As a man used to having anything he wanted, he had to accept that he could never have Angela. Not really. The fate of his country depended on his ability to act, and his grandfather would never approve his marriage to her. Even if he did, she had no desire to live her life in the public eye.
Now he had to tell her their relationship was over. But how could he, when all he wanted to do was get her naked and claim that mouth that haunted him every time they were apart?
19
Angela was in the process of filling up her plate when a male voice with a charming Southern accent said beside her, “I like a woman who has a hearty appetite.”
She swung her gaze to the right and saw a distinguished-looking gentleman with gray hairs at his left temple and an easy-going smile.
“That’s not the best comment to make to someone you just met,” she said.
He chuckled softly. “As soon as the sentence left my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake, but my opinion still stands.” His gaze swept over her. “I’m Sen. Charles Radcliffe, from the great state of South Carolina.”
Angela set down her plate and shook his hand. “Angela Lipscomb. From the great state of Georgia.” She grinned.
“Something tells me you’re not in government.”
“I’m not. I’m a management consultant. I received a special invitation, as a guest of the Zamibian royal family.”
“My, my, you know some people in high places. And a management consultant, you said? Hm, I think I need some managing.” His eyes twinkled at her.
If she were into older men, she could definitely go for this guy. Some women might find him off-putting, but he had a certain charm.
“I consult for companies, not individuals.”
“I have a company,” he said.
“Are you in need of a consultant?”
“I could be. If it meant I got to spend more time with you.”
“Senator Radcliffe, I’m flattered, but I’m not in the habit of picking up men at formal events.”
The smile didn’t leave his face. “Please, call me Charles. I think by the end of the night, you and I are going to know each other much better.”
From that moment on, Angela spent her time in conversation with the senator who, it turned out, really did own a company. She gave him some advice, but they mostly talked about other topics. Eventually, a representative from California joined them and the three migrated to four-chair seating around a small round table.
They resumed chatting, this time about vacation spots. Because she’d done a lot of traveling for work, domestic and international, Angela gave them recommendations for places she’d visited, admitting her affinity for Asia, the cultures, foods, and people.
She was enjoying herself immensely when Senator Radcliffe’s gaze settled over her right shoulder. Without him saying a word, she knew who was on the approach. In a short time, she’d become attuned to his presence, as if they were two parts of a whole, magnetically drawn to each other no matter where they were.
Her body tightened in anticipation.
“Senator Radcliffe, Representative Dow.” The sound of his voice always got her a little excited.
Both politicians stood, extending their hands, and Angela turned to face Andres but remained seated.
“Prince Andres, it’s good to see you.” The three men shook hands before Andres looked down at her.
“And you are…Angela, correct? We met at Prince Kofi of Zamibia’s wedding.” He extended a hand.
What was he doing?
“That’s correct.” Angela stood and shook his hand. His clasp was warm and the handshake firm.
“If I recall, you’re a consultant, aren’t you?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I’m in need of a consultant, as a matter of fact.”
“You are?”
He looked at the other two men. “Gentlemen, do you mind if I borrow her?”
Sen. Radcliffe looked disappointed, but he bowed in acquiescence. “Go right ahead, Prince Andres. Ms. Lipscomb, it was nice to meet you. I hope we’ll have the pleasure of speaking again before you leave.”
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. The representative shook her hand and both men walked away.
“Were you flirting with those men to get under my skin?” Andres asked.
“Maybe a little,” she teased.
“It worked,” he said grimly.
She’d never seen him like this. He’d expressed jealousy before, but he hadn’t cracked a smile at her teasing words.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk to each other or let anyone know that we knew each other,” Angela said.
“Change of plans. Let’s get out of here.” He seemed restless, agitated.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“It’s early. Why so sudden?”
“Because I’m hard from the thought of fucking you and making them watch, and if I have to witness one more man drool over you I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”
She glanced around the room, checking to make sure no one nearby had heard him. In private, there were times when he used raw, unfiltered language, but he’d never spoken to her in public in this way. Those types of conversations were reserved for their times alone.
Like the times he took control in the bedroom.
On your knees.
She swallowed at the recollection of his voice—commanding, guttural. She tasted his salty flavor and relived the weight of him in her mouth. She heard the dirty talk as he gripped her hair and held her in place, his eyes glittering down at her from above.
But this was more than dirty talk. She once again had the distinct impression that he was upset.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, studying him. She couldn’t shake the unease and needed his reassurance.
His expression gave nothing away. “I’m fine. I want you. That’s why you’re here.”
Her breath hitched. The words stung, even more so since they’d expressed their love for each other the last time. Maybe he was still a bit resentful that she’d refused his offer to move to Europe.
“All right,” she said quietly because she couldn’t think of any other answer.
“I’m staying at the Winthrop on Pennsylvania Avenue.” He glanced at his watch, the same Cartier timepiece studded with diamonds that he’d worn the night they met. “I’m leaving now. Go to the valet stand in fifteen minutes. The limo will be waiting for you.”
She nodded, still unsure of his present mood, but she wanted him, too. Later, they could get to the bottom of his foul attitude. Probably something to do with his country. Maybe he’d run into a problem with his environmental plans. He’d confided in her in the past. Perhaps a change of venue would make the difference.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and marched away.
20
“Hello, Ollie,” Angela said to the tall and wiry blond. Despite his small frame, he exuded strength.
“Hello, Ms. Lipscomb.”
The guard helped her from the car, and she followed him to the elevator. They took it to one of the top floors and walked down the quiet hallway to a door where a large man with a thick neck stood guard and only granted them a cursory glance. Ollie knocked twice, but instead of waiting for someone to let them in, he entered and motioned for her to precede him. She walked into the suite, which was similar to the one Andres had rented in Atlanta, with hardwood floors and huge windows that looked out onto the street.
“Prince Andres will be with you shortly,” Ollie said. Then he backed out and closed the door.
Angela walked farther into the room, assessing the interior, decorated with chairs covered in floral and striped prints. Two coffee tables rested between three sofas in the shape of a U, and wooden stands held vases of fresh flowers and potted plants.
She placed her clutch and shawl on one of the sofas and made her way over to the windows. The view from up here was spectacular, but she didn’t expect anything less
from Andres.
She knew when he entered the room, and then his reflection appeared in the glass. He only wore the white shirt and dark slacks from his tuxedo.
She didn’t move, and he slipped his arms around her waist and pressed his face into the side of her neck. With a sigh, she melted back against him, her body sagging into the familiar warmth of his.
God, she missed him. She wanted him everywhere. Between her legs. On top of her. His hands were beautiful. His mouth was beautiful. Even the way he frowned evoked sexy thoughts because she imagined that same frown represented concentration as he thrust into her.
His arms tightened. She arched her neck, and his lips traced the curve as he dropped moist kisses onto her skin.
“Has any other man touched you since we’ve been together?”
Angela moaned. “No.”
“Has any other man kissed you?” His tongue swept the shell of her ear.
She shivered. “No.” She turned and slipped her arms around his torso. “I belong to the prince of Estoria.”
His nostrils flared, and he cupped her face in his long-fingered hands. “Yes, you are mine.” He practically growled the words as his blue eyes filled with a fierce light.
She was making a joke, but she didn’t get the sense that he was joking right now.
He pressed his hands against the glass, making it impossible for her to get away from him.
“Take off your panties.”
“You’re so impatient. You can’t wait?” she teased.
“With you, no. Take them off.”
She made direct eye contact. “I’m not wearing any.”
He froze. “You came to the event with no…” The words trailed off, as if he couldn’t finish the thought.
Slowly, she pulled at her dress, drawing the hem higher. Andres watched with fascination until she’d gathered the fabric in such a way, the hemline was pulled up past her hips and exposed her nakedness.
He didn’t move at first, his shallow breaths the only indication that he paid attention to her wanton display. Then he dropped to his knees, and she closed her eyes when his whole mouth closed over the arch between her thighs.
He lifted one leg over his shoulder and angled his mouth to taste deeper, his tongue dipping into the moist flesh and then burrowing into her wet channel. Angela moaned, eyes closed, pleasure holding her captive against the cool glass. She undulated her hips as he licked and sucked.
“Don’t stop, Andres. Please.” She dropped the dress and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them together and playing with the nipples.
Under her dress, his tongue swept across her wet lips and sucked her swollen clit. But then he abruptly stopped, stood, and simply looked down at her.
She wound her arms around his neck. “I want to come. Please, Andres.”
He lifted her in his arms, took her to the bedroom, and placed her in the bed. He stripped the clothes from her body and from his and then climbed in after her.
He claimed between her legs again and kissed her center until she came all over his mouth with a hoarse cry. She clawed the sheets as her body quivered in the aftermath. Dizzy and spent, she scooted backward in an effort to escape.
But Andres wasn’t having it. His hands tightened on her thighs.
“I’m not done. You begged me to come,” he growled over her wet flesh.
He dragged her back to his mouth and forced her legs wider. He took control and there was nothing she could do but accept the sensual assault. Accept the way that he laved her wet core and accept that he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied. Grabbing onto his hair, she closed her eyes and savored how his stiff tongue roamed the delicate folds. He knew just what to do and seemed intent on literally driving her insane with pleasure.
With a long, dragging suck, he pulled another bone-melting orgasm from the depths of her body. She rocked under the force of climactic shock and was breathless and panting when he finally released her.
He crawled up the bed and put his soft mouth over a hard, aching nipple. He sucked at the same time his hands rubbed over her belly and the curve of her hips.
Angela smoothed her hands over his back as she arched deeper into his caresses.
“Now,” he muttered.
He seared their bodies together with unexpected urgency. God, how she loved the sensation when he first entered her. Her fingernails sank into his shoulders, and then he was lifting her hips off the bed to get in deeper.
“Andres,” she whimpered.
He kissed her cheeks and her neck. Squeezed her breasts and tugged on her nipples. She came again, crying out, her hips bouncing up and down as she lost control. Her cry triggered a groan and more powerful pumping from him. As she quivered around his length, his erratic, borderline violent thrusts signaled that he neared climax.
Burying his face in her neck, he gripped her hips and finally collapsed on top of her.
Eyes still closed, Angela reached blindly across the bed, expecting to find Andres’s body. Her arm encountered a cool sheet and an empty mattress instead.
How long had she been asleep?
She shoved her thick hair from her face and her eyes fluttered open. Rising onto her elbows, she let her pupils get accustomed to the dim light.
Andres wasn’t in the bathroom, either. There was no light under the door. Where was he?
She sat all the way up and swung her legs off the side of the bed, scouring the floor for an article of clothing to throw over her naked body. She picked up his discarded white shirt and pushed her arms through the long sleeves. His scent filled her nostrils, and she pressed her nose into the collar and took a big whiff.
Treading quietly, she walked into the living room and found Andres seated on the sofa in a white hotel robe, staring out a window. He held a tumbler of clear liquid on one thigh. His hair was tousled after their lovemaking, and she smiled, amused that she’d been the one to give him that endearing, disheveled look.
His stillness made her pause. He was frowning, in such deep thought he hadn’t noticed she’d entered the room. There was definitely something wrong with him, and it was time to get to the bottom of it.
She moved forward again, and he suddenly glanced in her direction.
“You’re up,” he said.
“Yes. And you look like you’ve been up for a while.” Angela sat down beside him and folded one leg beneath her. She brushed her fingertips through his dark hair. “What’s going on? Something’s obviously on your mind. Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”
“I can?”
Surprised by his skepticism, she withdrew her hand and rested it on the back of the sofa. “Of course. You’ve trusted me in the past. Is there some problem with Estoria?”
While she couldn’t fully understand the extent of his duties, she knew his position as prince could be a demanding one.
“I don’t have a lot of time…” His words trailed off as he roughly shoved his fingers through his hair, further disturbing the strands.
“Time for what?” Her chest tightened. Something was very, very wrong.
“Nothing,” he replied irritably. He stood and stalked over to the bar.
“It’s not nothing, Andres.”
He didn’t reply. As if he hadn’t set a half-full glass on the bar top, he poured himself another vodka, this time on the rocks. He took a sip and then dropped his hand. The bottom of the glass hit the bar with a loud bang.
She walked over to him and stood several feet away. “What is it?”
His jaw tightened and the seconds stretched by as he gazed down into the clear liquid. Finally, he looked at her. “It’s my grandfather,” he said solemnly.
“Is there something wrong with Prince Felipe?”
“As you know, he hasn’t been well. He’s gotten more forgetful in his old age and the doctors told him he has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry.” She stepped closer and rubbed his back.
No wonder he was so distracted. He and his grandfat
her were very close, and he was bound to face some trying times as the disease progressed.
“That’s not all,” Andres said in a grim tone. He kept his back turned to her and his head bowed. “He’s made a decision about the successor to the throne.”
Angela became very still. “You,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
Prince Felipe had skipped over other family members Andres had been certain he’d choose.
“What does this mean?” Angela squeaked.
His voice lowered. “Due to my grandfather’s age and declining health, it means…” He straightened his shoulders. “More work for me, less time traveling, and next year I will ascend the throne.”
Angela stood uncertainly. There was more bad news. She knew it.
Andres finally faced her, and their eyes locked. “And I must find a wife.”
21
No.
The shock of his declaration rammed into Angela with unexpected force.
“You’re going to marry someone else?” She knew the answer but needed him to say it.
“Yes.” That single word decimated her.
“You told me you loved me and now you’re going to marry someone else?”
“Angela, I don’t have a choice. Do you really think I want to do this?”
She wasn’t being fair. She was judging him too harshly, but she couldn’t help it.
“How much time do we have?” she asked, her lips so numb she found it difficult to speak.
“Our time is at an end. My grandfather has already prepared a list of recommended brides for me to choose from. He will abdicate in July of next year, at which time I will become the ruling monarch of my country. The announcement will be made in a couple of weeks.”
Angela blinked. “So soon? When did you find out?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Wait a minute, and you still met me tonight?”
“We’d already made plans. I wanted to see you.”
“What? How could you, Andres? So you screwed me even though you knew you had this news to tell me? What was all this? The perfect kiss goodbye?” She felt sick.
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