Vic couldn’t have stunned her more if he had thrown her into the cold river racing below them. Lacey looked down the line of diverse sculptures that graced the ancient masonry, unsure of what to say, and for once had the smarts to keep her mouth shut.
“There is no subversive secret, Lacey. To parade around my heritage as if it were of importance is inappropriate.”
Pride mixed with sadness was etched on his face.
“You would have made a wonderful king.” And she meant every word. She didn’t know why except he had a quiet air about him that breathed fairness and justice.
“Now you know my past and my guarded secret.” He pushed off the railing, and they started their descent toward the city center. “It is your turn to share some of the private Lacey Blake.”
“Where to begin? The mind boggles. It’s been such a whirlwind of parties and single life fun.” She glanced at the King Charles statue at the base of the bridge as the lonely nights trailed through her mind. All those schools where she had struggled to fit in without success along with a home life she hated certainly wasn’t a story she wanted to share.
“It was not good.” He said the words as if he understood.
“That obvious, huh?”
A soft laugh sounded as he tugged her closer.
“Most women I have met do not extend themselves as you to please a man. I think you are searching for happiness, a place to belong that you have yet to find.”
Lacey glanced away so he couldn’t see the tears welling in her eyes. The only sound came from her spike heels as they tapped against the cobblestones. She cleared her throat. “It may not have been paradise, or even close, but at least I learned to rely on myself and move forward.” She shrugged. “Life gave me salt, so I made margaritas.”
Her words did not convince him.
“We have an old saying in my country. Translated to English it would be close to hate destroys the hater. The time has come to release those long held resentments.” He studied her under the moonlight. The way she had shrunk away from him in the bathroom flashed in his mind. Instant rage gushed through him. “Did your father—”
“Good God, no! He’d never have had the energy. Probably what was wrong with my mother. She needed a good screw.” They walked several blocks before she continued. “He was a mean drunk with a strong fist. As time went by, his booze addiction got worse. After they finally threw him out of the Marine Corps, life did a major flush.”
His anger soared. The desire to kill the bastard who had treated this remarkable woman cruelly whipped through him. He took several breaths to regain composure before he could hear more of the man who vented his shortcomings on a tender child. He walked on in silence and decided to move to a healthier subject.
“You are a strong person with a tasteful eye for decor. Those are good qualities to build upon.”
“About that, my new friend, I can brag. The eye, not the strength.” Maybe she should let go another piece of her soul for therapy sake. Plus, she wanted him to know she wasn’t an idiot without one functioning brain cell in her head. “I just finished school, and I start a brand new job when I return home.”
“How old are you?” His skin grayed under the yellow streetlamp.
“Not quite thirty.” And the light bulb clicked on. “What, you thought you were boinking some kid?”
He stood straighter and looked very much like his esteemed heritage.
“I assume you are referring to making love, and no, it is obvious you are not a child.”
She snorted. “Yeah, like I never guessed you were royalty.”
“Enough silliness.”
He waved his hand, and Lord, if it didn’t look like a scepter belonged there.
“What is this job?”
“Well, my Royal Gruffness, I busted my rear and earned a Masters of Fine Arts from a prestigious institute in Chicago, which gleaned me an interior designer position with Clemmons House, a privately owned international hotel chain.”
“I know of them and the owner. Exquisite hotels the elite flock to.”
“I’m really excited about this position. It’s a great opportunity for me.”
“After I considered all your earlier comments and advice on the décor of my hotel, I realized you have a natural gift. You will do well.”
His words meant more to her than she should have allowed. She never imagined someone would actually believe in her.
“You have never married?”
An unexpected change of subject. Marriage was out of her equation. Her parents had taught her well. She considered her words before answering.
“Nope, not for me. When I was a teenager, my grandmother gave me a book to read so I’d be a better wife when the time came. I don’t remember the name, but I do remember the ridiculous contents.”
They walked into the town square. Eclectic strains of music drifting from the opened doors of the cafes filled the night air.
“It was classed as a guide for new brides.” She laughed as the photos of women cleaning house in dresses and high heels popped in her mind. “The worst if you were a woman, but the best if you were a man. In order to send her dear husband off to work happy, the writer instructed the poor, ignorant wife to get up one hour earlier than her man. That would give her time to apply her full make-up and be coiffed.” She shook her head. “Can you believe they used that word?”
“A wise author. Obviously, a man.”
She whacked him on the bicep.
“My mom went nuts when she saw the book in my room. She and Gram never got along—too much like one another I guess. Anyhow, Mom finally realized she’d rolled over and played dead long enough. In a wise move, she divorced my father and got her own book, which I thought was hysterical. The new theory was to treat men like puppies. Scratch them behind their ears when they do good and be sure to pet them often. You understand?”
He nodded and pulled them up short when a motor scooter squealed around the corner.
“I don’t hold with either theory. Both are manipulative.”
“And so you have decided to never marry because of these books?” He stopped in the shadows under the arch at the age-old Powder Tower that loomed above the square. His craggy face was masked in disbelief. “Or that you do not deserve to be loved?”
Had she been that apparent?
“You are mistaken, Lacey Blake. You are a woman any man would want in his life forever. Your mind is witty and your heart pure. You are also not as hard as you would like people to believe, even if your mouth does need a fresh soap bar. Never again think you are unworthy of love.”
Her jaw dropped. She was afraid to say anything, let alone think what he might be implying. Was he right? Or was she hearing only what she wanted to hear? Her heart pounded as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. His lips gently touched hers. And she melted.
Dragan held her close, breathing in her scent, afraid he had spoken too much. Afraid he had revealed what he only now had begun to understand.
His childhood had long left him and took with it the dream that someday he would have a partner—a woman to love and honor. A woman who would stimulate his mind and body. Until today only the latter had happened. Arnost had once told him that when he stopped looking such a woman would arrive on his doorstep. And she had. Except she was young and just starting out in a new life thousands of miles from Prague. And opposed to marriage.
Too soon, Lacey tugged free. His arms fell to his sides. Souložit. What an idiot he had become. No one met a woman and got this entangled after a matter of mere hours. Love at first sight was for romance novels. Such a thing did not happen to real people. He had turned into a fool who could not separate his cock from his emotions. What was that Arnost had said last year? Something about removing his brain from his pants and a
nchoring it in his skull. Excellent advice, if only he could learn how to apply it.
She shook his arm and jolted him from his thoughts.
“Sorry. What were you asking?”
“I said, is there something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” Now he had taken to lying. A new thought wove through his mind like an unwanted computer virus. “I do wonder about your Mr. Claymore. Why would he abandon you?”
She huffed and a wisp of vapor drifted in the cold air. “Who knows? He’s an unreliable ass who’s just another mistake in a long line.”
Although he did not like to think of her with other men, common sense reminded him she was young and entitled to a life. Yet…
“Why do you allow yourself to be treated with less value than you are worth?”
Her slender frame went rigid.
“Look, Vic, don’t go getting all psychology on me.” She glanced to him with her lips pressed tight. “Okay? We’re here for a few days of fun and that’s all.”
Resigned that his analytical mind would never provide the right things to say, he took her arm. “Come, we have but a few blocks to the hotel.”
They walked along in silence. He wanted to speak but could not trust himself to remain blasé. A short time later, he held open the glass door.
By all that was holy, how would he survive the next six days with the incomparable Lacey Blake and not reveal his heart?
Damn it. How the hell did the evening turn around on her? One minute, unreal happiness, the next, fucking guilt. Men were a pain in her ass. Especially when they were right.
Lacey walked through the doorway and waved at Tomas. Did the poor schmuck ever get time off to sleep? She headed for the elevator and wanted nothing more than to hit the bed. Alone.
The silent ride up and walk down the hall suited her just fine. She didn’t need any more shit about her fucked-up life. Hell, she lived it, every lousy messy day. At the room, she stood to the side while he slipped the key into the slot and counted the moments until the damned dress came off and she was alone.
“After you.” He extended his hand, and she passed through while shrugging out of her jacket.
A dim glow came from the bedroom like a beacon to a sinking ship. If she could just get to that safe harbor without another slapping wave of introspection, life might take an upward swing.
“Would you like a nightcap or a coffee?”
She stopped dead, weighed down by his repentant tone. She was sunk.
What the hell is it about him that makes me care?
Aside from the fantastic sex, the man had an insight into her that touched her soul.
“No, I’m good,” she said without facing him.
He switched on the small lamp next to the sofa. “I want to apologize.”
No. Damn it. Don’t be nice. Her shoulders slumped. God, she was weak. And hated it.
“I have always measured my words before I spoke them.”
Yes, he kept tight control on himself. Her lips twitched. Except for underwear and sex.
“How did I manage to pull the winning ticket?”
His brow furrowed.
Damn, he’s cute. She shook her head. Why did I ever think he wasn’t handsome?
“What I mean is, what made you speak so freely tonight.”
“I cannot explain well in English. I would make a jumble.” He raked a hand through his hair.
Was that a blush crawling up his neck? She squinted at his collar line, then up to his cheeks where the sexy night stubble framed his carved jaw.
Look away. Look away.
“Wanna give it a go in Czech?” She lowered her gaze to his lips and was mesmerized as he skimmed his tongue across them. That damned familiar tingle started low in her abdomen, then zeroed between her thighs and set fire to her clit.
He cupped her chin, tilted it upward, and spoke softly.
She hadn’t a clue what his words meant except for America and Prague, but by the intense look in his dark eyes they were important.
“Dragan, I don’t know what to say.” At a complete loss, she just stood there and stared at him.
Wanting him.
Needing him.
“Lacey…” He groaned out the word and swooped her in his arms.
Her heart thudded as he kissed her mouth, cheeks, eyelids, and worked his way back to where he began. He teased her willing lips apart with his moist tongue and plunged in, swiping across her teeth and palate as he claimed possession. God, he felt so right. Tasted so good. Her mind was in a whirlwind of sensation, and her body craved him inside her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, never wanting to let go, and returned his kiss with her soul. All she cared about was this moment. This man.
A shiver ran through her as the sound of her zipper, traveling south, echoed in her ear. She lowered her arms and moved back. The black silk pooled to the floor. With ease, she stepped over the material, excited to stand before him in no more than her thigh-highs and spike heels.
“You are beautiful.”
Her nipples pebbled at his raspy words.
“So, do you like a little kink?” Her thoughts turned to the spanking he had promised earlier.
Chapter Eight
“I admire beauty in all its purest forms.” He yanked his bowtie loose until the tails draped around his thick neck.
Her heart stuttered with the incredibly sexy action.
“Please pour me a coffee.” He pointed to the low table with a silver service in the middle.
“I’ll just get a robe.” Disappointment added itself to the long list of intense emotions that flooded though her. She turned toward the bedroom, but before she could move his fingers wrapped around her forearm.
“Stay as you are.”
Her heart thudded. Eager to see where they were headed, she swayed to the side of the low table. Her breasts quivered with each step. Light tingles peaked her nipples as he tossed his jacket to a chair and made himself comfortable on the couch.
In a languid movement she bent at the waist, her ass in the air, and glanced over her shoulder. “How do you want it?”
“Whatever appeals to you.”
Her knees weakened as his smoldering gaze traveled along her naked body.
The silver pot weighed a ton in her shaking hand. Coffee droplets splashed onto the saucer and tray as his fingers skimmed her calf. Maybe if her body wasn’t melting faster than a chocolate bar in the hot sun, she could keep her mind on a simple function.
“These are a remarkable invention.” His hand trailed higher, up to the back of her thigh, and stopped at the elastic band on her nylons. He traced the curve of her butt cheek, caressing the skin as he glided closer to her center, and skimmed the sensitive flesh around her asshole. “You have very soft skin.”
Her gasp filled the quiet room when he sweetly placed a moist kiss on her butt cheek. Instinctively she spread her shaky legs. Lord, she needed him inside her.
His broad hand stroked over her hip then massaged its way to her abdomen where he stopped. He groaned as he toyed with her dangling rubies and traced her navel with his thumb. She gritted her teeth when he caressed her breast and skimmed a smooth finger against her aching nipple. Each touch elevated her awareness. Her body heat.
He scooped both breasts into his large hand and stroked the rigid points, then pinched and tugged until she almost begged for mercy to let her come.
More sensations roiled through her as his other hand worked her body into a frenzy, separating her wet folds, tracing the narrow space to her throbbing clit.
One finger slid into her, gliding against her wall, then slipped away. Soon he filled her with two fingers that stroked higher and sent a cascade of shivers through her fiery body. She clutched the table edge, h
er breasts juddering.
Her hips jerked. Her vagina went into a spasm and clasped his fingers to her.
“Do you like this?”
His whispered words tickled across her heated skin.
All she managed was a gurgle as he thrust higher. Too soon, he withdrew his talented hand and a wave of frustration crashed over her. She gulped, a feeble attempt to regain oxygen and not cry out from the loss.
He stroked her wet pussy and traced her needy clit with his thumb. Sparks shot through her, the desire more intense than before. Three fingers thrust into her.
Rotating.
Plunging.
Plunging.
Rotating.
“Come for me, Lacey.”
His accented words, thick with desire, pushed her closer to the edge.
“I want to make you happy.”
She ground against his hand.
Faster.
Harder.
Pressure built.
Swirling sensations careened through her rigid body.
Stars, beacons, streaks of gold and red flashed behind her scrunched eyelids until her legs gave way.
His arm caught her. He pulled her tight to his chest and kissed the nape of her neck.
In a few moments, her mind and body returned to the real world.
Czech Mate Page 5