Читать книгу Mr Right All Along - Natalie Anderson - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

‘FORGOT WHAT?’ EDUARDO PRESSED his palms hard on the wall either side of her—imprisoning her, uncaring about impropriety. But it was better than grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. He needed to see she was okay and hear her say it.

Her pale blue eyes widened. Deepened. But she didn’t answer.

His heart thundered a furious tattoo. His muscles coiled as adrenalin streamed through his veins. He’d pounded that damn bathroom door for ages, imagining her to be unconscious and drowning or worse.

Reality was no less of an attack on his system.

Her lithe body was gloriously naked. Droplets of water glistened on every inch of her, as if she’d been dipped in diamonds. Dazzling perfection, her effect on him was akin to sorcery.

He forgot everything. To breathe. To think. To move.

The dazed look in her eyes mesmerised him. When he’d parted her thighs with his and pushed into the heart of her scorching heat she’d looked at him like this.

‘Stella...’ he muttered.

Still wordlessly casting her spell, she stared back up at him, a stormy, mouthwatering mix of softness and strength, all feminine sensuality. He fought back the urge to press his lips to hers.

He’d been unable to forget her energy and demand and passion that day. But afterwards she hadn’t just left. She’d run. The only lover who had. Eduardo was the one to end any liaison—gently but efficiently.

Tendrils of doubt had wormed in after her determined, hasty departure, bringing a hint of unwanted regret. He’d damn well tried to forget, but she’d lurked in the sea of his sleep, calling like a Siren. He envisaged every intimacy, pleasuring her beyond endurance, hearing her, tasting her, claiming her, over and over again. To his extreme annoyance he’d dreamt of her every single night since that day.

Filthy, soul-scorching dreams.

Never had he dreamt of a woman the way he had of her. Yet memory had served him poorly. In reality she was more vibrant, more luminous than any fantasy. The electrifying want within him was intolerable.

‘What did you forget?’ he snapped, whipping his vocal cords into action.

‘What are you doing in here?’ She tilted her chin.

Glimmering energy arced, zinging back and forth between them—desire, shock, anger.

‘Why didn’t you answer me?’ he countered.

‘You didn’t have to break down the door.’ Her cool voice belied the heat in her eyes.

‘You didn’t answer me.’ He measured his breathing, refusing to lose control, but temptation burned, stoked by her icy defiance.

‘I didn’t hear you.’ Sharper. Hotter.

His frown deepened. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He still wanted to know what it was she’d forgotten.

‘You were worried about me?’ Disbelief sparkled in her eyes.

‘Is that such a surprise?’ An hour ago she’d looked pale and scared. She looked neither now. ‘I was bringing you a tray of food.’

‘I didn’t ever imagine you in the role of delivery boy,’ she said.

‘How did you imagine me?’ He smothered his smile of pleasure at her weak attempt to put him in his place.

Her eyes flashed.

‘You can strike better than that,’ he added, in a deliberately provocative whisper.

‘We both know I can. But are you sure you want me to?’ she asked, her voice huskier.

Oh, yes—he wanted. ‘If you’re going to mark me, don’t make it my face. There were too many awkward questions last time.’

She drew in a sharp breath. Good. He’d got to her.

But she stepped up to the mark again. ‘If I hit you now, your soldiers would be here in a second.’

He smiled at her naïveté. ‘They’re under orders not to disturb me. I don’t need anyone’s help to handle you.’

Another flash lit her eyes. Another surge of adrenalin hit him.

‘Handle me?’ she snapped back. ‘Like I’m some dog that needs obedience training?’

She did need training. And it would be her choice of carrot or stick. He smiled at the possible interplay, given her unpredictability.

Having the fine-boned creature of so many dreams finally in front of him, he realised how much he’d thought of her over the last few weeks. How much she intrigued him.

‘Why did you do it?’ Not the question he’d been going to ask. He didn’t want her to know he’d spent so long wondering.

Her lashes lowered, veiling the blue, but she wouldn’t lower her guard. She wouldn’t tell him the truth.

Why the stab of disappointment? Why would he expect otherwise? No one opened up and confided in him. Not even those he cared most about. Especially not them.

In turn, Eduardo knew he couldn’t count on other people unless he paid them very well. That unpalatable truth came with being a prince. Loyalty to royalty was a thing of the past. Most people now were out for what they could get—fame and fortune. Both could be attained via a connection with him. And that was all he really had to offer—palace life, wealth, but no real power. No real purpose.

But riches and recognition were enough reward for some. He’d underestimated that particular hunger before and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Instead he’d ensure that Stella was satisfied. She might not have told anyone about their tryst on the beach that day, but she’d not come to him when she’d realised the consequences either. Who knew what she’d been planning to do?

It no longer mattered. He’d buy both her silence and her obedience.

She’d be happy with the deal—he just needed to get it done before Antonio found out and tried to interfere. As it was, his brother would be highly suspicious of Eduardo’s sudden ‘illness’, which had forced him to cancel all his public engagements for the next few days and withdraw to Secreto Real to recuperate. Eduardo had cancelled only one engagement in his life. The afternoon he’d met Stella.

He’d not gotten a woman pregnant before her either.

‘Why did you do it?’ He wasn’t moving until she answered.

For a long moment there was only silence and steam.

‘Why wouldn’t I want to experience the best that San Felipe has to offer?’

She still didn’t look at him—at least not higher than his chest. Was it just the fantasy she’d wanted? Unrestrained sex in the surf with the playboy Prince?

Disappointment bit harder.

He’d never wanted to be the daredevil spare heir boring cliché. He’d striven to shake it off, initially indulging in the idealistic, ultimately unrealistic ambition of studying law. Then he’d tried the military, only to be thwarted there too.

The lovely Stella’s father had ruled out any possibility of Eduardo actively serving. He’d argued that it would cost too much to protect Eduardo, and any ‘value’ Eduardo might bring to the battalion would be outweighed by the risk to other soldiers’ lives. Securing Eduardo’s presence would take up too much resource.

In short, he wasn’t worth it because his princely title was too precious.

Antonio had sided with the General. In a five-minute, one-sided conversation they’d resigned him to a life of ‘leisure’, reduced to playing tourist in his own country. But, as so many citizens depended on the tourist industry for their economic survival, Eduardo did his very best—as he did in everything. But he did not particularly like General Carlos Zambrano.

As for his daughter...

She’d been absent from the General’s palace apartment for years, else Eduardo would have noticed her flaxen hair and her athletic, curved figure so much sooner. She’d been in New Zealand—schooled there, trained there. Yeah...thanks to his security department he knew all the facts, but the dossier they’d prepared didn’t give the detail he really wanted.

‘Just the once was enough for you?’ he asked.

She flicked the quickest of glances up. ‘As it was for you.’

Eduardo watched as a pink tide flowed over her cheeks, and unexpected emotion glinted before she swiftly lowered her lashes again. Clenching her jaw, she remained silent. Suddenly so determined not to respond.

He drew a soft breath and pushed harder against the shower wall to expend the energy threatening to burst through his skin. Did she doubt that he was still hot for her? Primal satisfaction ignited his fighting spirit. But this beautiful warrior woman did not want to admit her attraction to him.

Why didn’t she want to give in to it again when it would make this nightmare so much more bearable? Their chemistry had been—still was—incredible. He knew to his bones how good it would be when she was exactly where he needed her.

In her white dress, with his ring on her finger, in his bed. Not a minute before.

‘I don’t think once was enough,’ he said softly, unable to resist teasing her.

‘You never date a woman for more than a couple of nights.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Am I not just like all the others?’

There hadn’t been that many others in recent years. Now he was more playful than playboy—lots of flirt, little follow-though. It was safer when he knew how little he could trust.

Now her hint of jealousy fanned the inferno building within him. Sexual intensity almost overpowered him. He tried not to lower his gaze and drink in her bared beauty, but there were those dusky, tight nipples and the rounded breasts, the tight, flat abs, the tempting thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, those dazzling droplets of water all over her.

He wanted to feel her flush against him. He’d have to rip off his saturated shirt and jeans, though, and they were sticking so tight it would take too long, and he needed to feel her now—

‘As you can see—’ she interrupted his derailed thoughts with a voice slathered in sarcasm ‘—I’m perfectly fine. So you don’t need to worry. You can leave now.’

His gaze shot back to hers and his face heated. So caught. But she thought she could order him out...?

Eduardo was used to getting his own way. And he’d get it this time, because he was sure she was feeling this too. On an angry, lust-driven impulse he slowly, deliberately lowered his gaze again, blistering his senses, blatantly looking his fill at her jaw-droppingly gorgeous body.

He watched a trickle of water run from her hair to her skin, down the crest of her breast to her nipple, forming a drop there. His mouth was dry as dust and he craved a lick. Just one. Just one kiss.

His erection strained against his zipper. Lust clamoured a shrill mantra—kiss, kiss, kiss...

She quivered, the merest movement, as he ate her with his eyes, but she remained silent. Defiantly holding her head high.

Along with lust and need, another emotion snaked out from his gut—admiration. Then respect. And then regret.

What was he doing, standing over her like this? Invading her personal space? She was in the shower, for heaven’s sake.

She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, let her nudity be a vulnerability. She was all armour. Even when naked she was stiffened with pride and rebellion and courage.

He wanted her. But more than that he wanted her to come to him—as willing and as tempting as she’d been that day on the beach.

‘Why did you run away afterwards?’ Why hadn’t she come to him to tell him she was pregnant?

Her lips parted, her mouth forming a wordless ‘oh’ while her anger burned brighter, melting into something else. But still she gave no damn answer.

That old disappointment was like salt in a freshly opened wound. But he didn’t move—he’d never been so focused on a woman, never spent so much effort trying to read what he could from the few physical signs she couldn’t help giving away.

Her hands were fisted at her sides. She was expending a lot of energy so as not to move. Just as he was. What didn’t she want to let herself do? Was she, like he, fighting the urge to reach out and touch? Or did she really want to fight, then flee?

On paper she appeared the perfect obedient soldier. Until that afternoon with him she’d not put a foot wrong—never left base without authorisation, never fraternised. No boyfriend. No parties. No fun.

She’d never had sex before either. Which he guessed meant she was not a natural hedonist. Sure, she’d gone full throttle once she’d let herself off the leash, but maybe the intensity had been too much for her?

It almost had been for him. Goosebumps still riddled his skin when he thought of it, and he was used to sex. She wasn’t. Had she been shaken emotionally? Had he hurt her that way? Was she afraid of him?

Suddenly he didn’t want to know any more. He wasn’t a man who could offer emotional support. He’d tried. He’d failed. More than once.

Stella wasn’t the first person not to turn to him in a time of crisis.

‘Eat the food I have brought,’ he growled, pushing away from the shower wall and forcing himself to step away from her.

He ignored the thunderclap of fury from the lust clouding his mind, urging him to stay and press closer. He wanted to make her feel so damn good she wouldn’t be able to stop pleading with him to do it again. But he was going to have to wait a bit longer for that little ego trip. Just till tomorrow.

‘Make yourself presentable,’ he said curtly, picking up one of the large white towels from the gleaming gold rail. ‘I will see you in the library.’

She snatched the towel he rigidly held out and wrapped it around her, hiding her delectable body from his ravenous eyes, leaving him immensely relieved. And viciously frustrated.

Angered with his fixation, he strode away. ‘Be quick.’