Читать книгу Princess's Pregnancy Secret - Natalie Anderson - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

‘SLIP THIS AROUND your shoulders and we can leave immediately.’ He held the jacket out to her. ‘No one will...’ He trailed off as she stared at him uncomprehendingly.

He’d only been stripping in order to clothe her? To protect her from prying eyes rather than continue with...with...

Suddenly she was mortified. She’d thought that he’d been going to—

‘No.’ She finally got her voice box to work. ‘No. That’s impossible.’

Nervously she licked her lips. What was impossible was her own reaction. Her own willingness. Horrified, she stepped away from the temptation personified in front of her, backing up until she was almost against the wall on the far side of the room.

He stood still, his jacket gently swinging from his outstretched hand, and watched her move away from him. A slight frown furrowed his forehead. Then he shifted, easing his stance. He casually tossed the jacket onto the antique sofa that now stood between them.

His lips twisted with a smile as rueful as it was seductive. ‘I’m not going to do anything.’

‘I know,’ she said quickly, trying and failing to offer a smile in return.

She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid of herself. Her cheeks flamed and she knew a fierce blush had every inch of her skin aglow. Shamed, she clutched the material closer to her chest.

This had been such a mistake. More dangerous than she ever could have imagined. Her breathing quickened again. She was so mortified but so sensitive. She glanced at him again only to have him snare her gaze in his. He was watching her too intently. She realised that his breathing was quickened, like hers, and a faint sheen highlighted his sun-kissed skin.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked softly. ‘I’m sorry.’

But he didn’t look sorry. If anything that smile deepened.

But she also saw the intensity of the heat banked in his expression and something unfurled within her. Something that didn’t help her resistance.

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she muttered. ‘It’s a cheap dress and it doesn’t really fit that well.’

‘Let me help you fix it,’ he offered huskily. ‘So you can get out of here.’

‘I can make do.’ She glanced at the locked door behind him. ‘I’d better go.’

She knew there was another exit from the room, but it was locked by the security system. She couldn’t use it without showing him she was intimate with the palace layout. He could never know that. Maybe she could drape the blue and purple hair of her wig over her shoulder to hide that tear.

‘Trust me,’ he invited gruffly. ‘I’ll fix your dress. Won’t do anything else.’

That was the problem. She wanted him to do something. Do everything or anything he wanted. And that was just crazy because she couldn’t set a lifetime of responsibility ablaze now. What made it worse was that he knew—why she’d moved to put not just space, but furniture between them.

‘You can’t get past them all with that strap the way it is now,’ he muttered.

He was right. She couldn’t get away from him either. Not yet.

So she stepped nearer, turning to present her shoulder with the torn strap. ‘Thank you.’

Holding her breath, heart pounding, she fought to remain still as he came within touching distance. The tips of his deft fingers brushed against her burning skin as he tried to tie the loose strap to the torn bodice. She felt it tighten, but then heard his sharp mutter of frustration as the strap loosened again.

She inhaled a jagged breath. ‘Don’t worry—’

‘I’ll get it this time,’ he interrupted. ‘Almost there.’

She waited, paralysed, as he bent to the task again, trying desperately to quell her responsive shiver to the heat of his breath on her skin but he noticed it anyway. His hands stilled for that minuscule moment before working again.

‘There,’ he promised in a lethal whisper. ‘All fixed.’

But he was still there—too close, too tall, too everything. She stood with her eyes tight shut, totally aware of him.

‘You’re good to go.’

Good. She didn’t feel like being good. And she didn’t want to go.

She opened her eyes and saw what she’d already felt with every other sense. He was close enough to kiss.

She shook her head very slightly, not wanting to break this spell. ‘It was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have come.’

She hadn’t meant to tell him anything more but the secret simply fell from her lips.

‘But you’ve gone to such trouble.’ He traced one of the swirls of glitter she’d painted on her shoulder. His finger roved north, painting another that rose up her neck, near her frantically beating pulse, and rested there.

‘You shouldn’t miss out.’ He didn’t break eye contact as he neared, but he didn’t close the half-inch between their mouths.

She had to miss out. That was her destiny—the rules set before she was even born. Yet his gaze mesmerised, making her want all kinds of impossible things. Beneath those thick lashes the intensity of his truly blue eyes burned through to her core.

‘You’d better get back out there, Blue.’ He suddenly broke the taut silence and dropped his hand. His voice roughened, almost as if he were angry.

‘Why?’ Why should she? When what she wanted was right here? Just one more kiss? Just once? Hot fury speared—the fierce emotion striking all sense from her. ‘Maybe I can...’ she muttered, gazing into his eyes.

‘Can what?’ he challenged, arching an eyebrow. ‘What can you do...?’

She tilted her chin and reached up on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. Sensation shivered through her. This was right. This was it.

He stiffened, then took complete control. He gripped her waist and hauled her close, slamming her body into his. She felt the give of her stupid dress again. She didn’t mind the half-laugh that heated her.

‘You can do that,’ he muttered, a heated tease as he kissed her with those torturous light kisses until she moaned in frustration. ‘You can do that all you like.’

She did like. She liked it a lot.

Kisses. Nothing wrong with kisses. Her bodice fluttered down again, exposing her to him. Thank goodness. His hands took advantage, then his mouth. The drive for more overwhelmed her. Never had she felt so alive. Or so good.

She gasped when he lifted her, but she didn’t resist, didn’t complain. He strode a couple of paces to sit on the sofa, crushing her close then settling her astride his lap.

She shivered in delight as he kissed her again. She could die in these kisses. She met every one, mimicking, learning, becoming braver. Becoming unbearably aroused. Breathless, she lost all sense of time—could only succumb to the sensation as his hand swept down her body, down her legs. Slowly he drew up the hem of her dress. His fingertips stroked up her hot skin until he neared that most private part of her. She shivered and he lifted his head, looking deep into her eyes. She knew he was seeking permission. She wriggled ever so slightly to let him have greater access because this felt too good to stop. Still watching her, he slid his hand higher.

‘Kiss me again,’ she whispered.

Something flared in his eyes. And kiss her he did, but not on her mouth. He bent lower, drawing her nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth while at the same time his fingertips erotically teased over the crotch of her panties.

Eleni gasped and writhed—seeking both respite from the torment, and more of it. No one had touched her so intimately. And, heaven have mercy, she liked it.

She caught a glimpse of the reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. She didn’t recognise the woman with that man bending to her bared breasts. This was one stranger doing deliciously naughty things with another stranger—kissing and rubbing and touching and sliding. Beneath her, his hard length pressed against his suit pants. It fascinated her. The devilish ache to explore him more overtook her. She rocked against his hand, shivering with forbidden delight. She was so close to something, but she was cautious. He pulled back for a second and studied her expression. She clenched her jaw. She didn’t want him to stop.

‘Take what you want,’ he urged softly. ‘Whatever you want.’

‘I...’

‘Anything,’ he muttered. ‘As much or as little as you like.’

Because he wanted this too. She felt the tremble in his fingers and it gave her confidence. Somehow she knew he was as taken aback as she by this conflagration. She might not have the experience, but she had the intuition to understand this was physical passion at its strongest.

Her legs quivered but she let him slide the satin skirt of her dress higher. It glided all the way up to her waist, exposing her almost completely. Her legs were bared, her chest, only her middle was covered in a swathe of blue. She sighed helplessly as that hard ridge of him pressed where she was aching most.

She struggled to unfasten his shirt buttons; she wanted to see his skin. To feel it. He helped her, pulling the halves of his shirt apart. For a moment she just stared. She’d known he was strong, she’d felt that. But the definition of his tense muscles—the pecs, the abs—still took her by surprise. The light scattering of hair added to the perfection. He was the ultimate specimen of masculinity. She raised her gaze, meeting the fire in his, and understood the strength he was holding in check.

‘Touch all you like,’ he muttered, a guttural command.

She liked it all. Suddenly stupidly nervous, she pressed her palm over his chest—feeling the hardness and heat of him. But she could feel the thump of his heart too and somehow that grounded her. She read the desire in his eyes, intuitively understanding how leashed his passion was. That he, like she, wanted it all.

‘Touch me,’ she choked. Her command—and his reply—dislodged the last brick in the wall that had been damming her desire inside. She did not want him to hold back with her.

He caressed her breasts with his hands, teasing her as she rocked on him, rubbing in the way the basic instinct of her body dictated—back and forth and around.

‘So good,’ she muttered, savouring the pressure of his mouth, the sweep of his hands, the hardness of him under her. ‘So good.’

It was so foreign. So delicious. Feverish with desire, she arched. Pleasure beyond imagination engulfed her as faster they moved together. Kisses became ravenous. Hands swept hard over skin. Heat consumed her. She moaned, her head falling back as he touched her in places she’d never been touched. As he brought her sensuality to life.

She heard a tearing sound and realised it had been the crotch of her panties. They’d not survived the strength of his grip. She glanced and saw he’d tossed the remnants of white silk and lace onto the wide seat. Now she could feel his hand touching her again so much more intimately.

‘Oh.’

She dragged in a searing breath and gazed into his eyes.

‘That’s it, Blue,’ he enticed her in that devilish whisper. ‘Come on.’

She couldn’t answer—not as his fingers circled, and slipped along the slick cleft of her sex, not as they teased that sensitive nub over and over and over. She bit her lip as that searing tension deep in her belly tightened. She rocked, her rhythm matching the pace of his fingers as they strummed over and around her. He kissed her, his tongue soothing the indent of her teeth on her lip, then stroking inside her mouth in an intimate exploration of her private space. Just as his finger probed within her too.

She tore her mouth from his and threw her head back, arching in agony as she gasped for breath. He fixed his mouth on her breast, drawing her nipple in deep. Pleasure shot from one sensitive point to another, rolling in violent waves across her body. She shuddered in exquisite agony, crying out as she was completely lost to this raw, writhing bliss.

When she opened her eyes she saw he was watching her, his hand gently stroking her thigh.

She breathed out, summoning calm and failing. Giddy, she gazed at him, stunned by the realisation that she’d just had an orgasm. She’d let him touch her and kiss her and he’d made the most amazing feelings flood through her. But the hunger had returned already and brought that special kind of anger with it.

That emptiness blossomed, bigger than before. There was more to this electricity between them. More that she’d missed. More that she wanted.

A chasm stretched before her. A choice. A line that, once crossed, could never be reclaimed. But it was her choice. And suddenly she knew exactly how she wanted this one thing in her life to be. Within her control.

For this first time—for only this time—she wanted physical intimacy with a man who truly wanted her back. A man who wanted not her title, not her purity or connections. Just her—naked and no one special. This man knew nothing of who or what she was, but he wanted her. This was not love, no. But pure, basic, brilliant lust.

Just this once, she would be wanted for nothing but herself.

Almost angrily she shifted on him, pressing close again, kissing him. He kissed her back, as hard, as passionate. She moaned in his mouth. Willing him to take over. But he drew back, pressing his hand over hers, stopping her from sliding her palm down his chiselled chest to his belt.

‘We’re going to be in trouble in a second,’ he groaned. ‘Stop.’

She stared dazedly into his face as he eased her back along his thighs, almost crying at his rejection.

‘I need to keep you safe,’ he muttered as his hands worked quickly to release his zipper. ‘One second. To be safe.’

She couldn’t compute his comment because at that moment his erection sprang free. Never had she seen a man naked. Never had she touched. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small packet that he tore open with his teeth. Her mouth dried as she stared avidly.

Of course he was prepared. He was an incredibly handsome, virile man who knew exactly how to turn her on because he was experienced. He was used to this kind of anonymous tryst and he definitely knew how to make a woman feel good. And that was...okay.

As she tore her gaze away from the magnificence of him she caught sight of their reflections in that gleaming mirror again. The image of those two strangers—half naked and entwined—was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. Their pasts didn’t matter. Nor did their futures. There was only this. Only them. Only now. She turned back to look at the overwhelming man she was sitting astride with such vulnerability—and with such desire.

Princess Eleni always did the right thing.

But she wasn’t Princess Eleni tonight. She was no one and this was nothing.

‘Easy, Blue.’ He gently stroked her arm.

She realised her breathing was completely audible—rushed and short.

‘Just whatever you want,’ he muttered softly.

He wasn’t just inviting her. He was giving her the choice, all the control. Yet his voice and his body both commanded and compelled her own and there was no choice.

This once. This one time. She wanted everything—all of him. She shimmied closer. The sight of his huge straining erection made her quiver and melt. She didn’t know how to do this. She looked into his eyes and was lost in that intensity. And suddenly she understood.

She kissed him. Kissed him long and deep and softened in the delight. In the rightness of the sensation. She could feel him there beneath her. She rocked her hips, as she’d done before, feeling him slide through her feminine folds. His hands gripped her hips, holding her, helping her. She pressed down, right on that angle, every sense on high alert and anticipation. But her body resisted, unyielding.

She wanted this.

So she pushed down hard. Unexpectedly sharp pain pierced the heated fog of desire.

‘Blue?’ A burning statue beneath her; his breathing was ragged as he swore. ‘I’ve—’

‘I’m fine,’ she pleaded, willing her body to welcome his.

‘You’re tight,’ he said between gritted teeth.

‘You’re big.’

He filled her completely—beneath her, about her, within her. The force and fire of his personality scalded her. Her breath shuddered as she was locked in his embrace, and in the intense heat of his gaze.

‘Have I hurt you?’ His question came clipped.

‘No.’ It wasn’t regret that burned within her, but recognition. This was what she wanted. ‘Kiss me.’

And he did. He kissed her into that pure state of bliss once more. Into heat and light and sparkling rainbows and all kinds of magic that were miraculous and new. Touching him ignited her and she moved restlessly, eager to feel him touching her again too. That fullness between her legs eased. Honeyed heat bloomed and she slid closer still to him. She sighed, unable to remain still any more. His arms tightened around her, clasping her to him as he kissed her back—exactly how she needed. Yes. This was so good, it had to be right. He shifted her, sliding her back, and then down hard on the thick column of his manhood.

He suddenly stood, taking her weight with no apparent difficulty. Startled, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He kissed her in approval and took those few paces to where that narrow table stretched along the wall. He stood at the short end and carefully placed her right on the edge of it, then slowly he eased her so she lay on her back on the cool wood. Her legs were wound around his waist, her hips tilted upwards as he braced over her, his shaft still driven to the hilt inside her. That mirror was right beside her now but she didn’t turn her head to look again at those strangers; she couldn’t. Her wicked rake claimed every ounce of her focus.

‘This is madness,’ he muttered. ‘But I don’t care.’

Nor did she. This moment was too perfect. Too precious. Too much to be denied.

His large hands cupped her, holding her as he pressed into her deeply, and then pulled back a fraction, only to push forward again. Again, then again, then again. Every time he seemed to drive deeper, claiming more and more of her. And she gave it to him. She would give him everything, he made her feel so good. He gazed into her eyes and in his she saw the echo of her own emotions—wonder, pleasure, need.

She’d never been as close to another person in all her life. Not so passionately, nakedly close. Nor so vulnerable, or so safe. Never so free.

She kissed him in arousal, in madness, in gratitude. Trusting him implicitly. He’d already proven his desire to please her.

‘Come again,’ he coaxed in a passionate whisper. ‘I want to feel you come.’

She wanted that too. She wanted exactly that.

He touched her just above the point where they were joined, teasing even as he filled her. She gasped as she felt the sensations inside gather once more in that unstoppable storm.

‘You...please...’ she begged incoherently as she feverishly clutched him, digging her fingernails into his flesh. She wanted him to feel the same ecstasy surging through her. She needed him on this ride with her. As she frantically arched to meet him she heard his groan. His hands gripped tighter, his expression tensed. She smiled in that final second. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to revel in it and she never, ever wanted it to end.

His face flushed as sensation swept the final vestige of control from his grasp. Pleasure stormed through her again, surging to the farthest reaches of her body. She sobbed in the onslaught of goodness and delight and his roar of satisfaction was the coda to her completeness.

Her eyes were closed. She could hear only the beating of her heart and his as they recovered. She was pinned by his weight and it was the best feeling on earth.

But then laughter rang out. Not hers. Nor his.

‘What’s in this room?’

Eleni snapped her head to stare at the door as someone on the other side tried the handle.

‘Hello?’

More laughter reverberated through the wood.

Reality returned in a violent slam, evaporating the mist of delight. Suddenly she saw herself as she’d look to anyone who burst through that door—Princess Eleni of Palisades, ninety per cent naked, sprawled on a table with her legs around the waist of some stranger and his body ploughed deep into hers.

Sordid headlines smashed into her head: shameless wanton...a one-night stand...the eve of her engagement... There would be no mercy, no privacy—only scorn and shame. She had to get out of here. Aghast, she stared up at the handsome stranger she’d just ravished. What had she done?

* * *

Damon watched his masked lover’s eyes widen in shock. Beneath the blue sparkled powder, her skin paled and her kiss-crushed lips parted in a silent gasp. This was more than embarrassment. This was fear. He was so stunned by her devastated expression he stepped back. She slipped down from the table and tugged at her crumpled clothing. Before he could speak someone knocked on the door again. More voices sounded out in the corridor.

Her pallor worsened.

‘I’ll get rid of them,’ he assured her, hauling up his trousers so he could get to the door and deny anyone entrance to the room. He was determined to wipe that terror from her face.

He pressed a hand on the door. Even though he’d locked it, he couldn’t be sure someone wouldn’t be able to unlock it from the other side. He listened intently, hoping the revellers would pass and go exploring elsewhere. After a few moments the voices faded.

He turned back to see how she was doing, but she’d vanished. Shocked, he stared around the empty room, then stalked back to where she’d been standing seconds ago. Only now did he register the other door tucked to the side of that large mirror. There were two entrances to this room and he’d been so caught up in her he’d not even noticed.

He tried the handle but it was locked. So how had she got through it? Keenly he searched and spotted a discreet security screen. Had she known the code to get out? She must have. Because in the space of two seconds, she’d fled.

Just who was she? Why so afraid of someone finding her? Foreboding filled him. He didn’t trust women. He didn’t trust anyone.

If only he’d peeled off that mask and seen her face properly. How could he have made such a reckless, risky decision?

Anger simmered, but voices sounded outside the other door again, forcing him to move. He glanced in the mirror at his passion-swept reflection. Frowning, he swiftly buttoned his shirt and fixed his trousers properly. Thank heavens he’d retained enough sense to use protection. But as he sorted himself out he realised something he’d missed in his haste to ensure that door was secure. The damn condom was torn. And more than that? It was marked with a trace of something that shouldn’t have been there. He remembered when she’d first pushed down on him. When she’d inhaled sharply and tears had sprung to her eyes.

Uncertainty. Pain.

Grimly he fastened his belt. He’d been too lost to lust to absorb the implications of her reaction. Now his gut tensed as he struggled to believe the evidence. Had she given him her virginity? Had she truly never had another lover and yet let him, a total stranger, have her in a ten-minute tryst in a private powder room?

Impossible. But the stain of her purity was on his skin. His pulse thundered in his ears. Why would she have done something so wild? What was her motivation?

Hell, what had he been thinking? To have had sex with a woman he’d barely met as fast and as furiously as possible? Almost in public?

But her expressive response had swept all sensible thought from his head. She’d wanted him and heaven knew he’d wanted her. He was appalled by his recklessness; his anger roared. But a twist of Machiavellian satisfaction brewed beneath, because he was going to have to find her. He was going to have to warn her about the condom. The instinct to hunt her pressed like the blade of a knife. She owed him answers.

Find her. Find her. Find her.

His pulse banged like a pagan’s drum, marching him back to the busy ballroom. He even took to the balcony to scan the braying crowd, determined to find that blue hair and swan-like neck. But he knew it was futile. The midnight hour had struck and that sizzling Cinderella had run away, never wanting to be seen again.

Least of all by him.