Honeymoon With a Prince (Royal Scandals)

by Burnham, Nicole

  No, they were not safe at all. He more than she.

  With a kick, he sent his slacks sliding across the floor, grabbed her hands and tumbled her backward into the bed, then covered her body with his own. Her dress remained bunched around her waist, but a quick flick of his wrist divested her of her panties.

  In the dim light, he caught a glimpse of plain, white cotton before he flung them over her head to the floor on the opposite side of the bed. In the recesses of his mind, it occurred to him it wasn’t what a woman wore when she expected to bring a man home with her, and she’d changed into the sundress knowing they were heading out to dinner. She’d meant it when she said she didn’t sleep with men on the first date. But if she noticed him noticing her utilitarian undergarments, there was no embarrassment. Instead, she sighed and arched back against the fluffy pillows as he bent to take one nipple in his mouth and caressed the other with his the pad of his thumb.

  She wrapped one lean leg around him, then her hands came to his rear, trapping him. As he shifted his attention to her other breast, her hands came up, exploring the bare skin of his back. Realization hit him at the same moment her fingertips encountered the rough, scarred skin on his left side. He’d been so caught up in the moment—the woman—he’d forgotten what she’d discover on his naked body.

  “Does this hurt?” Her voice came to him in the dark, using the same words the field medic had as he’d explored the deep wounds and charred skin only a few months ago, but with a completely different emotion packed into them.

  “No.”

  He’d unintentionally bitten out the word. No one besides the medic and the French army doctors and nurses who’d treated him had seen the full extent of the damage since the day he’d sustained the injury. It was his to bear. He didn’t want it—or the circumstances that lead to the slashed, burned flesh—to become the subject of public scrutiny.

  Rather than take offense, Kelly seemed to take his gruff response as an indication he wanted to focus on the task at hand. She continued to explore his back, his arms, his shoulders, until she reached his nape. Gentle pressure at the back of his neck signaled him to shift higher to kiss her once more. She moved as if to roll over and pin him beneath her, but he stopped her with a hand to her thigh.

  “No.” This time the word was said gently. “I have a better idea.”

  It no longer mattered how deeply he craved the release that came with a night of wild, unbridled sex. It didn’t matter that this was nothing more than a one-night stand, a memory he’d tuck away in a corner of his mind to remember with fondness later. More than anything, he wanted to satisfy her. To see the look on her face as she came undone, to know that he’d been the cause.

  Still cradling her thigh with in one hand, he found her warm, wet folds with the other. For a moment he merely cupped her, savoring the heat, then slowly he parted her and eased his fingers inside, then up, finding her most sensitive spots, drawing a muffled moan from her as she turned her face toward the bedcovers and lifted her body to meet his hand.

  The sight of her building toward a climax drove him harder, first with his fingers, then his tongue. Sucking, licking, spinning both of them out of control. He felt her peak, coil, then let go in a shuddering, all encompassing release that sent her fists into the bedding as shockwaves ripped through her.

  Unwilling to wait for her to catch her breath, he repositioned himself, felt the warm entrance to her body with the very tip of his cock, then plunged into her with an unabashed groan of sheer pleasure. Her hands went to his back, his shoulders, his hair—she seemed to want to hold him everywhere at once—as she rocked into his thrusts and cried out his name.

  For the first time in weeks, possibly months, he felt alive. His skin burned to her touch, his blood pumped through his veins as if on fire, and an overwhelming sense of awe and elation filled him as he drove into her, again and again and again, reveling in the tight heat of her body. The light streamed through the sheer white curtains to strike her hair as it splayed across the white bedding, making her look ethereal even as they made love with a passion that bordered on violence.

  Dear God, but she was beautiful.

  She arched against him, then reached to her side, pressing one palm into the padded headboard for leverage as the fingers of her other hand dug into his back, driving him on. He fought for purchase as they moved in rhythm. Sensing his need, Kelly wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, holding him fast, encouraging him to take what he needed. Their movements were old as time, as inherent to their species as breathing. But it had never, ever been quite like this. This was holy grail sex.

  One-night stands weren’t supposed to be holy grail sex.

  Then again, he’d never had a one-night stand.

  He drove harder, as if the fire building in his core would slip away. The room shifted below him. Kelly’s stunned eyes met his and a surprised squeak escaped her as the mattress slid sideways off the box spring and they careened headfirst over the side of the bed.

  They landed atop the mattress with a whump.

  Somehow, Massimo managed to stay buried within her. After a heartbeat of silence, laughter erupted from deep within her, shaking her entire torso.

  “You okay?” she managed. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes as she gasped for breath. For what she’d paid for the villa, it really should have a better bed.

  “Are you? I just landed on you.”

  “I’m perfectly fine. Actually…that felt pretty damned good.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.” She raised her head to plant an erotic kiss on his mouth at the same time she flexed around him. “In fact, I might call it out of the ordinary.”

  He smiled down at her, marveling at how a simple afternoon escape on his fishing boat turned into such a memorable evening. “You” —he traced her cheek, then paused with a finger to her lips— “seem to have a way of pushing a man to do extraordinary things.”

  Wickedness lit her eyes. She grabbed his finger and moved it aside. “Pushing. Really? That’s the word you choose?”

  He responded by doing exactly that. Within seconds, any hint of humor faded. Her thighs tightened around his waist as he trapped her knee against him with his arm, holding her fast while he moved within her, then bent his head to touch his tongue to the sweet column of her neck. She lifted her hips, encouraging him to resume their rhythm. He heard himself moan, felt Kelly’s knuckles grind against his lower back. Urgency drove him harder. He smacked into her while she rose to meet him.

  In an attempt to slow himself down, he lowered his forehead to hers, then grabbed her hand with his, interlacing their fingers. The motion had the opposite effect. Rather than slowing him down, suddenly, their connection felt more intimate.

  They squeezed each other’s hands at the same time. His eyes drifted shut. He pressed his lips to her hair, relished the choked sound of her labored breathing as they both teetered on the edge.

  He wanted so much more than a quick release.

  “Massimo, please, Massimo,” she pleaded, then a moment later she convulsed around him. But he continued to fly, his mind whirling as he approached his own climax. He knew he was out of control. He didn’t care. A second wave gripped her and she let out the most carnal, intimate sound he’d ever heard, one that sent him spilling into her and gasping for breath as he responded with a deep moan of his own. Dizzying, explosive pleasure throbbed through him before he finally collapsed on top of her, spent and deeply satisfied. The very surface of his skin seemed to vibrate.

  Best. Damned. Sex. Of. My. Life.

  His face crushed into the mattress near her shoulder, but no energy remained with which to lift his head. It didn’t matter. He had nowhere to go. Kelly’s legs remained wrapped around him, holding him in place as her chest rose and fell with the effort to recapture her breath. One of her arms sprawled across his back. His skin was so sensitized he felt everything at once: the scratch of her thin silver bracelet across the skin of his back, her toes re
sting against his calf, the brush of her taut nipples against his chest. The bunched fabric of her sundress, which remained twisted around her waist despite the physicality of what they’d just done. And still, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

  He could hardly wait to do it again.

  This time, they’d make love slowly, passionately, and perhaps without taxing his control or his lung power so thoroughly. How was it that sex with Kelly drew on his aerobic capacity more than a ten-mile jungle hike with a full pack on his back?

  Maybe, he mused, because he’d put in more effort given the rewards.

  Finally, he turned his head enough to see Kelly’s expression. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and her hair splayed across the mattress above her head as if she were asleep, yet he sensed her alertness before he shifted to unhook a strand of auburn hair from where it had tangled in one of her silver hoop earrings.

  “You Sarcaccian men really know how to flirt,” she said without opening her eyes. “I’m impressed.”

  “Not all Sarcaccian men.”

  “Thought you didn’t know about other Sarcaccian men.” Her fingers moved across his back, her nails tracing a line just below where she’d discovered his scars. “But I’ll take your word for it. Tourism would go through the roof if all Sarcaccian men were so talented.”

  Her winded statement made him realize he hadn’t moved off her. He pushed to his elbows, separating their bodies as quickly as possible.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m crushing you.”

  “You’re not.” She pulled him toward her, but he braced his forearms on either side of her, preventing it. “I like feeling you against me.”

  “You won’t be able to breathe.” He had to be nearly double her weight.

  She frowned, then opened her eyes and put her hand between them, over her breast. “Feel my heart beat here.” She moved her hand higher, to the juncture where her throat met her collarbone. “Feel it here. I’m breathing just fine. Faster than usual, but I suspect there’s an explanation for that.”

  He eased off his forearms, slowly allowing his weight to settle. He put one hand between them, over her heart, where she’d placed her hand a moment before. The beat was rapid, but steady. Instantly, her arms wrapped tight around him. “See? I’m still breathing. You’re not as big as you think you are.”

  He laughed into her hair and moved his lower body against hers. “Want to rethink that statement?”

  “Give me a reason.”

  “Give me a minute.”

  “All the time you want.”

  The comment was said with humor, but desire flickered in her eyes. They lay there, holding each other, allowing their breathing to slow and the sheen of perspiration that covered them both to evaporate. She said nothing, but moved the pads of her fingers along his back in a lazy pattern. As if the scars weren’t there, or at least weren’t consequential. He fought back the sense of awe that filled him. He’d always enjoyed sex, but this…this had been different. Transcending. It wasn’t the fact it’d been so long, much as he’d like to attribute it to that. It was the woman.

  Even so, she was an American on vacation. He was a local and nothing more in her mind. Someone she’d met on the beach who’d talked her into dinner and wine. A vacation memory, much like sampling Giulia's secret recipes.

  And wasn’t that what he’d wanted her to think?

  “This has been spectacular,” he said at last, kissing the top of her head. “And I’m not one to make love and run, but neither will I overstay my welcome if you’d prefer to sleep alone.”

  She was quiet so long he wondered if his words bothered her. At long last, she said, “You did tell me that you didn’t plan on sleeping.” As his quiet chuckle, she continued, “So I won’t keep you. But you’re welcome to stay if you’d like. It’s quite comfortable having you here.” She rolled just enough to press a kiss to his cheek.

  “Comfortable?” He grimaced. “That’s worse than ordinary.”

  Despite the mirth in his answer, her eyes were serious as she twisted to meet his gaze. “I meant it in the best sense. In the sense that—for whatever reason—it feels natural having you here. Like I said, I’m not a first-date-sex kind of person, so—”

  “I want to stay.” He said it so quietly, so seriously, it surprised even him. But he meant it. He couldn’t imagine leaving now, walking out the front door into the cool night air and leaving her behind. “And for the record, I’m not a first-date-sex kind of person, either.”

  “Well, then—”

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered as another thought entered his head. “We didn’t use any protection.”

  How could he be so stupid? Condoms weren’t exactly on the packing list for a solo boat excursion, but how could it not have occurred to him once he and Kelly were tearing at each other’s clothes? Unplanned sex was one thing, unprotected sex another.

  She sucked in her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Oh, geez, I can’t believe…how did I not—”

  “Have you, ah,” —how did one word this, precisely?

  “I had my yearly physical a couple weeks ago. I’m perfectly healthy. You?”

  “Military discharge exam. Last month.”

  She exhaled. “And I’m covered as far as pregnancy goes. No worries there.”

  He nodded, unsure of the proper response. Hallelujah didn’t seem right.

  “Still want to stay? Or did that completely kill the mood?” she asked.

  He grinned down at her. How did she know the perfect thing to say? He skimmed his hand along her bare shoulder. Kelly was so open, so honest. So unlike any woman he’d met. Every one, even those with wealth and connections of their own, women who could seduce any man they chose, seemed to want something from him. Something more than banter over a romantic dinner on Giulia’s patio. More than a night of passion, more than laughter on a mattress on the floor in the moonlight. It was as if they wanted a piece of his soul without sharing theirs in return.

  And that was aside from wanting a piece of the Barrali fortune.

  A pang of guilt wound its way through his gut at having kept his identity from her. How ironic that now he wondered if she’d have slept with him if she knew he was one of those Barralis, given what she said about “rich and powerful guys.” Or how she liked ordinary. Comfortable.

  He hadn’t out and out lied, but he certainly hadn’t told the truth, either.

  Does it even matter?

  Yes…it did. To him. Even if he never saw her again after tonight, he knew how he’d feel if their roles were reversed.

  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her. Nor could he bring himself to leave. He wanted her for as long as he could have her, and he’d do his damnedest to ensure she enjoyed herself.

  He wondered how long she’d planned to stay on the island.

  “I haven’t changed my mind if you haven’t,” he told her.

  She eased out from under him and propped herself up on an elbow. “Good, because I could use your muscle. Help me fix the bed?”

  He planted a wet, lingering kiss square on her mouth. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kelly snapped awake to the sound of books slamming to the floor.

  Dazed, she put a hand to her chest as if the physical pressure would slow her heartbeat and put the world to rights, inhaled slowly, then rolled to her side and blinked. Though darkness filled the space over her head, sunshine slivered its way through her cracked bedroom door, casting a thin wedge of light on the white-tiled floor beside the bed.

  No, not her bedroom door. The door of her vacation rental.

  Not books. A bark. Gaspare.

  Using her elbows, she pushed to a sitting position and felt movement beside her. Massimo. He’d spent the night. Not that there was much sleeping.

  A satisfied smile flitted across her face at the thought. He’d certainly kept his promise in that department.

  They’d made lei
surely, romantic love after their initial wild coupling. She’d thought nothing could top their first romp. She was wrong. For hours, he’d practically worshipped her body, discovering every inch of her with strong, slow hands while doing downright sinful things to her with his tongue. She’d done the same, indulging every desire as she stroked her fingertips across the ridges and planes of his magnificent body, exploring to her heart’s content. Around three in the morning, they’d shared a soapy, warm shower before collapsing naked into the bed, but not without taking lingering tastes of each other’s bodies once more.

  Never in her life had she experienced such unfettered pleasure.

  She surveyed the bedroom, her eyes now adjusted to the dim light. The white sheets were askew, half-hanging onto the floor. Filtered light came through the curtains, too, but not enough to have awakened her. Clothing littered the floor around the bed. Even her sundress, which she’d finally taken off after they’d heaved the mattress back in place, lay in a heap in the corner.

  The most notable thing in the room, though, was Massimo.

  The man was buck naked and absolutely glorious, despite the fact he bore a dark shadow along his face and jaw. She watched in languid fascination as he rolled to his side with catlike grace and eased his feet to the ground. His hands came over his head as he stretched, then he scrubbed his palms over his hair and yawned. The muscles in his shoulders rolled with the movement, making her want to reach out and touch him all over again.

  Instead, she snuggled deeper into the bedding and allowed her gaze to travel his body, noting the tiny mole near his right shoulder blade, then the temporary red marks created by the crumpled sheets.

  Finally, she studied the damaged skin she’d sussed out with her fingertips the night before. During their shower, she’d seen his torso from the front as she’d run soap over his arms and shoulders, then teased at the light hair dusting his chest. But she hadn’t yet had a good look at his back. The contrast from the front was striking. It looked as though his left side had been scraped away by a giant, fiery claw, leaving behind burned and tattered skin that was hurriedly plastered together without all the pieces necessary to make the repair. Along the edges, the skin puckered, making her wonder how painful his healing process had been. It wasn’t an old injury, either. The raised areas were pink and shiny with new skin, not yet faded to the deep purple or white of old scar tissue.