One Night With The Forbidden Princess (Monteverre Marriages Book 1)

by Amanda Cinelli

  She stood still for a moment, before modesty got the better of her and she self-consciously moved one hand to shield her most intimate parts from his hungry gaze.

  Roman closed the distance between them in a single movement, encircling her waist with his hands and pulling her with him into the water. With her body partially hidden, she relaxed in his arms and pressed herself tightly against him.

  ‘I changed my mind too,’ Roman said throatily, his mouth tracing a path along the exposed curve of her neck.

  Her hands refused to stay clasped at his neck, instead preferring to explore the muscles of his back and down his waist.

  She bit her lip seductively, removing her nails from where they had pinched quite roughly. ‘I have wanted to do that for quite a while now.’

  ‘Oh, so we are making up for lost time?’ He gathered her higher, to his chest, wrapping one of her legs around his waist before doing the same with the other and pressing her back against the wall of the pool. ‘In that case...’

  Olivia groaned at the sensation of having Roman’s lean, hard body cradled between her thighs, and his mouth captured hers in a kiss filled with barely restrained want. She could feel the heat of his chest pressing against hers and silently prayed for him to kiss her there again. As if he’d heard her plea, he broke the kiss and began trailing a path down her neck. By the time his mouth reached her breast, her breath was coming in short bursts. His mouth, hot and sinful, captured the entire rosy peak and tortured her with slow, languorous circles.

  She began writhing against him as his free hand cupped her bottom and squeezed hard. The pleasure that rocketed through her was like being shot with lightning, and suddenly it was not her mind but her body that knew exactly what she wanted and just where she wanted him.

  Her hips rolled against him and she moved herself lower, startled as she felt the hardness of his erection press erotically against her skin.

  ‘Slow down,’ he whispered, nipping the skin of her ear with gentle pressure.

  ‘I don’t think I can,’ she breathed, moving against him, silently urging him to move against her. To place himself against her.

  She tried to be embarrassed at her wanton response, but found she was quite past caring. Roman held her hips tightly in his hands, effectively stopping her movements. She looked up to find his dark eyes trained on her face and his jaw tight with restraint.

  ‘That is possibly the most beautiful torture I could experience,’ he breathed, leaning forward to gently nip her bottom lip with his teeth. ‘But I want this to be good for you.’

  ‘It feels pretty good so far.’ She licked the curve of his lower lip, her gut clenching as he pressed the full length of himself against her in one quick slide.

  ‘Olivia... I’m so hard right now that taking you fast and furious against this wall is not a good idea.’

  He moved again, letting the tip of his erection slide against her sensitive throbbing flesh.

  ‘Oh...’ She moaned low in her throat as he moved, making slow, aching circles over just the right spot. ‘Roman...don’t stop.’

  She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as his mouth found her breast once more. The double effect of his touch made her heart jump into overdrive and she could feel her pulse thrumming hard, as though it tried to escape her skin.

  He urged her on in a mixture of English and Russian, his low, husky words sending her soaring higher and higher until she swore she could take no more. She dug her fingernails deep into his shoulders, wanting him to stop but wanting him to keep going for ever. It was like being trapped in her own personal hurricane—being swept up into a power so much stronger than herself.

  When she finally found her release Roman was right there to catch her and hold her as she fell back down to earth. Heat spread out across her body, sending electricity right down to the tips of her toes. She opened her eyes and realised she was being lifted out of the water as her skin came into contact with the cold lip of the pool.

  The contact was brief, as Roman lifted himself out and gathered her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. It was strange, allowing him to carry her naked across the terrace. They were completely alone on the island, so privacy was guaranteed, and as she looked up at him she realised the feeling she had was not one of nervousness but one of anticipation.

  He carried her easily up the stairs to his master suite. She had barely taken in the cool grey sheets on the gigantic bed when she felt her anticipation quickly intensify to mild panic. He was advancing on her now, his perfect muscular torso glowing in the light of a single lamp as he lowered himself over her and cupped her face with one hand.

  As his lips lowered to touch hers she turned her cheek, grimacing when she realised what she had done.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ he whispered from above her, one hand trailing down her shoulder in a slow, sensual path. ‘Are you...rethinking this?’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly, noting his features soften with relief. ‘No, I’m definitely not rethinking any of this.’

  ‘Relax,’ he murmured, kissing a path down between the valley of her breasts. ‘This is one of those fantasies I was telling you about.’

  ‘It is?’

  She lay back, staring up at the ceiling and willing herself to calm down. His mouth was doing a very good job of distracting her. That was until she realised just where those lips were headed. She tensed, reaching down for him just as his lips began to trace a path below her navel.

  ‘This is my fantasy, remember?’ he said, gripping her wrists and holding them by her sides. ‘And I haven’t even got to the good part yet.’

  ‘Roman...you can’t honestly—’

  ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked, his eyes dark with passion as his lips pressed gentle kisses along the inside of her thigh.

  Olivia watched him kiss her, watched him draw closer to the centre of her, and felt herself nod once. She did trust him. Completely.

  The nerves fell away with each gentle kiss on her skin and her eyes never left him, watching as he drew his tongue slowly against the centre of her sex. Her back arched and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. When she looked back down his eyes were on her, dark and possessive, as he moved his hands to spread her wide and kiss her even deeper.

  Her head sank back against the pillows as her body was enveloped in wave after wave of hot, wet pleasure. She reached down and knitted her fingers through his hair, anchoring him to the spot that felt most intense. He growled his appreciation, sliding one finger inside her in a slow rhythm.

  ‘Oh... Roman...’ She gasped at the feeling of delicious fullness, hardly believing it when he added a second digit to join the first without breaking rhythm.

  Just as she began to feel that pressure mounting once more he removed his mouth, sliding up her body in one fluid movement. He reached across to the nightstand, grabbing a small foil packet and sheathing himself with lightning speed.

  ‘I can’t wait another second. This time I want to be inside you when you come,’ he rasped, his voice half demand, half question as he met her eyes in the dim glowing light.

  She spread her legs wide, silently answering his question with her body.

  She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he positioned himself at her entrance, slick and ready from his expert attentions. His breathing hitched as he entered her with exaggerated slowness. Olivia raised her legs to encircle his waist, showing him that she was ready. That she wanted to feel him inside her for the first time.

  The feeling of fullness was so intense she almost begged him to stop. After a moment she wanted to ask if there was much more of him to go.

  There was.

  She breathed deep as the sensation became uncomfortable, and was vaguely aware of Roman’s voice intruding on her thoughts.

  ‘I’m hurting you,’ he said, deeply concerned, and began to withdraw from her.


  Olivia held him with her thighs, keeping them connected as her body adjusted to his sizeable girth. ‘Now it’s your turn to be patient,’ she breathed.

  She tested her hips once, then twice, in a slow rolling movement. What had begun as a dull sting of pressure soon gave way to a more pleasurable pulse of heat.

  Roman’s breath hissed from between his teeth as she moved against him, but he remained exaggeratedly still above her.

  ‘Does that feel good for you?’ Olivia asked, taking in his tense jaw and serious expression as she tightened her innermost muscles, feeling the delicious hardness of him buried inside her.

  Roman lowered his face into the crook of her neck, groaning low in his throat as though he was in pain. ‘Oh, yes. Oh, God, yes.’

  Olivia smiled, moving against him and feeling his breathing quicken in response. Suddenly he moved over her, his body arching slowly to press more firmly against her. She looked up into his eyes and somehow knew just what he needed.

  He moved her thighs high on his waist, spreading her wide so that he could thrust right to the hilt. She gasped in pleasure, her hands on his chest as he braced himself on his forearms above her. His rhythm was deep and purposeful as he moved over her. He was powerful and entirely lost in his own pleasure.

  Release reached them both at the same time, crashing down in wave after wave of pleasure. Olivia closed her eyes as the last of the ripples flowed through her, feeling the mattress move as Roman lay himself down heavily beside her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ROMAN LAY STILL for a long time, his brain working overtime to fight through the heavy fog that always came after orgasm. This was different—heavier, somehow. He had never experienced a climax so intense.

  Thoughts of why he should not feel so relaxed threatened the edges of his consciousness but he fought them off. He would analyse the repercussions of what they had just done in the morning, for now he thoroughly intended to repeat the experience just as soon as she was able.

  He turned on his side, looking down at her where she lay curled on her side. Her eyes were closed, and for a moment he wondered if she was asleep, but then her lashes fluttered open and he was pinned by that blue-green gaze. Her hair had come undone at some stage, and its long lengths were spread across his sombre grey pillows in all their vibrant red glory. If possible, it looked even redder in that moment.

  He reached out, taking a strand in his hands and running his fingers along the length of it. He was suddenly overcome by the realisation that it had been her first time and he had almost taken her in the swimming pool. Thankfully his brain hadn’t been too far gone to realise that she deserved an actual bed for such a delicate moment, and that they needed to use protection. He never forgot to take precautions.

  ‘I hope that was...satisfactory?’ He smiled, a glow of male pride in his chest as he took in the slow smile that spread across her face.

  ‘I never even dreamed that it could be so...’ she began, shaking her head. ‘Earth-shattering.’

  ‘It isn’t always that way.’

  He ran a finger down the valley of her breasts, watching the play of light on her flawless skin. He had only just finished making love to her and he yet he couldn’t stop touching her.

  ‘I’m glad my first time was with you,’ she said softly.

  Roman stilled, taking in the look of deep emotion in her eyes. Knowing his own personal warning bells should be ringing at full blast. She was not experienced enough to separate the physical side of what they had just shared from her emotional reaction. And yet even as he told himself to remind her of his rules he found that he himself was having a hard time abiding by them.

  He fought the urge to lean in, to kiss her mouth and lay a trail of kisses down her neck. He frowned. Such actions were dangerously close to tenderness. He was not a tender lover—to a virgin or not.

  But he cared what she thought of him, that she’d enjoyed her first time—that was entirely normal, wasn’t it?

  Maybe that was the problem. He had nothing to compare it to, having steered clear of virgins up to now. He had never enjoyed the idea of being a woman’s first, of having that much pressure on the act. But now, knowing he was the only one to have touched her, been inside her, heard her scream out in her orgasm...

  He wanted more.

  It was a dangerous madness, feeling like this. He had always prided himself on remaining detached and aloof from the women he chose to spend time with. They knew he wasn’t in it for commitment. They got what they needed and left his bed satisfied as a result.

  Olivia sighed deeply and moved so that she lay against his side. Her hand stroked up the inside of his wrist to his elbow and he looked down to see her curiously tracing the thick black band of ink that encircled his forearm.

  He didn’t think of the tattoo often—it was usually covered up and out of sight. But every now and then he found himself looking at it, thinking of the man who’d branded him, of the life that had branded him. And yet he had never had it removed.

  ‘It’s a gang tattoo,’ he offered, not knowing why he suddenly felt the urge to explain. ‘Not my own personal choice of design.’

  Her lips formed a delicate little O as her fingers stilled over him. ‘From your time in prison?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘Long before prison.’

  A silence fell between them. Roman wondered if perhaps she was regretting her choice of lover after his revelation, but after a moment she sat up on her elbow, pinning him with her gaze.

  ‘This gang—did they use guns a lot? Is that where your fear stems from?’

  Roman frowned, laying his head back against the pillows as he remembered the events of the day before in painful detail. ‘No. That’s not where it comes from.’

  She seemed suddenly self-conscious. ‘I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly pillow-talk material. I know you are probably the kind of guy who doesn’t like to talk afterwards.’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said honestly. ‘But I can compromise.’ He turned smoothly onto his side, so that they were face to face. ‘You can ask me one question about my past and I will answer it—truthfully.’

  Her eyelashes lowered momentarily. ‘Who is Sofiya?’

  Roman was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Sofiya was my little sister,’ he said. ‘She died a long time ago.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ Olivia’s brow deepened into a frown. ‘She must have been very young.’

  ‘Sixteen.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s in the past. Almost twenty years ago.’

  ‘Grief doesn’t care about time.’ The corners of her lips tilted down sadly. ‘My grandmother was buried ten years ago and I still visit her grave often.’

  ‘I have never visited Sofiya’s resting place,’ Roman said, surprised at how easily the words spilled from him. ‘Her parents despised me.’

  Olivia sat up slightly. ‘Her parents? Not yours?’

  ‘We were both abandoned by our birth mother at a very young age. Sofiya was a tiny blonde cherub with big blue eyes. She was adopted very quickly. I was not.’

  ‘Oh...’ She sat up slightly, looking down at him with concern.

  He hated the feeling of being so vulnerable, and yet somehow he was unable to stop the words from coming once they’d started. ‘Unlike my sister, I wasn’t the most appealing child. I always had too much to say. It became a part of me to cause as much trouble as I could manage.’

  He frowned, remembering the uncontrollable rage that had filled him as a child. He had broken toys, furniture—even bones on a few occasions.

  ‘I was fuelled by anger and hatred. I was kept at the orphanage until I grew too big to contain. After I ran away for the third time they stopped trying to bring me back.’

  ‘That is when you became homeless?’

  Roman nodded. But the truth was he had never known a home. The only difference was that once he’d left
the orphanage he’d had the added struggle of finding a safe place to sleep at night.

  ‘I can’t imagine how that was for a young boy.’

  ‘I was thirteen—practically a man.’ A low, harsh laugh escaped his lips as he thought of his gangly young self, so cocky and self-assured. ‘When the local thugs saw the size of me they asked me to run errands. I didn’t mind that they were criminals. They took me in...gave me a warm bed. One of the guys even bought me shoes.’

  His chest tightened at the memory. He had worn those shoes until his feet had burst out of them. Then he had gone out and stolen himself a brand-new pair.

  ‘I was thin and fast. They used me to climb through windows and vents and such on jobs. I felt very important.’

  Olivia was quiet as he spoke on, telling her of his ascent into the criminal gangs of St Petersburg. To her credit, she did not react in any way other than to ask a question or to clarify a point. She just listened.

  She listened when he told her of Alexi—the father of ‘the brotherhood’, as he’d called it. She nodded as he told her how, when he had grown broader and stronger, he had advanced to being a part of the main crew. They’d held up banks, intercepted cash in transit and generally just taken whatever they wanted. More than once he felt the old shame seep in, threatening to silence him, but she urged him on.

  ‘This Alexi guy...he sounds dangerous,’ she said softly, tracing a small circle on his chest as she watched him.

  Roman thought for a moment of the man who had simultaneously given him everything and then torn his life to pieces.

  ‘I wanted nothing more than for Alexi to be proud of me. He was the only dominant male figure I had ever known. It made me feel needed, validated—I don’t know.’ He shook his head, uncomfortable with the conversation all of a sudden. He didn’t like to think of Alexi, of the hold he had once had on him.