Joy swept away his anxiety. Habit kept him clenching his duffel full of weapons as he nodded at the Secret Service agents and then stepped through the door.
Chapter Fourteen
Tashya had never done anything so bold in her life. After her deception, she half expected Hunter to rush in with his gun in hand. Not for one second did she fear he’d fire the weapon without cause. Hunter was methodical. He always thought before he made a move.
Tashya had planned this seduction with the care of a general. The Secret Service agents outside had orders that the prince and princess were not to be disturbed. She’d ordered finger foods and wine, then told all the servants to leave. With the water in the main pool steaming, a stack of plush towels and fragrant soap on hand, she’d decided that this was the most sensual room in the palace. Hunter wouldn’t be able to resist her here where she intended to show him how much she loved him. She’d already washed the grime from her skin by taking a quick shower. Wearing only a towel, she waited impatiently.
Hunter strode through the door. As always, alert and aware of his surroundings, he perused the lush bath area, taking in the indoor garden, the marble likenesses of ancient gods and goddesses painted in rich colors and standing every few paces under the domed skylight before his gaze settled on her. His eyes flared with an intensity that made her breath hitch halfway to her throat. She wanted this man, not just for the moment but for forever.
“Hi, Princess.” He set his duffel down by the thickly padded loungers and came to her, his eyes locking with hers. “You said you needed me?”
“Ah, yes.” She pointed to a stool. “I need you to sit right there.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A smile teased his lips but didn’t quite break out.
He did as she asked. His eyes were now on the same level as the towel knotted at her breasts. One twist was all that kept him from all of her. But she shoved the delicious thought away. And unbuttoned his dirty shirt, revealing his magnificent shoulders, powerful chest and classic washboard abdominal muscles.
Her mouth watered. Her palms itched to explore. Finally she was almost free to touch, to caress, to linger, to show him how much she cared.
She licked her bottom lip with a touch of awe and nerves. “Ever taken a Turkish bath?”
He shook his head and his voice came out low and husky. “Not like this one.”
“We have our own version in Vashmira. It’s a combination of the best the Romans, the Turks and the Japanese have to offer.”
He snagged her around the waist, catching her off guard and lazily tugging her toward him. “Then we won’t be breaking tradition if we start with a kiss.”
Without waiting for her reply, he tilted back his head and nibbled a path up her neck, nuzzled her ear, shooting exquisite tingles that made her bubble with happiness. Surely he wouldn’t be kissing her if he didn’t intend to make love to her?
But he had kissed her before and then pulled back, leaving her yearning for what she couldn’t have. Him. All of him.
As his mouth claimed hers, she vowed this time would be different. For a moment he melted away her doubts with his kiss, took away her qualms and banished any thought of failure.
Somewhere as an afterthought, she knew she was losing control. Not a good idea when she wanted to be the one to push him over the edge, to convince him they belonged together.
She pulled back with a hard gasp for air. Without even taking a moment to catch her breath, she gestured to his slacks. “Take those off.”
“Okay.” The gleam was still in his eyes and he was watching her now like a hungry man with a feast in front of him. Hungry wasn’t good enough. Before she was done, he would be starving. Then she’d feed him the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted.
She picked up a towel and slung it at him, gesturing for him to wrap it around his waist. His marvelous reflexes had him catching it, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“I need to draw some water,” was all she said.
While he shucked his slacks, she filled two brass buckets at the tap, but she made no attempt to hide her interest in the lean lines of his muscles. Evenly proportioned, his sculpted body bore several jagged scars. She had the urge to kiss away the old wounds.
Not yet.
She filled both buckets, the first with warm water, the second with cool, then returned to him. “Close your eyes.”
She tipped the warm bucket of water over him, slicking back his thick, dark hair, sluicing his bronzed flesh, appreciating the path the final trickles took while she imagined tracing that same path first with her fingers and then with her tongue.
She drizzled shampoo into her hands and threaded her fingers through his hair. Taking her time, she scrubbed every inch of his scalp. He kept his eyes closed, his head tipped back to keep the soap from his eyes, and she took the opportunity to admire the sharp angles of his cheeks and the stubborn jut of his jaw. Most of all she enjoyed being with him, sharing this moment, hoping for many more romantic baths like this one.
He might have refused to make love to her before, but this time, she would have her way with him, show him how much he meant to her. He’d kept her frustrated for days. But now it was her turn to give him a little of his own back. She didn’t intend to just incite his desires. She didn’t intend to just elicit another declaration of his love. She wanted him wild and crazy for her. She wanted to be irresistible. She wanted their lovemaking to be so good that he would never leave.
“Mmm.” His tone poured over her, rich as Swiss chocolate. “If you tire of being a princess, I could give you a recommendation as a bath attendant,” he teased.
In answer, she poured the cool water over him. He didn’t even twitch a muscle. The man had the most stubbornly frustrating self-control.
But she was well prepared for stubbornness. She picked up a sponge and the sandalwood soap. She took one more look at his smooth back and tossed the sponge. Her fingers and palms wouldn’t be denied the pleasure of touching him for one moment longer.
She began with her fingers on his neck, appreciating the powerful cords that tapered to his shoulders, slowly soaping his skin, wondering if someday he’d trust her enough to let her shave his strong face—but not today. Her hands were shaking too much.
His skin was warm enough to stoke her own desires. Yet he held as still as a smoking volcano, seemingly unaffected by her ministrations—until she heard his soft grunt of pleasure, which warned her that he might be motionless but he was ready to burn.
However, she wanted spontaneous combustion.
Skirting around the stool, she gave the same care to his chest, lathering the soft T of hair that dusted the taut flesh between his nipples, which narrowed then disappeared into the folds of the towel wrapped at his hips.
She caressed his skin at edge of the towel, then kneeled and began again at his feet. Soaping his toes, his arches, his ankles, she took her time, admiring the muscular cords in his calves. Tentatively, she stroked his thighs. A quiver in a muscle there told her he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared and gave her the courage to go on.
She stood, pulled him to his feet and then, with trembling but determined fingers, removed the towel at his hips.
His erection revealed that he wanted her, but she ignored it and soaped the small of his back and his firm buttocks. Damn but the man had a tight ass. She lingered there, appreciating the tight curves, the flanks that reminded her of her best Thoroughbred stallions.
She ached to press her breasts against his back, and decided there was no reason not to lose her towel. With a flick of her wrist, she released the knot and let the towel pool at her feet. Then she leaned naked into him, sliding against his soapy wet back, reveling in the feel of flesh against flesh, his hard masculinity to her soft femininity.
“Princess…”
“Hmm?” She reached around his waist to soap his groin and sex. When her hands closed around him softly and sensuously, he released a groan of pleasure. She lingered, leaving not one inch of him un
touched, taking enjoyment in the rough rasp of his breathing, until finally, he turned to gather her into his arms.
She stepped away, taking her time, allowing him to see her, but his eyes latched onto hers, holding her immobile and allowing her to perceive his need.
Good.
She’d fully intended to delay their ultimate union, to wash the soap from his body and to drag him into the steamy tub for a long soak. She had him captured for the entire afternoon and intended to captivate him, as well.
“You’re playing with fire, Princess.”
She filled another bucket with water. “This should cool you down.”
She wanted him to simmer, then she’d bring him back with a slow burn. She didn’t toss the water at him, but trickled it over him slowly, cleansing away the suds, oh, so slowly, while she took every opportunity to brush against him with her bare flesh.
“You’re enjoying torturing me, aren’t you?” he asked her, reaching for her waist, allowing her to slip away as she moved around him.
“You’re satisfying a need that even I never knew I had,” she admitted.
His absolute control had made her bold, had made her hungry to see how far she could push him. She just hadn’t realized how his vibrant response would enflame her own desires. She felt like a tightly strung filly, muscles gathered and bunched and about to leap into the unknown. Yet she was eager to experience the runaway emotions, haunted by the knowledge that if she didn’t take this jump, she might regret it for the rest of her life. So she gathered up the boldness inside her and used it to please them both.
She needed to know if the spark between them would simply flare and burn out or ignite a fire that could keep her warm for a lifetime. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation and then settled to a lustful hope.
“You’ll be a lot more satisfied before we’re done, Princess.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it.” She playfully picked up a towel, wondering if he’d stand for letting her pat him dry—just for the fun of it—before they took their bath together.
But then she didn’t know how much longer she could wait for his touch. It seemed as if she’d been waiting all her life for Hunter to hold her, to caress her, to make love to her. Despite his declaration of love, she feared she didn’t mean as much to him as he did to her.
She patted his face dry, and he stood still. Before she could blink, he slipped his arms around her waist and under her knees, lifting her until his lips captured hers once more.
As he carried her, she sensed the decision in him. He was done waiting.
Or so she’d thought.
He seemed in no hurry, keeping his mouth on hers. He carried her toward the bathing pool as if she weighed no more than a feather. She expected him to walk into the pool, but he moved to one of the lounging pallets.
“I can’t wait, Princess. If you intend to change your mind—”
“Not a chance.”
Gently, he laid her down, reached into his duffel and extracted a silver foil packet. She took it from him, tore it open and carefully unrolled the protection over him. He might not have intended to make love to her this afternoon, but she could have guaranteed he wouldn’t fail to protect her.
She tugged him to her, but he didn’t budge. Instead he plucked a leaf from a nearby fern and trailed it across her neck and shoulders, shooting prickles of sensation over her.
Frustrated that he wasn’t yet using his fingers, she nevertheless sighed in delight. His gentle feathering, the barest caress of the leaf, was only a temporary delay. She would have his hands on her soon.
“You have beautiful skin,” he murmured, twirling the fern around her breast, never quite allowing it to stroke her hardening nipples.
As if reading her mind, his tongue replaced the leaf, his lips nipping, a promise of much more to come. She arched her back, seeking more heat, but he simply dipped his head, swirling his tongue lazily over her belly.
He explored all of her, tasted all of her before she demanded that he fill her. She wanted him inside her when she peaked. When he didn’t immediately comply, she rolled him to his back and straddled his hips.
She lowered herself onto him slowly, watched his eyes blaze with need, heard his gasp for air, luxuriated in the buck of his hips that told her he wanted to pump into her hard and fast.
She gave him slow and easy. Until he reached between her thighs and taunted her, teased her with slick fingers and an easy touch.
Despite her intentions to go slowly, her hips moved at their own pace, picking up speed. He let her have her way for a while, until with a growl of need he clasped her hips in his hands and thrust into her deep, hard. Fiercely. No holding back.
Blood roared in her ears. She’d wanted to watch his face as he spilled inside her. But the sensations were too primal. Then he was taking her with him over the edge, and she exploded, grasping his shoulders, holding him tight, letting her glorious climax spin her out of control.
When she finally regained some control over her thoughts, she realized that she’d collapsed on top of him. While her breathing still came in harsh pants, she found herself held by his strong arms and cuddled against his chest, his heart thudding against her ear.
And she inexorably knew her own mind. She loved this man. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, wanted him more than she desired to remain in Vashmira, wanted him enough to give up her title and follow him wherever he decided to go.
Oh, damn. She’d never expected to feel this way, never realized it would irrevocably change her.
That she could give up her home, her country and her family for Hunter stunned her to the depths of her soul. She hadn’t expected her love for him to overwhelm everything she’d set out to accomplish for herself.
If she gave up who and what she was for him today, could she respect herself tomorrow?
Physically satiated, mentally confused, she lifted her head, needing to see the expression in Hunter’s eyes. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before, as if he wanted to hold this memory close to his heart forever.
Still, she was unprepared for his words. “Marry me, Princess.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hunter hadn’t known until this exact moment, as he remained deep inside her, that he was going to propose. But the words seemed right. The sentiment was right. They belonged together.
Yet while his own words stunned him, she looked shocked, scared and very much unprepared to make any kind of life-altering decision.
He eased himself out from under her, sensing that she needed not only some time but some space. Experienced enough to know his own mind, to know that their love was special enough to keep forever, he realized that she had yet to reach the very same conclusion.
Using a faucet and bucket, he rinsed and then returned to her side with a washcloth. As tenderly as if she were a baby, he cleansed away their perspiration, then carried her into the pool, very aware that she had yet to give him an answer.
“What are you thinking?” he asked gently, prepared to counter her every argument.
“I would be willing to live with you in your country, but I can’t picture myself just sitting around waiting for you to return from one of your missions—”
She hadn’t understood. That she would even consider leaving Vashmira for him floored him, humbled him, and gave him hope that they would one day wed.
“Whoa. Stop. I’m not asking you to move to my country.”
She leaned her head against the edge of the marble tub, let her feet float to the surface. “Long-distance marriages don’t work. What about your next assignment? Could you request to work in Europe?”
“I can find other work…in Vashmira.” Her startled gaze flew to meet his. “Work where I won’t be risking my life every day.” He paused, then went for the whole ball of wax. “You once asked me what I wanted beyond my next mission and I didn’t answer. But now I know. I want children, Princess. Our children. I want to raise them with you. That means being toge
ther—every day.”
“You would stay here? You wouldn’t miss your family and the excitement of your work?”
He shook his head. “Not if I have you. My sisters and parents can visit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve never taken a mission for the excitement, but out of duty, because my country asked it of me and because I was good at my job. I’ve done enough. Now, it’s someone else’s turn.”
She could continue her work for women’s rights, but what about his work? “What would you do in Vashmira?”
“Reorganize palace security, for starters. Update your military technology. Help bring Vashmira’s communications systems into the new millennium. I have an idea or two.”
In truth, he was brimming with ideas, with plans, with hope for a new life with the woman he loved.
“I only see one problem,” she told him.
“What?”
“Nicholas has always planned for me to make a politically advantageous marriage.”
Hunter kissed her on the forehead. “Let me deal with the king.”
TASHYA DRESSED IN clean clothes while Hunter continued to soak in the tub. She might be intoxicated with the possibility of marrying Hunter, but she knew better than to let Hunter speak to Nicholas before she warned him. Nicholas didn’t like surprises, and she couldn’t take the chance that the two strong men wouldn’t enter into a power struggle that would dash all her hopes. Her marriage needed to be negotiated delicately. As much as she trusted Hunter, she needed to break the news to Nicholas or he would be hurt.
However, she saw no reason to argue with Hunter when she could simply talk to her brother privately first. She supposed some women might think her actions slightly duplicitous, however most women hadn’t grown up in a palace. She understood all too well that politics and Vashmira’s well-being governed every move Nicholas made. He’d even accepted an arranged marriage to a stranger to solidify his political ties to the West. Falling in love with his bride had been a bonus.
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