When he felt her giving herself over to an orgasm, he joined her with one last powerful thrust. He kissed her gently as they both came back to earth slowly.
Reluctantly, he lowered her back to her feet and disposed of the condom before returning to her side. Her clothing fell back into place. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. “You have good taste in dresses.”
“Thank you.” She melted back against him. “I still think you’re an asshole.”
He chuckled. “We’ll see if you’re still saying that by morning.” He kissed his way across her shoulder while unfastening the back of her dress. She stepped out of it, and he turned her, appreciating every curve the tiny satin outfit clung to, as well as those it revealed. “I like the idea of getting to know the many layers of you.”
Her hand sought his cock and encircled it. “As opposed to stripping right down and putting yourself out there.”
“I’m not as complicated as you are.” Remembering what they were talking about had become nearly impossible as soon as she’d touched him. “This is who I am.”
She brought her other hand around to caress his balls while she rubbed her beautiful tits, still covered with satin, across his chest. “Too bad, I was hoping there was more.”
He gripped her ass roughly. “What else do you need?”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll settle for a night of good sex.”
If all his blood hadn’t been pouring back into his cock, he might have known what to say to that, but he was already finding it difficult to concentrate on anything beyond having her again. He picked her up, carried to the bed, and this time rolled onto it with her.
They made love again, and it was every bit as good as the first time. He stripped her bare for their last, leisurely romp. By the time she fell asleep in his arms, they were both sexually sated, and he knew every inch of her body. What he didn’t know was what more she’d expect from him—and it bothered him enough to keep him awake.
He tucked her to him beneath the blankets and frowned at her as she slept. Now that his head was clear, he replayed his arrival home and didn’t like the way it had gone. She didn’t know he’d been as angry with himself as he’d been with his men. He wasn’t a man who failed, and he’d already failed to protect her. He’d left her unprotected and vulnerable to whoever had hired Petek. It didn’t matter that he’d had no reason to believe she was in danger. Magnus knew how to protect what was his—and she was. She had been since their first kiss.
In the darkness, her gown formed a lump on the floor. He remembered how beautiful she’d looked on the stairs. She’d wanted to be beautiful for him, and she had been.
Had everything else been her idea as well? Was his rejection of it what had disappointed her? Without knowing the nature of his day, she wouldn’t have understood his reaction.
He was not a man who spent much time worrying about what those around him felt, but the idea of hurting the woman in his arms didn’t sit well with him. He rolled over and, despite that it was one in the morning, texted Phillip to order Benito to return.
Did he leave something? Phillip texted back.
No. I have changed my mind. Arrange for flowers, candles, music. Everything that was planned earlier. Use only trusted people.
It will take time. I had the flowers given away in town.
You have an hour.
Rachelle shifted against him, cuddling more closely to his side, and he dropped the phone. Phillip would make it happen. “Are you sleeping?” he asked.
“Are my eyes closed?” she asked with groggy sarcasm.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said.”
She opened one eye, then shut it. “Any chance we can talk about this in the morning?”
“I’m awake now.”
“Yes, you are. I, however, am not.”
“Then you are remarkable at maintaining discourse while sleeping.”
Her eyes opened then. “Fine. What did I say that you actually heard?”
“That I was not thinking about you when I canceled what you had planned for me. I was still preoccupied with my meeting. You and I will shower, get dressed once again, and go have the dance you wanted earlier. As well as whatever else you arranged.”
“I’m sure everyone is gone.”
“They are on their way back.”
She rolled over to check the clock beside the bed. “At this time of night?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that? No one is even upset that you essentially threw them out?”
“They would not dare to be.”
“Of course not, because of who you are. You don’t think that makes you a dick?”
“Do you not want them to return?”
She sat up, and he was momentarily distracted by the bounce of her bare breasts. “No, I do not want them to return. That whole dance thing was stupid. I shouldn’t have been angry with you last night. That’s just who you are. It’s not like you’ve tried to hide it. You’ve been blunt about what you want from me. My mistake was letting Zinnia get into my head.”
“I don’t understand.”
She gave him a long, sad look. “I know.”
He sat up. “Get up. As you said, it’s late. We don’t want to make everyone wait too long for us.”
“I just said I don’t want them to come back. I’m tired. I’m going back to sleep.” She lay back down and rolled away from him. If she truly wanted him to feel anything resembling remorse, she shouldn’t wag her sweet ass at him.
He picked her up and carried her to the shower. “I don’t require a woman to translate this for me. You’re upset that I didn’t dance with you, and you will continue to be upset until we do. So we shall dance.”
He deposited her in the shower and turned the water on—full blast.
She shrieked and jumped away from him in the stall. “Are you crazy? That’s freezing.”
He laughed and shielded her from the water until it warmed, then pulled her toward him. “Now, you’re awake.” He wiggled an eyebrow in challenge.
She threw a facecloth at him. “Jerk.”
“Still upset?” He placed his hand flat on her chest and pushed her back against the wall of the shower. “Luckily I know how to sweeten your mood.” He dropped to his knees, lifted one of her legs, and swung it over his shoulder, then sought her nub with his tongue.
She gripped the back of his head with one hand, steadying herself with her other. “Oh yes. Oh, God, yes.”
Sometimes the best way to talk to a woman did not involve talking at all.
Chapter Twenty
The embarrassment Rachelle felt when she walked down the main staircase fully dressed in an evening gown at three o’clock in the morning faded as soon as they reached the foyer. Whether it was the glow from more orgasms than she’d ever had in one night or the warmth of the candlelight the house and grounds were bathed in, Rachelle felt as if she were stepping into a dream. There were flowers everywhere, not the same as before, but just as beautiful. If his staff felt inconvenienced at all, they hid it well.
Magnus led her out onto the lawn where the band Zinnia had introduced Rachelle to in town was now playing soft music. She waved to Benito and mouthed, Thank you.
Benito smiled and nodded.
As they reached the dance floor, Magnus expertly spun her and began to lead her in a polished waltz. She recognized the tune only because she’d attended dance lessons with Alisha leading up to her wedding. Brett had also gone, but Alisha had said she wanted to keep it fun, and having her best friend there accomplished that. Strange how it took traveling so far away to appreciate all the ways she and Alisha had remained close despite how much had changed.
Magnus spun her again, and her attention returned to him. “I thought you said you couldn’t dance.”
“I said I don’t, not that I couldn’t.”
“Then why are we doing this?”
He pulled her closer. “Because you wanted to.�
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She tipped her head back to see his expression. “And that matters to you?”
“We are dancing, aren’t we?”
She glanced around. “You don’t feel guilty at all about everyone who had to make this happen twice? They might be smiling, but I bet they all wish they were sleeping.”
He spun her around again. “I have given up many nights of sleep to ensure these same people have what they need. I would take a bullet for them, as they would for me. My life is dedicated to them, just as theirs are to me.”
“That’s actually beautiful.” And a level of commitment outside of Rachelle’s experience—at least when it came to men. Did he carry that sentiment over into his relationships? “Have you ever been in love?”
“No,” he said confidently enough that her heart cringed.
Well, that clears up any misconception I might have that he’s falling for me. She tensed in his arms. “I don’t want to meet more of your family or your so-close-they’re-like-family friends.” He effortlessly swung her around again, and she matched his steps naturally. Here, as well as in bed, they fit. It was just every time he opened his mouth that she wondered what the hell she was doing.
“Why are you upset with me now, little Rachelle?” He didn’t look particularly concerned by the possibility.
But since he asked . . . “I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself. I’m okay with this being temporary, but I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to get confused.”
“Temporary.” He repeated the word as if mulling it. “It doesn’t have to be. You’re the first woman I’ve considered marrying.”
“M-marrying?” She tripped over his foot and stumbled against his chest. Does that mean he—? Didn’t he just say he’d never been in—? “We barely know each other.”
He leaned down and murmured in her ear, “I wouldn’t say that after last night.”
Her heart went into a wild panic in her chest. “Marriage is more than that. You don’t know anything about me, really. Not even my favorite food.”
“That information would be best given to whichever chef we employ.”
“Or my interests. Or what I want to do with the rest of my life.”
“The rest of your life would be here in Vandorra. Your interests would be me, our family, and our people.”
She froze. “And what would your interests be?”
“That depends on how well you continue to please me in bed.”
She shoved at him. Of course he didn’t move. He was an irritatingly strong wall of muscle. “Of all the egotistical . . . sexist . . .”
He roared with laughter and pulled her flush against his chest. “It was a joke. You’re so easy to rile. Smile, little Rachelle. It’s not every day you receive a proposal from a prince, is it?”
She snorted. “That was not a proposal. At least not one I’d ever say yes to.”
His hold on her tightened. “I have never met a more contrary woman.”
She held his gaze. Holding out against the fire in them took effort. On a purely primal level, she wanted to be his, but not on his terms. “What a relief it must be, then, that my answer is no.”
His expression darkened. “I retract my proposal.”
“Too late. It’s already out there and has already been declined.”
He frowned a moment longer; then his humor returned. “How did I miss it? You were joking. Touché, little Rachelle.”
Is this what Cinderella had to work with?
What had he said? “Rein me in.”
He needs someone who can, but is that me? He started to dance again, and she easily fell into step with him. She thought about how poorly her family communicated with one another. If her father had been open about the fact that his father had killed himself, would his marriage have survived? If her mother had been open about her affair and about who Spencer’s real father was, would their family have healed instead of growing further apart? Was what a person hid more destructive than what they shared? One quality she admired about Magnus was that he said what he thought.
“This is who I am,” he’d said.
And I have never been more myself than when I’m with him.
As they spun around the dance floor, Rachelle asked herself why, despite how he drove her crazy, she couldn’t imagine returning home and going on a date with anyone else. “Make me yours as much as I will make you mine.” He’d issued that challenge to her.
I don’t know how to, but my gut tells me it doesn’t happen by agreeing to a proposal that doesn’t include love. “Magnus, don’t you think love should be a prerequisite to proposing to anyone?”
“Love is a weak base to build a marriage on.”
“You’re wrong. It’s the only base strong enough to sustain a marriage.”
“Did your parents love each other?”
His question cut deeply. “Yes.”
“My parents married before love came to them. What they had was commitment to each other and to our country.”
“I’m not your mother, Magnus.” As she said it, she realized something else as well. “I’m not mine, either. I want it all—the love, the promise, and the forever after. If I find that, I’ll fight for it, but I wouldn’t marry for less.”
They danced for several moments without speaking. There was a beauty and a sadness to the way they connected without truly connecting.
“I’m not looking for my mother. Nor am I interested in one like yours. You are the first woman I can imagine ruling beside me. If love is what you require, we’ll find it first.”
Find it? She chuckled, half convinced he was joking again. “That’s not how love works.”
He stopped then and kissed her as if she already belonged to him, was already a part of him. Lust and longing swept through her until there was nothing beyond him. When he raised his head, they were both breathing raggedly.
Breathlessly, she said, “But we could give it a try.”
Around noontime, Magnus woke to the satisfying feeling of a once-again-naked Rachelle cuddled to his side. Although he’d had many relationships in his life, he hadn’t encouraged any of those women to spend the night in his bed. Normally he preferred to wake alone, but Rachelle had turned that on its head. She was where she belonged.
He grimaced as he remembered his proposal. By nature he wasn’t an impulsive man, and he’d taken even himself by surprise with his talk of marriage. Their marathon of lovemaking must have softened his brain. He was lucky she’d turned him down.
Even though he didn’t feel lucky.
Logically, he knew it didn’t make sense to move forward with Rachelle before the issue with her grandmother was resolved. He didn’t believe she was involved, but there were still too many unknowns to be certain. He had a high success rate when it came to setting and achieving goals, because he gathered facts before he acted. There were fewer surprises that way. In his experience the unexpected was never good.
Except in the case of Rachelle. Nothing about her or what she brought into his life was predictable, and yet he couldn’t imagine waking up the next day without her in his bed. Was that the love she sought?
Many women would not have turned him down, regardless of how he’d phrased it. She expected more from him. Her happiness was already important to him. He enjoyed making her smile and could easily imagine raising children with her. Infidelity would never be a problem, since Magnus did not make a vow he was not prepared to honor.
She wants all that, and love, too. Not just any kind of love, but the romantic Americanized version of it. Am I capable of that?
Would I be happy with any less from her?
It was a question he hadn’t thought to ask himself until just that moment. He turned and studied her peaceful expression as she slept. He didn’t want her to agree to be with him out of convenience or because he was the best fuck she’d ever had. He wanted her heart as well as her body.
Without waking her, he gave her temple a gentle kiss. I understand now.
I will propose to you again, little Rachelle, but not until I can say the three words you will soon proclaim to me.
Her eyes opened slowly. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Should I respond with something romantic?”
She smiled. “You could try.”
He lightly slapped her rump beneath the bedsheets. “Perhaps I would do better with some instruction. What does an American man say after a night of good sex?”
“Are you still here?” she joked dryly.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Men are the same everywhere.”
“Sadly, yes,” she said with a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.
He rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him as he went. “Give me a day to recuperate and I will remind you of our differences as well.”
She kissed him. “What makes you think I’ll give you the chance to?”
“This,” he said, kissing her back, deeper and slower. When the kiss ended, her cheeks had flushed beautifully. “My bed is your bed from now on.”
She cocked her head to one side as she looked down at him. “Some men might phrase that as a question.”
He dug his hands into her hair and brought her lips to his again, this time for a possessive kiss. Nothing separated her skin from his, so he felt how his words affected her. Her body, although well loved, tightened with excitement. He shifted beneath her so his quickly hardening cock was cupped by her wet sex. “Other men do not matter to me, and they will no longer matter to you.” Before she had a chance to respond, he angled his pelvis back so his tip parted her folds. “You’re mine, Rachelle.”
She brought her lips back to his, opening her mouth to him, her body to him again. He was hard and ready. She took him deep inside her, then arched so her breasts danced before his mouth. He worshipped them with his tongue and teeth while she moved up and down on his cock. He loved the moment his independent woman followed her own pleasure and sat up. She steadied herself by holding his outstretched hands and ground herself against him, taking him deeper and deeper. His pleasure this time was found in the pleasure she brought herself. She came before he did and then sagged with a pleased smile. He rolled her gently beneath him and found his orgasm in the sweet warmth of hers.
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