“What do you wish to do with me?”
He wanted to take off her clothes and make hot, passionate love to her. He wanted to kiss every inch of her. He wanted to take her, right now, right on top of the royal desk.
“I can’t see you putting me in front of a firing squad,” she said conversationally as if sensing that his angry mood had softened. However, she might not be teasing him so boldly if she knew the direction his emotions had taken.
He wanted to kiss her until neither of them had room in their minds for anything but passion.
“And I can’t picture you hanging a woman, either.”
The only thing he wanted to hang was a nude painting of her over his bed.
“Oh, I forgot. Vashmira is civilized. You don’t have the death penalty here. Are you going to lock me up, Nicholas?”
“How about in my bedroom for a week?”
Her eyes lit up. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, her fingers moving with a feminine grace that made his mouth water in anticipation. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
Sarcasm or honesty?
He couldn’t read her, but she was playing with fire, and he suspected she knew it. Could she read the hunger in his expression? Did she have any idea of the effect of the images she was placing in his mind?
When he said nothing but reached across the desk, grabbed her blouse in one fist and tugged, her nostrils flared and her pupils dilated. She ended up in his lap, but didn’t protest. Instead, she snuggled closer and reached up to run her palm tenderly down his cheek. “Poor Nicholas. It’s not easy being king, is it?”
“YOU KNOW WHAT’S THE BEST part about being king?” Nicholas asked her with a huskiness that captivated her and kindled a feminine heat down deep in her core.
She didn’t understand how one moment they had been shouting at one another and the next she’d fallen, practically melted, into his arms, but she’d never felt so languid, yet so restless. She also couldn’t understand how easily she’d dropped her I’m-so-businesslike-I’m-a-reporter shield and replaced it with a genuine seductiveness that came straight from the heart. While she had no idea exactly what about this man had made her inhibitions and doubts disappear, she was still rational enough to realize what they had together was special—special enough to break every rule she’d ever adhered to—special enough to risk everything, her reputation, her career and her heart and leave herself ever so vulnerable.
The decision made, she could barely think with her pulse skipping and her heart merrily sprinting. Never before had her blood zinged with such urgency that she had absolutely no inclination to fight the desire running through her.
She leaned back in one languorous move and let her head rest on his arm. “What?”
“As king…I can take whatever I want. Whoever I want.”
Oh, hell.
She felt so absolutely beautiful when he looked at her with that devastatingly wicked gleam in his eyes. As she gazed back at him, all thoughts of her career, of politics, of her reason for coming here washed away.
He lifted her chin and spoke slowly and clearly so there could be no mistaking his words. “And…I want…you.”
Oh, God.
He couldn’t have possibly just said that…. He couldn’t know that she found him incredibly sexy, that for the last few days he’d haunted her every waking hour, that he’d interrupted her work, that he’d disturbed her dreams. Erotic dreams, where she’d awakened and found her breasts aching, her thighs damp and her mind full of him.
In truth, she hadn’t needed much convincing from her boss to return—not to cover the coronation, but for him. For her. For them. To discover what was between them.
She leaned forward and lightly nipped his shoulder, breathed in his masculine scent, revelled in the powerful arms around her.
“Kiss me,” she demanded.
She nipped her way up his neck to his jaw. Apparently, he’d been too busy to shave. The stubble from a five o’clock shadow tickled her lips. And while she couldn’t believe she was acting so boldly, she couldn’t make herself stop. Not when she wanted him so much she couldn’t think past the next few hours.
There was nothing sexier to Ericka than a man who could have had anyone—but who wanted her. A man who had transferred all his anger into sexual heat.
His skin beneath her lips was hot. That he disapproved of her career and her politics could be handled—eventually. Right now, she refused to resist this simmering passion that practically electrified the air around them. Perhaps it was their argument or maybe the power he held over her that turned her on. She only knew that if he didn’t kiss her soon, she fully intended to drag his head down to her.
He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he placed his hands on her waist and lifted her until she sat on the desk facing him. With his fingertips, he traced tiny circles on the inside of her knee. “There’s only one thing you get to decide.”
She should have known he would demand to be in control. “What’s that?”
“Do you prefer my desk or—”
He bent and nibbled along the inside of her knee. Heat shot through her like wildfire.
Oh…my.
“Or would you prefer to wait until I carried you to the bedroom?”
She trembled. “No waiting.” The words had just seemed to pop out of her mouth of their own accord. But then she hadn’t really been in full control of herself since he’d pulled her over his desk.
“Such impatience. I like it.” He reached under her skirt. “Lift.”
She placed her palms on the desk and raised herself, and he removed her panties and hose in one swift movement. She started to unbutton her blouse, but he seized her hands and placed them palm-side down on his desk.
“I want the pleasure of undressing you,” he murmured, his fingers tracing a path of fire up her thighs, but stopping just short of where she wanted him to go.
She’d never felt so wanton and kept her eyes on his as he reached to unbutton her blouse. Heat flared, and his eyes darkened with desire. He fiddled for an extraordinarily long time with the buttons, his knuckles brushing her bra and the swell of her breasts, igniting more heat.
She could barely think. And yet, she knew there was something important she needed to remember. He finally removed her blouse and the cool air did nothing to prevent a rush of warmth from rising up her neck. Although it was evening and blinds covered the windows, the lights were on full.
“Perhaps we should lock the door?” she suggested, her voice trembling.
“In a minute.”
He unhooked her bra. Sucked in his breath in appreciation, cupped her breasts and licked a nipple.
“Nicholas, please…”
“Umm?”
She spoke through teeth gritted in pleasure. “If you won’t lock the door, I will.”
He took her nipple between his teeth, held her prisoner. She groaned in defeat. She couldn’t move as he held her captive, and then his hands slipped between her thighs, found her warm and wet and welcoming.
“If anyone walks in…”
“They won’t.” He raised his head, speaking as he moved on to her other nipple. Then he dipped his head, teeth nibbling, teeny delicious bites, all the while his clever fingers were between her thighs, seeking, stroking, seducing.
She yearned to move her hips, to have him, feel him. “Nicholas, I can’t…just…sit still.”
“Fine.” He unfastened the zipper of her skirt. “Lift up again.”
She found herself sitting before him naked under the bright office lights. Stoked and primed, she felt lush, voluptuous and very, very feminine. She wanted his hand to dip into her again. She only wished he’d lock the damn door, so she could relax.
“I’ll let you lock the door under one condition,” he murmured as he left her thighs, parted and aching for more of his touch, and cupped her breasts, using the pads of his thumbs to stroke her nipples.
Her breath shuddered out in a gasp. “What?”
/> “You promise to come back.”
About to shatter, she ached to yank his lips to hers and kiss him until both of them edged lower into madness. Struggling past layers of pleasure, she instead scooted away from his hands before she forgot all about the door. “Like I’m going to stalk out of here without my clothes?”
“Slower,” he demanded.
“Huh?”
“Walk slower. I want to enjoy this.”
She’d never been shy, but she’d never been this bold, either. Where she found the courage, she’d never know. However, she did as he asked and sauntered, letting her hips sway, even as her knees quivered, as his gaze roved over every inch of her back and bottom. It took forever and an eternity to cover the steps to his door, her heart roaring, her pulse skipping every other beat, and when she got there, she found the door already locked.
She whirled around and glowered. “How?”
His eyes filled with a dangerous heat and appealing laughter. “There’s a switch under my desk.”
“You cad.” Frustrated, she wanted to smack him for letting her leave when she’d so enjoyed sitting on that desk, as he’d stroked and nibbled her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“And miss watching you walk naked across my office?”
Her mouth went cottony dry. The bones in her legs seemed to melt, but she held his fierce gaze, squared her shoulders and flicked her hair back over her shoulder. He wanted to watch her walk? Fine. She cocked her hip and placed one hand on it. She was going to give him a strut to remember.
Oh, yeah. She intended to make his famous royal control snap.
She could do this. She reached up and fluffed her fingers through her hair, arching her back, her breasts rising. She licked her bottom lip, advanced with a model’s flounce, placing one foot in front of the other.
“You know, Nicholas,” she spoke in a whisper designed to whip him into a frenzy of need. “If you want me to come closer, I do believe you should remove your shirt.”
His voice rasped over her. “You promised to return to my desk if I let you go.”
“Oh, I have every intention of fulfilling my end of the bargain—after you strip off those clothes.”
“Lady, you drive a hard bargain.”
She shook a finger at him. “Fair is fair. Take ’em off.”
He had powerful shoulders and a magnificent chest, wide and deep with the cutest little curls of hair that tapered to a flat waist that disappeared into the waistband of his pants. He unzipped and kicked off his pants without the slightest hesitation. His boxers followed, revealing a readiness that appealed to her on every level.
“Be with you in a moment.” He walked around his desk and entered the bathroom. She heard him rummaging through drawers and shelves. He returned triumphant, a foil packet in hand. He removed a condom and unrolled it over himself while she watched, wishing he’d let her do that.
Then he leaned forward and patted the spot where he would have her on his desk at his mercy. She advanced, close enough to appreciate his musky scent, tried to embrace him, but again he placed his hands on her waist, lifted her and plopped her squarely in front of him.
Then he stood with his hips between her dangling legs and spread thighs, his sex teasing her, his mouth hot, demanding and taking whatever he wanted. Tension stretched tautly between them. She tightened with need, arched, trying to gather him into her.
But he would control the pace. Seemed determined to make her wait.
He kissed her thoroughly, slowly. At the same time, he slipped his fingers between her thighs, and she groaned, wanting more. Needing more. Needing all he could give her.
He suddenly filled her, devouring her, his hips plunging and she rose part way off the desk to meet him, matching him stroke for stroke. She clutched his back, grateful when his mouth swallowed her hot moans of pleasure. And then she was soaring, floating, over the edge, her breath ragged, her heart pounding in sweet fury and mind-blowing abandon.
Wave after wave of pleasure stole her breath. Moments later, she felt his release as he tightly breathed her name into her ear and held her close. Slowly, her pulse returned to normal and her brain kicked back into gear, allowing a few clear thoughts.
Nicholas had kept his word, had somehow kept her name and pictures out of the papers, saving her from the consequences of her foolish mistake of kissing him in public, but now she’d gone and made their already complex relationship oh-so-much worse. Only this time, she didn’t regret what she had done.
She’d come to him of her own accord, wanting him with every womanly cell in her body. She’d needed to know if the passion between them would reveal deeper emotions. Needed to know if the lovemaking would live up to the promise. To every question, the answer was an unequivocable yes.
Chapter Ten
Nicholas stared from the parcel on his desk to the entrance that led straight to his personal suite where Ericka Allen still slept. In his bed. A tender smile escaped him as he reflected on their incredible night together. A night of uninhibited, sheer unadulterated passion.
Damn, they were perfect together. Explosive.
For the first time since Ericka had arrived in Vashmira, Nicholas had a handle on his life and felt in control. Clearly their intense sexual attraction to one another was mutual, or she wouldn’t have responded to him with such ardor. And from both his background reports on her and his personal observations, he knew she didn’t lightly make love to a man. As far as he knew, she’d never before mixed her personal life with her business one. That she had given herself to him indicated that she reciprocated his growing feelings for her. He was now confident that, given enough time, he could build a solid and interesting marriage between them.
He scrutinized the package addressed to Ericka and wondered if he would be making a miscalculation to give it to her. Longing to converse with Alexander, but unwilling to speak even to his brother about matters so intimate, he opened his desk drawer, dropped the package inside, slammed the drawer.
He raised his head to find Ericka watching him from the doorway, wearing his robe, which dwarfed her, the sleeves so long they covered her hands. Clearly just out of the shower, with her hair wet and slicked back, her cheeks pink, she appeared younger and sweeter and more vulnerable than she had last night when she’d been a tigress in his arms. He had an instant urge to kiss her, sweep her into his arms and carry her back to bed.
However, they had to work out their differences. A royal marriage could not last if they were compatible only in the bedroom. Marriage required communication on more than a physical level.
She ambled closer and handed him a mug of pungent Turkish coffee. “What’s wrong?”
He sipped and appreciated the kick of caffeine. “You look rested.”
She shrugged, the robe slipping off one delicate shoulder. “Perhaps we should go back to bed—”
“Instead of talking?”
“We always seem to end up arguing with one another.” She leaned a hip on his desk, ignored the robe that inched downward another notch.
“Is that so bad?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
She looked so good to him that he wanted to have her for breakfast. He would have settled for a discussion with his arms around her, but he’d tried that last night. Twice. Making love again and again had been the result.
No, he needed to keep a strict distance from her, keep free of her intoxicating scent, her delicious kisses, her eager response to him that had kept him, for once, from thinking about his responsibilities. He still had much unresolved business. He had yet to catch his father’s murderer or find out who had set off the bomb on the beach. And his country could be on the verge of war.
“The crisis has worsened?” she asked, with a political perception that made their discussion fascinating and frustrating because they never seemed to agree.
“If we want our plane and crew back, Moldova is demanding an apology and an admission that we violated their airspace.”
“Will you—”
He shook his head and did nothing to hide the frustration he felt. “Our plane was on a routine mission over our northern border when the accident occurred. The plane crashed in Moldova by chance. The general says we cannot admit what isn’t true. Anton agrees. Peter has told me our stock market is down five percent already this morning.”
“And you blame my story for the new difficulties?”
She already knew his thoughts on the matter, so he said no more. Ericka might be stubborn, but she was intelligent, too. Perhaps if he didn’t throw in her face how much worse she’d made Vashmira’s situation by reporting the story, she wouldn’t automatically raise her very able self-defense mechanisms. Eventually she might come around to his way of thinking.
She sat calmly drinking her coffee, her thoughts hidden from him. “Nothing good has come of my efforts?”
He shrugged. “We’ve had some encouraging news. Anton has arranged for a diplomatic envoy to visit with the pilot and crew.”
“They are uninjured? Being housed and fed?”
“For now.”
“Perhaps I should write another article and place more emphasis on the severity of the problem. More pressure on the United Nations might—”
“No. I forbid it!”
She stiffened and her eyes pierced him with a fierce flash of defiance.
Damn. His inflammatory words had been uttered before he’d considered a more diplomatic way to state his wishes. Here he’d been hoping she would come around to his way of reasoning, and she wanted to write another story that could further alienate the parties involved.
Obviously, he knew nothing about women. Nothing about the way their minds worked. Why couldn’t she be logical? Why couldn’t she agree with him?
She meticulously and deliberately set down her coffee mug on his desk, pulled up the slipping robe, belted it tightly and paced. “Nicholas, whether or not I write a story is not your decision.”
“That’s the problem.” He tempered his steely resolve with a mental reminder that she didn’t respond well to threats.
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