by Kim Lawrence
He winced at the sound of the door slamming.
Eyes squeezed closed, he lifted one of the glasses he had filled to his lips. The fizz slid smoothly down his throat but didn’t produce any lightening of his mood as the bubbles seeped into his bloodstream.
With a curse he slammed the glass down, before he began to pace across the room. He was furious with her for being unforgivably right. He exhaled, his chest lifting as he came to a halt, eyes closed, a low grunt of self-directed anger rumbling in his chest.
She was right and he had never felt more ashamed of himself. What the hell was wrong with him? He had responded to her confidence like the sort of narrow-minded bigot he despised. She wouldn’t be doing any confiding in him again in a hurry.
Maybe that was why he’d done it, as another way to push her away?
How many times had he sneered when his father had adopted a similar attitude? Truth was disposable; unfairness could always be spun in your favour.
After a moment he walked towards the recently closed door.
The room was empty. One lamp beside the bed was switched on, illuminating the darkness. He could hear the sound of running water in the bathroom. Calling Sabrina’s name, he walked across the room. The bathroom door was open and she stood barefooted in a silk slip at the marble washbasin, her hands under the running tap as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
‘Sabrina.’
She reacted to the sound of her name like a startled deer and spun around, wary-eyed, to face him. Their eyes connected and her chin lifted to a haughty angle, despite the blue-veined pulse he could see leaping at the base of her creamy throat. ‘Do you mind knocking before you come into my room?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact I do, and I’m damned if I’m going to start off this marriage with sulks and closed doors.’
She switched off the water and stalked past him. ‘Fine, next time I’ll lock it. And I’m not sulking.’
‘I’m sorry...’
She had been ready to counter anything he threw at her except that...an apology! It crossed her mind she had misheard him. ‘What did you say?’
‘I’m sorry. That was...’ He hefted a sigh and dragged a hand back and forth across his already mussed hair. ‘I’m so busy pretending to be the Prince everyone wants that it’s hard to switch off.’
That was the way he operated. He focused on the task at hand. It had never mattered what the task was; he gave all the same commitment and he didn’t carry baggage to weigh him down. Because he had shrugged off the accident it had not even crossed his mind to consider that it might not be so easy for Sabrina.
Her dark eyes widened. ‘You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.’
He shrugged, an ironic half-smile quivering the corners of his mouth. ‘Only myself maybe. You must be aware that people are waiting for me to fail?’
She shifted uneasily, feeling an unexpected stab of sympathy for Sebastian as she remembered the comments earlier that day of his father’s aide.
Her fingers playing with the thin spaghetti strap of her silk slip drew his eyes to the smooth curve of her shoulder.
‘Well, you have worked pretty hard at establishing yourself as the Playboy Prince, haven’t you?’
He gave a hard grin, the gleam in his blue eyes and the flash of white teeth making her stomach flip. ‘That was not all hard work—some of it came naturally. Look, I am not going to pretend I am something I am not. I am not a romantic...which, considering our circumstances, might not in itself be a drawback. I was never looking for a soulmate—’
‘Or a wife.’
He blinked; she could see that her comment had caught him unawares. ‘True, but marriage is a contract and I understand contracts.’
But not love.
Sebastian didn’t believe in love and maybe that made it easier than believing in it as she did, and knowing that it was something she could never have.
Don’t think about the things you can’t have, Brina, she told herself. Focus on the things you can have, the things you can achieve...you can have children... Something she had always considered one of the greatest gifts a woman could be blessed with. Beyond that she had allowed herself to believe that she might be in a position one day to have influence on things she cared about: health care, women’s education... She might be able to leave a legacy even if she could not have love.
‘People aren’t always looking. Luis wasn’t looking and he found his soulmate.’
‘I am not Luis, Sabrina.’
‘No, you didn’t run, but you wanted to!’ she countered, knowing the accusation was unfair but unable to repress the great sense of frustration she felt.
‘I am not a romantic. I do not believe that I will be walking down a street and be struck by the emotional version of a lightning bolt when I find my soulmate. You regret that you have not had your time out there kissing frogs and waiting for one to turn into a prince. The fact is, the only Prince you will have is me...but I promise you, cara,’ he continued, his voice softening to a low, throaty, toe-curling purr as he took another step towards her, ‘those butterflies you spoke of do not require a soulmate. You can feel them. You will feel them.’
Heart racing, her blood pounding, she quivered but didn’t evade his hand as his fingers trailed down her cheek, the light touch sparking nerve endings to life before his hand fell away.
‘You sound very confident.’
‘There has been an attraction between us from the first moment we met. I really don’t want our married life to start with closed doors. How about we push those doors open?’
Their eyes locked, neither spoke; the touch of his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder made her jump. She moved to pull the strap of her slip up but his free hand caught her wrist.
Her heart was thudding a wild drumbeat in her chest as her glance moved from the fingers circling her wrist to his big hand, brown against her skin. She swallowed and looked back up into the burning blue of his eyes and she felt her resistance slipping away like sand through her fingers.
She managed a sensible smile, hard when he was close, so impossibly male. ‘Sebastian, this is not a good—’
His grin sizzled away her sensible thoughts.
‘To hell with good!’ he growled throatily, then, still holding her gaze, he let go of her hand and took hold of the hem of her slip, which he pulled over her head in one slick motion.
She didn’t move.
The sexual tension had reached screaming point in one slam of a heartbeat.
His hands followed the path of his eyes as they slid down her neck, over her shoulders then down to her quivering breasts. His fingers splaying to cup them, as his thumbs teased the hot, aching peaks.
Her eyes squeezed tight shut as she stood, head back, hands clenched into white-knuckled fists as she focused on the incredible sensations coursing through her body, opening only when he spread his hands under her ribcage around her waist.
He bent his head and covered her mouth, the kiss slow and sensual. She could see the sensuous glitter in his eyes through the screen of his long lashes. When he pulled back, desire, hot and fierce, roared inside her.
He rubbed his nose up against hers, blowing wisps of hair from her eyes before he moved in again. This time the kisses were not slow, they were hard and hungry.
Still kissing her on her lips, her neck, her eyes...everywhere, he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. Lying there, she watched as he stripped, holding her eyes as he fought his way out of his clothes, revealing a lean and muscled body, his golden skin dusted with strategic drifts of dusky hair.
And he was really, really aroused.
The image of primitive male beauty sent a fresh surge of breathless excitement through Sabrina’s body. One hand on the mattress beside her, he bent forward. Greedy, she looped her
arms around his neck and dragged him down onto the bed beside her.
The first skin-to-skin contact drew a shocked cry of pleasure from her throat. His skin was like silk, his body hard, the lean strength of it different and intensely thrilling.
His hands moved in long sweeping movements down her sides, her quivering thighs, before moving to her bottom. He kneaded the tight flesh with his fingers, dragging her in hard against his body as she pushed up and into him, opening her mouth to the invasion of his tongue. Wanting to open herself to him so much at one level it scared her, but the fear was lost in the need; the deep, driving, relentless throb of need that had invaded every cell of her body.
‘Hell, Sabrina!’ he breathed against her mouth.
‘Hell, back,’ she teased, kissing the scar on his face, letting her tongue run down the length of it before framing his face between her small hands and saying fiercely, ‘I hated you hurting.’
He groaned. He was hurting now!
Was it always like this, or was this hot make-up sex? he wondered as he slid down her body. His thought processes stopped as he fitted his mouth hungrily to one perfect tight nipple and felt her moan and arch under him.
He tipped her over, sliding up her body until they were lying side by side. Her skin was hot to the touch and felt like silk...he couldn’t believe how soft.
‘Incredible,’ he murmured as he slid a hand down behind her knee and hooked her leg across his hip. She bent her head and pressed her face into his chest, kissing the hair-roughened skin.
He slid his fingers into her hair and dragged her face up to his, then he slid a hand between her legs, his fingers moving through the light curls into her body.
Sabrina ached for his touch. There was nothing outside the ache; it consumed her totally, hit everywhere she moved against his hand, her breath coming in a series of uneven, shallow little gasps as his fingers slid along her delicate folds and deep into her.
Quite suddenly he rolled away and lay on his back, gasping like a man coming up for air. He turned his head and looked at her. ‘I can’t take much more of this.’
She gave a slow, slumberous smile, the primal need pounding through her making her bold, as she placed her hand in the middle of his chest, watching his face as she moved her hand lower.
She watched him gasp as her fingers tightened slowly around him.
He withstood the torture for a few seconds until his control broke. With a low growl that rose up from some place deep inside him, he tipped her onto her back and parted her legs and positioned himself between them. He watched her face as he thrust slowly, deeply into her.
Then deeper, as he begged her to take him all and she wrapped her long legs around him and closed her eyes, whispering his name over and over like a litany as they moved together, breath mingled, touching everywhere, heartbeats in sync, as close as two people could be.
She felt it coming, she pushed towards it, every muscle in her body tensed and waiting, and when the white-hot rush came it was so strong it pushed her to the edge of consciousness.
* * *
When she fought her way back from the blissful place he had taken her to Sebastian was still lying across her, breathing hard, then with a groan he levered himself off her.
‘I was rough... Should I say sorry?’
She touched a finger to his lips.
He looked into her lovely face and felt a swell of possessive tenderness.
‘It was perfect, you were...’ She caught his hand, her eyes flickering down his lean, muscled form, before lifting it to her lips. ‘I suppose practice really does make perfect.’
It wasn’t until Sabrina spoke that he realised tonight was not something he had ever practised for; what they had shared had been nothing like anything he had ever experienced before. He could not compare like with like because there was no like.
‘Stay?’ she slurred sleepily, her eyelids flickering but not opening. It was fine by him. Sebastian could barely keep his eyes open anyway.
He slid down and drew her into his body. She settled there with the trust of a kitten and gave a gentle sigh.
CHAPTER TEN
THE DAWN CHORUS was singing when he opened his eyes and Sabrina was still in his arms, her soft body warm, face pressed against his chest. Her hair, lying in a honeyed stream down her slender back, was tangled.
The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile as he experienced a swelling surge of possessiveness that was outside his experience and a million miles from his objectivity. His smile flattened and then reasserted itself as she gave a little sigh and burrowed deeper into his chest. He didn’t want to recognise the tenderness that tightened in his chest as he thought about last night; the sex had been mind-blowing. His eyes darkened as he remembered the moment she had taken the initiative, tentative at first as she’d begun to explore his body with her hands and mouth, and then with more confidence as she’d learned to drive him to the brink and bring him back. Her instincts were incredible, her lack of inhibitions a delight.
It was just sex. So why, asked the voice in his head, had it felt like no sex he had ever known? Did a marriage licence really make such a difference? He had never been a woman’s first before—maybe that was part of it. The fact that everything was new and fresh for her and her delight and wonder...her hunger made it new and fresh for him.
He lifted a strand of hair from her face and leaned in, breathing in the scent of her warm skin until the ringing phone in the other room reminded him that this respite had been temporary.
He eased his arm slowly from under her shoulders, and, pulling the sheet up over her naked body, he slipped from the bed. On his way to the door he grabbed one of the bathrobes that were hung up and closed the door quietly behind him. The phone had stopped ringing and it took him a couple of minutes to locate it to where it had slipped from his pocket. A glance at the screen revealed the identity of the person behind the five missed calls.
With a sigh he punched in the number. ‘Hello, Father.’
* * *
Sabrina fought her way through several layers of wispy sleep before she surfaced, not quite sure where she was or why she ached in muscles that she didn’t know she had.
She opened her eyes and encountered the cobalt-blue stare of the man who was standing at the foot of the bed sipping coffee.
Her husband!
Her lover!
She cut short her sinuous little stretch, sucked in a taut breath and sat up, dragging the sheet with her.
‘What time is it?’
‘Early.’
‘You’re...’ Not naked, she thought, taking in his suit and feeling a little stab of disappointment.
‘A meeting scheduled for tomorrow has been brought forward.’
‘What meeting?’
He looked surprised by the question. ‘The geological team who did the new survey are available to answer some questions. I have to fly back.’
She blinked, her brain still not working at full capacity. ‘How long do I have to get ready?’
‘No need for that. Take your time. I’m flying out.’
A cold, resentful feeling in the pit of her stomach expanded. She focused on that and not the hurt. ‘Without me.’
‘You are not missing much, I promise.’ He put down his coffee cup and got to his feet. ‘Depending on when the meeting ends, we will meet up tonight.’
Was that shorthand for to have sex? She didn’t know, but she was concerned by how much she wanted it to be. Hell, one night and she was already an addict! It was no longer a surprise to her that her husband had left a swathe of broken hearts across Europe.
‘Last night I...’ She paused, unable to find the words to tell him how right it had felt without sounding...besotted.
‘We are expected to make a baby or two. I think we might enjoy
it.’
She brought her lashes down in a concealing sweep. It wasn’t what he’d said, it was the realisation that she had wanted him to say something more, to feel something more.
Because she felt more, Sabrina realised, she wanted more, she...oh, hell, she had fallen in love with her Playboy Prince, but he was so much more. Pain and shock seeped through her, because for him she would always be a duty, even if it was one he enjoyed. At least when the lights were out and no others duties demanded his attention.
She was his wife but not his love.
‘Are you all right?’
She dodged his eyes and pulled the sheet all the way up to her chin. Was this what being in love felt like? Nerve endings raw and exposed? The stomach churning? The need to cry until your eyes were red and puffy?
If so she was amazed it was so popular, that people actively looked for it. She’d had flu that felt better than being in love.
‘Fine.’
Sabrina was a very bad liar, but, rather than challenge the very obvious untruth, Sebastian accepted the statement at face value with a shrug of his muscled shoulders because—Because it’s easier and you’re a coward, Seb.
‘I’m not really human until I’ve had my first coffee.’
The brightness in her voice sent a knife surge of guilt through him as he lowered his lean frame onto the edge of the bed. ‘I know.’
Eyes dark, wide and wary lifted very slowly to his face as she began to shake her head. ‘No, it isn’t...’
‘You’re dreading moving into your golden cage... I do understand.’
Her dark lashes came down in a fluttering curtain across her eyes; she gave something that sounded like a laugh before raising them again.
‘Palace life is restricting, but...’ He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter how many times he told himself she knew what she was letting herself in for, that they were both victims of this situation, he still felt guilty as hell. ‘Our apartments will be separate from my father and you...we...must...’