Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals) (11 page)

Dear God, but she was beautiful.
 

She arched against him, then reached to her side, pressing one palm into the padded headboard for leverage as the fingers of her other hand dug into his back, driving him on.
 
He fought for purchase as they moved in rhythm.
 
Sensing his need, Kelly wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, holding him fast, encouraging him to take what he needed.
 
Their movements were old as time, as inherent to their species as breathing.
 
But it had never, ever been quite like this.
 
This was holy grail sex.

One-night stands weren’t supposed to be holy grail sex.

Then again, he’d never had a one-night stand.

He drove harder, as if the fire building in his core would slip away.
 
The room shifted below him.
 
Kelly’s stunned eyes met his and a surprised squeak escaped her as the mattress slid sideways off the box spring and they careened headfirst over the side of the bed.
 

They landed atop the mattress with a
whump
.
 

Somehow, Massimo managed to stay buried within her.
 
After a heartbeat of silence, laughter erupted from deep within her, shaking her entire torso.

“You okay?” she managed.
 
Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath.
 
For what she’d paid for the villa, it really should have a better bed.

“Are
you?
 
I just landed on you.”
 

“I’m perfectly fine.
 
Actually…that felt pretty damned good.”
 

“No.”
 

“Yes.”
 
She raised her head to plant an erotic kiss on his mouth at the same time she flexed around him.
 
“In fact, I might call it out of the ordinary.”

He smiled down at her, marveling at how a simple afternoon escape on his fishing boat turned into such a memorable evening.
 
“You” —he traced her cheek, then paused with a finger to her lips— “seem to have a way of pushing a man to do extraordinary things.”
 

Wickedness lit her eyes.
 
She grabbed his finger and moved it aside.
 
“Pushing.
 
Really?
 
That’s
the word you choose?”

He responded by doing exactly that.
 
Within seconds, any hint of humor faded.
 
Her thighs tightened around his waist as he trapped her knee against him with his arm, holding her fast while he moved within her, then bent his head to touch his tongue to the sweet column of her neck.
 
She lifted her hips, encouraging him to resume their rhythm.
 
He heard himself moan, felt Kelly’s knuckles grind against his lower back.
 
Urgency drove him harder.
 
He smacked into her while she rose to meet him.

In an attempt to slow himself down, he lowered his forehead to hers, then grabbed her hand with his, interlacing their fingers.
 
The motion had the opposite effect.
 
Rather than slowing him down, suddenly, their connection felt more intimate.
 

They squeezed each other’s hands at the same time.
 
His eyes drifted shut.
 
He pressed his lips to her hair, relished the choked sound of her labored breathing as they both teetered on the edge.

He wanted so much more than a quick release.

“Massimo, please, Massimo,” she pleaded, then a moment later she convulsed around him.
 
But he continued to fly, his mind whirling as he approached his own climax.
 
He knew he was out of control.
 
He didn’t care.
 
A second wave gripped her and she let out the most carnal, intimate sound he’d ever heard, one that sent him spilling into her and gasping for breath as he responded with a deep moan of his own.
 
Dizzying, explosive pleasure throbbed through him before he finally collapsed on top of her, spent and deeply satisfied.
 
The very surface of his skin seemed to vibrate.

Best.
 
Damned.
 
Sex.
 
Of.
 
My.
 
Life
.

His face crushed into the mattress near her shoulder, but no energy remained with which to lift his head.
 
It didn’t matter.
 
He had nowhere to go.
 
Kelly’s legs remained wrapped around him, holding him in place as her chest rose and fell with the effort to recapture her breath.
 
One of her arms sprawled across his back.
 
His skin was so sensitized he felt everything at once: the scratch of her thin silver bracelet across the skin of his back, her toes resting against his calf, the brush of her taut nipples against his chest.
 
The bunched fabric of her sundress, which remained twisted around her waist despite the physicality of what they’d just done.
 
And still, it wasn’t enough.
 
He wanted more.

He could hardly wait to do it again.
 

This time, they’d make love slowly, passionately, and perhaps without taxing his control or his lung power so thoroughly.
 
How was it that sex with Kelly drew on his aerobic capacity more than a ten-mile jungle hike with a full pack on his back?

Maybe, he mused, because he’d put in more effort given the rewards.

Finally, he turned his head enough to see Kelly’s expression.
 
Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and her hair splayed across the mattress above her head as if she were asleep, yet he sensed her alertness before he shifted to unhook a strand of auburn hair from where it had tangled in one of her silver hoop earrings.

“You Sarcaccian men really know how to flirt,” she said without opening her eyes.
 
“I’m impressed.”

“Not all Sarcaccian men.”

“Thought you didn’t know about other Sarcaccian men.”
 
Her fingers moved across his back, her nails tracing a line just below where she’d discovered his scars.
 
“But I’ll take your word for it.
 
Tourism would go through the roof if all Sarcaccian men were so talented.”

Her winded statement made him realize he hadn’t moved off her.
 
He pushed to his elbows, separating their bodies as quickly as possible.
   

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m crushing you.”
 

“You’re not.”
 
She pulled him toward her, but he braced his forearms on either side of her, preventing it.
 
“I like feeling you against me.”

“You won’t be able to breathe.”
 
He had to be nearly double her weight.

She frowned, then opened her eyes and put her hand between them, over her breast.
 
“Feel my heart beat here.”
 
She moved her hand higher, to the juncture where her throat met her collarbone.
 
“Feel it here.
 
I’m breathing just fine.
 
Faster than usual, but I suspect there’s an explanation for that.”

He eased off his forearms, slowly allowing his weight to settle.
 
He put one hand between them, over her heart, where she’d placed her hand a moment before.
 
The beat was rapid, but steady.
 
Instantly, her arms wrapped tight around him.
 
“See?
 
I’m still breathing.
 
You’re not as big as you think you are.”

He laughed into her hair and moved his lower body against hers.
 
“Want to rethink that statement?”

“Give me a reason.”

“Give me a minute.”

“All the time you want.”
 

The comment was said with humor, but desire flickered in her eyes.
 
They lay there, holding each other, allowing their breathing to slow and the sheen of perspiration that covered them both to evaporate.
 
She said nothing, but moved the pads of her fingers along his back in a lazy pattern.
 
As if the scars weren’t there, or at least weren’t consequential.
 
He fought back the sense of awe that filled him.
 
He’d always enjoyed sex, but this…this had been different.
 
Transcending.
 
It wasn’t the fact it’d been so long, much as he’d like to attribute it to that.
 
It was the woman.

Even so, she was an American on vacation.
 
He was a local and nothing more in her mind.
 
Someone she’d met on the beach who’d talked her into dinner and wine.
 
A vacation memory, much like sampling Giulia's secret recipes.

And wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to think?

“This has been spectacular,” he said at last, kissing the top of her head.
 
“And I’m not one to make love and run, but neither will I overstay my welcome if you’d prefer to sleep alone.”

She was quiet so long he wondered if his words bothered her.
 
At long last, she said, “You did tell me that you didn’t plan on sleeping.”
 
As his quiet chuckle, she continued, “So I won’t keep you.
 
But you’re welcome to stay if you’d like.
 
It’s quite comfortable having you here.”
 
She rolled just enough to press a kiss to his cheek.
 

“Comfortable?”
 
He grimaced.
 
“That’s worse than ordinary.”

Despite the mirth in his answer, her eyes were serious as she twisted to meet his gaze.
 
“I meant it in the best sense.
 
In the sense that—for whatever reason—it feels natural having you here.
 
Like I said, I’m not a first-date-sex kind of person, so—”

“I want to stay.”
 
He said it so quietly, so seriously, it surprised even him.
 
But he meant it.
 
He couldn’t imagine leaving now, walking out the front door into the cool night air and leaving her behind.
 
“And for the record, I’m not a first-date-sex kind of person, either.”

“Well, then—”
 

“Oh, shit,” he muttered as another thought entered his head.
 
“We didn’t use any protection.”

How could he be so stupid?
 
Condoms weren’t exactly on the packing list for a solo boat excursion, but how could it not have occurred to him once he and Kelly were tearing at each other’s clothes?
 
Unplanned sex was one thing, unprotected sex another.
 

She sucked in her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.
 
“Oh, geez, I can’t believe…how did I not—”

“Have you, ah,” —how did one word this, precisely?

“I had my yearly physical a couple weeks ago.
 
I’m perfectly healthy.
 
You?”

“Military discharge exam.
 
Last month.”

She exhaled.
 
“And I’m covered as far as pregnancy goes.
 
No worries there.”

He nodded, unsure of the proper response.
 
Hallelujah
didn’t seem right.
 

“Still want to stay?
 
Or did that completely kill the mood?” she asked.
 

He grinned down at her.
 
How did she know the perfect thing to say?
 
He skimmed his hand along her bare shoulder.
 
Kelly was so open, so honest.
 
So unlike any woman he’d met.
 
Every one, even those with wealth and connections of their own, women who could seduce any man they chose, seemed to want something from him.
 
Something more than banter over a romantic dinner on Giulia’s patio.
 
More than a night of passion, more than laughter on a mattress on the floor in the moonlight.
 
It was as if they wanted a piece of his soul without sharing theirs in return.

And that was aside from wanting a piece of the Barrali fortune.

A pang of guilt wound its way through his gut at having kept his identity from her.
 
How ironic that now he wondered if she’d have slept with him if she knew he was one of
those
Barralis, given what she said about “rich and powerful guys.”
 
Or how she liked ordinary.
 
Comfortable.

He hadn’t out and out lied, but he certainly hadn’t told the truth, either.

Does it even matter?

Yes…it did.
 
To him.
 
Even if he never saw her again after tonight, he knew how he’d feel if their roles were reversed.
 

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her.
 
Nor could he bring himself to leave.
 
He wanted her for as long as he could have her, and he’d do his damnedest to ensure she enjoyed herself.