of misgivings began working through Trella’s system. It was time to call it a night. She needed to hole up at the flat where she knew she was completely safe and process all of this.
“I have to go.” She clicked off her phone and sent him a smile of cheerful resignation.
“Is everything all right?” He rose to pull on his pants, not bothering with underwear, which pleased her for some reason, but he didn’t invite her to stay, which depressed her as well.
“Just my sister. She needs me to get home.” She texted her guard that she would be ready in fifteen minutes and stepped into her thong.
Xavier shook out her gown and brought it to her, then moved behind her as she stepped into it. Hurrying her? She pulled up the gown then lifted her hair while he zipped.
His hands lingered on her skin, not moving, not holding her in place, but his grave words pinned her motionless. “I remember her kidnapping.”
She dropped her arms, letting her hair fall over his hands, as helpless and as terrified as she had ever been. Her breastbone turned to ice and her ears strained to hear what he would say next.
“I was fourteen. My father was renouncing the crown. My mother was already gone, exiled by my grandmother for their divorce. I was feeling very sorry for myself. Then I saw photos of this little girl, so pretty and happy, stolen. I stopped worrying what would happen to me. I was so relieved when she was recovered.”
His fingertips stayed across her shoulders, not caressing, just resting in small hot prints. She thought she would bruise from the contact. Not in a painful way. It was the opposite of injury. Healing?
He drew in a sharp breath and pulled his touch from her skin. “I don’t know why I said that. It was far too personal for both of us. You’re clearly still worried about her if you’re rushing off.” He bent to retrieve her shoes. “I hope she’s all right.”
It was me. She should have said it, but her throat was too tight.
She knew there were people who had rooted for her family all the way along, but it was so wrapped up in their notoriety, she didn’t differentiate the kindly meant from the intrusive or downright cruel. Her family hadn’t asked to be famous for the odd trick of nature that had created two sets of identical twins. They were just people, perhaps better looking by certain standards, definitely richer than average, but regular humans.
Yet the world was insatiably curious about what brand of soap they used and held strong opinions on how they should conduct themselves.
To have this man, who was completely removed from it, reveal such a personal memory connected to her affected her, changing the careful constructs inside her. Defenses that held darkness at bay while keeping her open to the people who loved her shifted and angled to provide space for him to enter.
No. She couldn’t let him in! Tie herself to a man? Lose herself behind someone else’s goals and wishes and expectations when she had so many unreached aspirations of her own? She couldn’t attach herself to someone whose life was bigger than hers. She was trying to escape all the restraints that had bound her for so long.
Shaken at how vulnerable she was to him, she jiggled her bodice against her breasts, then perched on a chair to strap on her shoes, hands trembling.
“Is she really as beautiful as you?” He watched her with his fists pushed into his pockets. His naked shoulders were relaxed and outlined in pale gold while the shadows in his face suggested a brooding expression. The dark patch of his chest hair narrowed to a suggestive line, arrowing to his navel, then lower.
He was the beautiful one. She memorized this last intimate glimpse of him.
“Exactly as beautiful.” She smiled, amused with her own joke, then poignant gratitude accosted her. “Thank you for tonight. I—” She stopped herself from saying something truly gauche.
She wanted to ask if he’d meant it when he’d said it wasn’t always like this for him. She wanted to tell him what he had given her. She wanted to get out of here before she revealed too much.
She glanced at the clock. If she didn’t show her face promptly, her guard would knock and enter. They were paid very well to be diligent and investigate when she wasn’t where she said she would be.
Xavier moved to offer a hand, helping her to her feet. “Thank you. This was lovely.” The words came off lighthearted, punching into her as she imagined the legions of other women who had heard such offhand praise. Not even, I won’t forget you. Just, this was lovely. A pleasant meal. Nothing life-changing.
He brought her hand to his mouth, exactly as he had when they’d met, except this time he turned her hand over and kissed her palm.
Trying to hide how deeply that affected her, she said, “Goodnight, sweet Prince.”
He snorted. “I could have you beheaded for that.”
With a lightning move, he pulled her close and wove his fingers into her hair, planting a real kiss, a final one, on her mouth. It was painfully sweet. Thorough, yet tender. Oddly heartbreaking.
For her.
And even though she was the one to draw back, her lips clung to his. Temptation to stay, to say more, gripped her, but he distracted her.
“You’ve lost an earring.” His fingertip flicked at her lobe.
“No!” Both hands went to her ears, finding one empty. “Here? In the room? Did you notice if I had both while we were downstairs?”
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he offered with an offhand shrug.
“They’re sentimental. A gift from my father.” To Gili. She clicked on the lamp and flung back the bed covers, searching.
A polite knock tapped on the main door, her guard telling her the car was in position. They avoided waiting whenever possible. It drew a crowd.
“I’ll find it and send it to you at the design house.”
“Promise?” She looked from his muscled chest to the sheets to his eyes. Oh, he was spectacular in the golden light, emptying her brain all over again.
“I only make promises I can keep.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t bother worrying about him addressing it to Angelique. She would intercept it or come clean if she had to. “I really did, um, enjoy this.”
His eyes warmed with laughter. “My pleasure, bella.”
She was starting to sound like the neophyte she was. Definitely time to make her escape. She ducked her head and made for the coach before she turned into a pumpkin.
