by Trish Morey
Rakin was starting to wonder what was keeping her so preoccupied. When they’d returned to their penthouse suite a feast was waiting. But Laurel had only picked at bits of smoked salmon and some melon; she hadn’t touched the sparkling wine Rakin had poured for her.
Now she blocked the open doorway leading out to the balcony that overlooked the acres of hotel gardens.
“You’re very quiet,” he said at last, coming up from behind her and placing a hand on her bare arm. “Don’t you want something more to eat?”
She drew a deep breath, then said in a rush, “You promised this marriage wouldn’t be about sex.”
He did a double take. Had Laurel thought his concern for her was a come-on? “It isn’t.”
“Then why…” She cocked her head and dropped her eyes to rest pointedly where his hand lingered on her forearm “…that?”
His gaze followed hers. Ah.
“I like touching—I’m a very demonstrative man.”
“Always?”
“Not always,” he admitted.
“Then when?”
When he liked someone. When he was attracted to someone. And both applied to Laurel.
He made a sound that was half sigh, half laugh. “Busted. It seems that some sex might be involved after all.”
But Laurel didn’t laugh along with him. Instead, her gaze lifted to his face. “Frankly, I’ve never known what the fuss is about.”
She said it with innocent artlessness that was an affront to his prowess. Rakin was utterly certain he could change her mind. Arousal leapt through him at the very notion of teaching Laurel about the adventures of love. Huskily he said, “I could show you exactly what the fuss is about.”
That evoked a startled look. The flush spread along her throat, down over the décolleté that her exquisite white wedding dress left exposed. She tried to laugh—it came out a strangled croak. “No, thanks.”
But her eyes dropped to his bottom lip, lingered for a long moment, then leapt back to meet his before scuttling away. And in his trousers his erection grew rigid. Laurel was curious. And, forget killing the cat, her curiosity was going to be the death of him.
“Okay. No sex, only marriage,” he promised, and wondered how the hell he was going to keep such a stupid vow.
Her tongue moistened her lower lip. “I wasn’t even thinking about sex.”
Who was she kidding? She’d brought the damn subject up! Lowering his gaze to her lush, red mouth, he said softly, “Of course you were. You’re a very beautiful woman. You must fend off propositions all the time.”
“I try to head them off before they happen,” Laurel said with blunt honesty.
That brought his gaze back to her face and he searched to read what she was telling him. “You freeze them out?”
“Freeze sounds so… cold. I try to be a little kinder.”
He gazed at her for a very long moment. The green eyes were more vulnerable than he’d ever seen them. They’d turned the soft, delicate shade of spring leaves dampened by rain. Rakin got the impression he was seeing a side of Laurel that few people ever did.
“What are you thinking?”
He shook his head, doubting Laurel would be comfortable with his observation. “Eli was right.”
“About what?” she asked suspiciously.
“You really are a very nice woman.”
Her lips curved up. “The feeling is mutual. I think you’re a very nice man. So if it’s not for sex, then why kiss me like that in the gondola?”
Rakin placed a hand on the doorframe on either side of her. “I could say to seal the terms of our agreement.”
“It’s a business agreement—it didn’t need a kiss to conclude it, and it definitely didn’t need two kisses.”
He restrained himself from pointing out she hadn’t rebuffed either kiss.
“I’m not going to lie,” he settled for saying instead. “I would very much enjoy making love to you. It would be an intensely sensual and pleasurable experience for both of us. Another adventure—more for you to discover, I have no doubt about that. But if you wish sex to play no part in our arrangement, I will respect that.”
But it would not be easy.
When she didn’t respond, he grew more serious. “What are you waiting for? Do you believe there’s someone out there in the world just for you? Someone who you won’t want to freeze out?”
“Honestly? Love’s been more than a little elusive. I’m not sure I really know what it is—even though I know there is a great deal more to it than sweet words. Kara and Eli have proved that to me.” She shrugged. “Frankly, I’d settle for a marriage with the promise of adventure rather than love.”
Relief filled Rakin, and the tension twisting his gut that all that talk about love and babies always brought drained out of him. “Adventure I can give you.”
“Ah, but what’s the catch? Are we still talking about sex?”
“No catch.” Laurel raised her eyebrows so sharply that Rakin gave her an amused smile. “Not that kind, anyway. Not sex. At least, not if you don’t want it, too.” His smile became taunting. “Are you sure you want to close the door to the opportunity to explore something wonderful that might exist between you and me?”
Then he steeled himself for her rejection.
But instead of rejection, her eyes filled with curiosity. Her gaze touched his face, dropped lower, then came back. “Exploring anything between us? I just don’t know.?…”
And her indecision left him in a worse, far more frustrating place than outright rejection.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, his voice rough with frustration.
Talking about sex had made it hard to even think about sleep.
Laurel had showered in the luxurious bathroom off her room. She should’ve changed into the nightie that Kara, in her role as sister and wedding planner, had once upon a time chosen for Laurel’s honeymoon. What on earth had possessed her to pack it? It seemed wrong to wear it now—because it had been picked out for her honeymoon with Eli.
And tonight was her wedding night… with Rakin.
So the sexy garment lay abandoned on the bed, and Laurel didn’t feel like crawling into a comfortable T-shirt. She was far too wired.
Which was why she was sitting on the stool in front of the dresser in a one of the HERS monogrammed terry robes that the hotel supplied, thinking about her provocative brand-new husband. Because of him, the idea of a marriage in name only was proving to be a little disappointing.
Why not turn the relationship between herself and Rakin into a journey of exploration, too?
Laurel stretched sinuously. In the mirror above the dresser she caught sight of her neckline, which gaped open, revealing the rising curve of her breast. When she looked up, she caught sight of her eyes sparkling with interest and excitement.
Rakin promised to be an accomplished lover. Why shouldn’t she take advantage of his suggestion?
Rakin came out the master bathroom toweling his hair, his body still damp from the shower he’d taken. He flung the wet towel onto the king bed.
He heard a gasp, and glanced up.
Laurel stood in the doorway to the master suite, her eyes wide at the sight of his nude body.
No point trying to cover up—it was far too late.
“What are you doing here?” he asked instead.
Her eyes gave her away. And instantly he was aroused.
He moved toward her. “You came for this.”
She didn’t protest as he took her into his arms. He kissed her, and her lips parted.
He paused, aware that once he started, he wouldn’t stop. “Are you certain?”
Her nod was a quick, jerky movement. Rakin smoothed his hands along the front of her bathrobe, then slid them underneath. He caressed her arms, but the terry cloth hindered him. He pushed it back. It fell from her shoulders, then to the floor.
She, too, was now naked.
Rakin drew her down to the wide space of the bed, and cam
e down beside her. He caressed her with long slow strokes, and she relaxed with a soft sigh. His thigh brushed hers apart, and he placed his mouth over hers.
This time the kiss was ravenous.
Rakin was breathing hard by the time it came to an end, and Laurel’s eyes were wild.
Reaching out a hand, he stroked her belly; then he reached down farther… and touched her. A keening sound broke from her throat. Rakin stilled.
Laurel didn’t move. Her eyes were closed and her teeth had bitten into the soft bottom lip that he’d kissed so thoroughly. She appeared to be waiting.
Gently Rakin stroked again. Her spine arched, and her harsh gasp broke the silence simmering between them. Her eyes popped open.
“Sorry.”
Rakin took in the flood of pink on her cheeks.
“Relax,” he urged. “Don’t apologize.”
“That moan…” Laurel looked uncomfortable. “It wasn’t ladylike.” She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. “And describing it sounds much worse. Forget I said… whatever it was.”
Rakin leaned forward and took her hands in his and gave a gentle tug. When she finally lifted her head, he said, “Listen to me. I don’t need you to be the perfect lady. I want you to be yourself.”
She gave him gentle smile. “Then there’s one thing you need to understand: I am a perfect lady—I don’t think I could be an imperfect lady.”
He adored her sense of humor, the way she could laugh at herself… at the world… with him.
“Oh, I understand that.”
“It’s—” She broke off and her eyes slid away from his. She gave a breathless laugh. “I’m embarrassed.”
He knew that too. And it was holding her back. Rakin threaded his fingers through her hair and tipped her head so that he could look down into her eyes. “Why?”
“Everything feels so much… more.”
“More?”
“Stronger. More intense.” She laughed again. “Do I sound crazy or do you have this effect on all women?”
Rakin didn’t want to talk about other woman.
His bride was the only woman who interested him—and what she’d just revealed had pleased him. Maybe she wasn’t holding back at all; maybe she was progressing in leaps and bounds.
Euphoria drowned him. “Then I’ll have to prove there’s still more to come,” he growled throatily.
Her eyes glazed over in shock. “More? Is that possible?”
Laurel was a grown woman, but clearly she’d never encountered the right man to unleash her passion. Triumph swept him. He intended to change that. Lessons in seduction. She’d prove to be an eager student. He couldn’t wait.
With a slow, deliberate smile he said, “I think there’s more about adventure for me to share with you. But first I want a promise.”
“A… promise?”
He nodded. “I want you to let yourself go. No restraint. No holding back.”
Wariness shadowed her eyes. “What are you planning to do?”
The way she looked at him caused Rakin to give a crack of laughter. “Nothing too wild. All I want you to do is enjoy yourself.”
“Enjoy myself? You mean…” She spread her hands helplessly. “What exactly do you mean?”
Rakin took pity on her and he lay back on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow. “Let yourself go a little.?… Don’t stress or feel awkward. Most of all I want you to forget all about being a Kincaid. You’re you. Focus on being the woman you want to be. Above all, trust that every bit of pleasure you experience, I get to live it, too.”
Laurel’s eyes brightened. “I can do that.”
“Now roll over—so that I can pleasure you.”
She must be intoxicated, Laurel decided as she drew a deep, steadying breath. But this time not tipsy from the effects of too much wedding champagne as she’d been at Kara’s wedding. Or even from the French champagne that Rakin had poured into slim crystal goblets when they’d walked into the suite. This time it was the impact of Rakin’s closeness.
He filled her senses.
The rich warm gold of his skin, the way the light caught the high blades of his cheekbones, the dark velvet eyes that could be so forceful and compelling one moment, so kind and compassionate the next. And when his hand touched hers… sensations she’d never felt before prickled through her.
His lips whispered across the soft silk of her throat. Laurel arched her neck and he rewarded her with a row of kisses until his lips reached the hollow at the base of her throat. The lick of his tongue against the tender skin caused her to arch farther, her back coming off the bed.
The sound that broke from her suddenly dry throat was raw and without restraint—and definitely not what could be expected from a Southern lady—especially not a Kincaid. Laurel was trapped in the mindless web of pleasure where nothing existed.
Except Rakin.
And the shattering pleasure she was experiencing.
Twisting her head, she closed her eyes more tightly, her fingers twisting through his hair. Rakin covered her skin again with open-mouthed kisses that inflamed her further.
Her breath caught in the back of her throat as his lips closed over the tip of one sensitive breast. The sensation that forked through her was incredible. Hot. White. Spears of pleasure pierced her. Between her fingers his hair had the texture of rough, raw silk. When he broke off the caress, a sigh of denial shook her.
“Slow down,” he murmured, before giving the other breast the same treatment, trailing a row of fresh kisses over the skin he’d uncovered.
How was she supposed to slow down when he was driving her mad?
Her hands dropped from his head and dug into the counterpane, and her back arched off the bed. She fought to keep her breathing even. Not to let it escape in the great gasping pants that instinctively seemed to want to happen.
Rakin, too, seemed to lose the race. His heart was pounding against her breasts, as he moved over her. Her legs parted, and she welcomed him, her arms closing around his back, reveling in the smooth satin of his skin against her palms.
It didn’t take much more, before he came apart in her embrace.
Rakin rested his arms on the balustrade. The blackness of night enfolded him, while overhead the star-studded sky twinkled. In the master bedroom he’d silently sneaked from, Laurel slept.
He was restless.
The earth-shattering pleasure he had just experienced was not what he’d expected from his bride of convenience.
Foreboding rolled in the pit of his stomach as he stared out into the darkness.
Rakin was not accustomed to the unexpected. Despite what he’d told Laurel about letting go, every facet of his life was meticulously plotted, with careful consideration given to the outcome of each action he undertook. Being swept along by the force of the unknown was not part of his plan. It was Laurel who should be experiencing the thrall of adventure… not he.
He’d thought himself immune from the excitement of novelty. World-weary. Cynical. Not the kind of man to lose his head over a woman—not even one as beautiful as Laurel. After all, he didn’t believe in love. He’d been immunized against that lethal condition from a very young age. Not that it stopped him from appreciating—or enjoying—women.
What he didn’t do was go crazy over them or fall in love—that way led downhill to destruction.
And, even though he wouldn’t call it going crazy, he was thinking way too much about his new bride.
The softness of her skin, the curve of her cheek… the sweet taste of her mouth. And that was before he got to the passion of—
Rakin censored his wayward thoughts. He didn’t want her to stir again, not until morning.
For the rest of the night, he would let his bride sleep.
While he reminded himself why he’d married her. For business only.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LAST night had been a mistake.
While Rakin had been courteous at breakfast this morning and unfailingly pol
ite during the journey to the airport, Laurel detected a distance between them that she hadn’t encountered before.
She wasn’t imagining it.
Since they’d boarded the Learjet, she’d made a couple of light attempts to engage him in conversation, but he’d remained aloof and eventually he’d settled down on the sofa opposite and picked up the business section of the newspaper.
Her humorous, patient companion of the past few days had vanished without a trace.
And Laurel wanted to know why.
Pretending to be engrossed in a magazine, she flicked through stories about the latest celebrity scandals. But her brain couldn’t stop buzzing. Had Rakin wanted a marriage in name only? Had he felt pressured to provide a sexual adventure for her benefit last night? Or was the passion they’d shared last night what he wanted? The notion was far too awkward to broach.
The lack of a clear answer left her feeling terribly unsure.
“Would you like a glass of champagne, madam?”
The attendant’s voice jerked her out of her reverie. “No thanks.” Champagne was the last thing she needed. And with Rakin in this mood she couldn’t even joke with him about trying to get her tipsy.?…
“Maybe orange juice?” suggested Rakin, looking up from his papers to her immense surprise.
“That would be nice.” Laurel smiled her thanks as the attendant poured the juice and set the glass down on the coffee table.
“Don’t hesitate to call for anything you need,” the attendant offered before disappearing through a set of heavy curtains.
The touch of Rakin’s eyes was distracting, especially with the silence that hung over them now that they were alone. Laurel swallowed. “Okay, so I know you have a grandfather who is a tyrant and a cousin. Tell me about the rest of your family.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m an only child. My parents died in an airplane crash when I was twelve. My mother was American, my father was the eldest of two sons and four daughters all born and raised as part of the extended royal family in Diyafa. My grandfather is the youngest brother of the ruling prince.” A glint appeared in his eyes as Laurel reacted in surprise. “But never fear, I am far enough removed from the throne for the internecine politics not to rule my life.”