You Can't Fight a Royal Attraction

by Ruchi Vasudeva

  ‘Is that supposed to make me melt? Oh no! That wasn’t what I agreed to.’ She felt relief she had something else to concentrate on rather than his utterly beguiling admission. ‘Stop. Stop right now.’

  To her surprise he signalled and did stop, drawing gently to the shoulder of road.

  His sudden capitulation had obviously floored her, Rihaan realised. She looked lost for words at the moment, evoking a gentle amusement in him that made him smile at the same time as it made him want to cage her in his arms.

  He frowned. Where did he go thinking like that?

  Already he had said too much, admitted what he perhaps shouldn’t have. The comprehension that he had badly judged her had only underlined his own reluctance to face the attraction between them. A reluctance that sprang out of his instinctive distrust. Whatever his own demons, he couldn’t form an opinion about her on the basis of her past. Saira had given in to honest emotions. Her clear heart had led her and unwarily she had gone down the wrong route.

  Now he found himself fighting those feelings more than ever. But, when all was said and done, he was still obliged to care for her.

  Her disappearance had deeply disturbed him. She was hurt, vulnerable, not in the frame of mind which equipped one fully to meet the dupes dotting the city.

  He could understand his concern. But he couldn’t understand why his man-cave had lost its habitual cosiness once she had gone. The way the house had suddenly seemed to be lacking in something…

  Surely an imaginary feeling that he needn’t be in a stew over?

  ‘You are not making me come back with you. I’ll explain to Vishakha—’

  ‘If it’s a job you want, I can offer you one,’ he said, the words coming out of nowhere. ‘You did a fine job of managing the house. So why not stay on and do that?’

  She gave him a freezing look. ‘You already have help. If you think I’m going to put someone out of work, you can think again.’

  He sighed. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re unreasonable?’

  ‘Absolutely no one. They never had any reason to. I don’t know why you feel you need to take and keep me under your wing,’ Saira said.

  Of course she knew. It was because of his undying devotion to her relatives. But she figured somewhere in there—or didn’t she? And, above all that, was the real live danger he presented to her senses. In the enclosed car space she could inhale the distinctive citrus scent he wore. She found herself looking at him more closely. For all that metro slickness and cologne bathing, the fact he hedged on letting her loose in the city clearly said he was still a partial caveman inside. Why wasn’t she offended by that?

  Maybe because, instinctively, she could sense that behind it lay the desire to offer protectiveness, not the will to dominate or subjugate. Which was a crazy thing to assume. She didn’t really know him at all.

  ‘For your sister’s sake,’ he said, ‘I vote we keep the charade of being together going. If she finds you working in that place, she’ll definitely know we’ve broken up because no way would I ever let my girlfriend enter that site. So—’ he shrugged ‘—it’s up to you. If you want your sister to think you’re heartbroken again and worry herself sick about you…’

  He trailed off, effectively leaving her to chew over that. After seconds of rumination she glanced at him suspiciously. Was he being conniving or merely logical?

  ‘But—’

  ‘You can still do the cooking,’ his voice dropped persuasively, ‘I do have a regular cleaner but not a cook. So, what do you say?’

  What could she say to that? He seemed to be two jumps ahead and even trying to catch up with him gave her a headache.

  ‘You seem to have thought it all out.’ She had the feeling she’d said those words before.

  ‘You can return the favour by partnering me at a celebrity event,’ he told her, barely able to keep his grin to himself in the face of her non-objection. ‘I’ve promised to attend and I’m without a date,’ he added the leverage. ‘Once that’s over, you’re free to leave.’

  ‘You’re without a date?’ She couldn’t help a disbelieving snort. With those looks, he wouldn’t have to look far if he really wanted one.

  He grinned. ‘Thanks for the implied compliment but girls usually have trouble adjusting to my unmanageable Muse. But I’m in no danger of offending you, so we can simply relax and enjoy the event. Besides, it’s going to please your sister no end when she reads about it in the news that we’re going about in society as a couple.’

  The irrefutable logic of his argument resulted in a contemplative silence from her. To be honest, she wasn’t particularly hung up on working in the bar. Maybe while she acted as his cook she could hunt for a better job. Maybe he would even give her a reference for her cooking ability. Being a chef would be infinitely better than waitressing in a stenchy place.

  And as for drooling over him, she’d definitely learnt it wasn’t a road she wanted to tread. She didn’t hold a grudge against him for his anger. Couldn’t after the way he had opened up, but it would definitely be a bad idea to get soft and vulnerable where he was concerned. She had a growing suspicion that all that snootiness hid a charmer beneath. Look how persuasively he’d presented the idea of a date.

  But… the other half of her mind argued if they had a professional relationship, surely she stood a better chance of becoming immune to his charm?

  She brightened at the thought. ‘We’ll have to make a detour to pick up my things. After I call the bar to tell them I’m not coming in,’ she added.

  While they got her things, she had the idea of picnicking on the beach. So on the way back they made a stop at the supermarket, first stopping for breakfast in the attached café.

  Things were just super-cool between them, Saira decided. She was careful not to get into the deeper end of the conversational pool and she had a feeling Rihaan was steering clear of the potholes too. Talk remained strictly limited to generalities and current affairs.

  The only awkwardness she felt came when she was waiting near the billing counter with the trolley. Rihaan seemed to have disappeared. He came back and dropped a bottle into the purchases. ‘Sunscreen. You might burn at the beach otherwise.’

  Her light, ‘Good thinking! Thanks,’ hid the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat, as she marvelled that he had thought of her.

  Back at the cottage, he disappeared into the study and, thankful for the reprieve, she made a beeline for the kitchen.

  ‘Come on now,’ Rihaan urged, already waist-deep in the water, ‘you haven’t come to the beach just to collect shells, have you?’

  His teasing overrode the tension she could still feel lurking between them. Or was it her imagination going into overdrive?

  ‘I’ll be just in. You go on. The water’s a bit cold,’ she tagged on as an excuse.

  ‘Don’t be long.’ He dived in, brown torso wet and gleaming. Muscles she hadn’t properly appreciated when he was clothed, she could now see bulging and bunching till the water covered him.

  She was appreciating them now and tried very hard to keep her libido reined in.

  Catching hold of the hem of her lacy cover-up, she peeled it off. Beneath was a lovely yellow bikini that she knew showed off her new-found slenderness well. She frowned and instinctively her hand went to her elbow, smoothing over the ridged scars spread there like a cruel stroke of ugly fingers. Without the sleeves she usually wore, they stood out like a beacon.

  She sighed, knowing she was being ridiculously oversensitive about it. That was because of the emotional connection she had with the marks.

  A connection she needn’t pander to, she reminded herself. She’d meant to discard the wearing of sleeves but while shopping she always played safe and picked up the dresses that covered her arms. Obsessed with perfection, she often mocked herself.

  Now she was conscious that Rihaan would look at them.

  She was being ridiculous.

  Time to let it go.

  Resolutely she stepped f
orward, feeling the warm sun on the bared scars and trying not to care. She let the water splash over her, feeling that invisible tug on the body as she stepped in deeper. For so long she had been holding back from her life. For what? She closed her eyes and leaned back, letting the water take her weight, for a moment free and floaty… an illusion because could you ever be completely free of the past?

  Knock off the self-pity, Saira! she told herself resolutely.

  Rihaan sucked in his breath, watching Saira get in the water. He’d asked her to come in but what a stupid idea it had been. Even from a distance he could see her form delineated, the curves, the dip of her waist in the perky yellow bikini. But most of all the way she stood drew him in. A challenge, a dignity, a loneliness about her, yet it all seemed to echo and find a chord that twanged inside him.

  He should swim away. Keep out of her range. Yet, as though pulled towards her by an invisible magnet, he found himself cutting a path through the water towards her.

  She heard him coming and turned over. He could see her grin, dispelling the odd stillness he’d sensed. She splashed a wave at him as he came closer and swam away with a teasing smile.

  Caught in her playfulness, Rihaan swam after her to take revenge.

  ‘Hungry?’ Rihaan asked.

  ‘Not yet.’ She closed her eyes as she lay on her stomach drying off under the sun. She had come out of the water earlier than him. Things were relaxed between them and she was proud of the way she had kept things on a strictly even keel so far. Nothing to it. All you had to do was pretend a bit.

  The warmth had seeped into her limbs, making her feel deliciously lazy. But now she was beginning to get tingles of awareness for no other reason than that he sat nearby.

  ‘You’re going to burn without protection.’ She turned her head to see him unseal the lotion. The next moment he had poured an amount into his palm.

  ‘Shall I?’

  Should he? Definitely it wasn’t listed in the safety precautions. In fact, it was boldly written under the ‘don’ts’ list. She barely managed to nod. Already her skin was prickling with the anticipation of his touch.

  He didn’t disappoint. The lotion was cool, his hands warm. Thorough. Sensuous. She bit her lip to hold in her gasp as they spread on her upper back, and he lifted the tie of her top slightly to continue the motion.

  Heaven or torture? She couldn’t decide.

  Her muscles clenched as he moved to her lower back. Tracing her spine. Tracing? Surely he wasn’t supposed to do that?

  Who was complaining? The touch feathered along and she began to hope against all reason and sense that it would never stop. That it would keep moving, exploring, feathering delicious decadent impulses…

  Abruptly it stopped.

  She lifted her head to look at him. He had flopped onto the mat next to her. ‘What about the rest?’ she teased in a dangerous daring, regretting the moment the words were out of her mouth. When would she learn?

  ‘You’ll be okay. There’s some shade here,’ he said neutrally.

  Oh yeah.

  She shook her head. Bad idea to be here with him like this. A thoroughly bad idea.

  Especially when he was stretched out, lying on his stomach like that. Back glistening in the sun, muscles ridging the scapulae, the perfect line of his spine carved out.

  An absolutely thoroughly bad idea.

  ‘Shouldn’t you put on the sunscreen too?’ What devil had got hold of her to say that? ‘Here, let me do it.’ She sat up.

  He lifted his head, an enigmatic look directed at her, seeing all the way through her flimsy excuse.

  ‘Okay.’ He joined in the pretence and her heart thudded against her ribs at the sheer taboo lie they were acting.

  His skin was smooth and firm. She spread her fingers on his shoulders, shaping the steely deltoids. The lotion was a forbidden blatant excuse to give in to the impulses raging through her. She moved to his back. His tattoo was a perfect starting point. She traced it, fascinated by the ink submerged into the cutaneous layer. Of course, she told herself, it was just a purely scientific exploration of the mark.

  Of course.

  And she wasn’t allured to the feel of his silky skin, ridged by muscles, sloping to the dip of his spine. Of course not.

  It was really a beautiful tattoo. Having seen many friends sporting intricate ones, she could appreciate the detail. The finely etched manes of the animals. The sword hilt. The faint red lines marked to enhance shades.

  And he had borne all the discomfort.

  It must be important.

  ‘Why did you get this?’ she asked curiously.

  He didn’t answer. Maybe he’d gone to sleep. Emboldened by his supposed unawareness, her touch became freer. Her body warmed up as daringly she traced the line of his spine. She was only returning the compliment, she reasoned away the impulse. It was only incidental that it felt good. Fabulous. The toned skin was a gift to the one touching it.

  Only she could go so far…

  Realisation seeped into her consciousness, dripping like the incessant flow of water over stone. She’d been carried away by physical need taking over her consciousness. She bit her lip as her hands froze.

  ‘Don’t stop now!’ The husky plea had her throat closing up as she fought against giving in to him. Giving in to her own surging desires.

  ‘Saira!’ The call arrested her when she would have turned away. The grating note of need in a single word that crashed through her barriers and made the earth tilt a little. Oh God.

  He sat up, a large hand closing on her arm to stop her.

  ‘Let’s stop torturing ourselves.’ His gaze was brilliant as it held hers. ‘Let’s take it where it wants to go. This desire between us. This tension. You know very well it demands assuaging.’

  She swallowed. ‘I… it’s too soon.’

  ‘I’ve tried to fight it too. But all I did was hurt you. And in a way myself too.’

  The admission made her breath catch but she shook her head. ‘I hardly know you, Rihaan.’

  He took a deep breath, chest expanding. ‘What’s that got to do with it? What’s to know about me, anyway? A moody writer, an absent-minded plotter. What would you like to know?’ He gestured broadly with his hands. ‘You know what I do, you’ve seen my place and you know how I live… I’m not a neatness freak but I keep my desk organized, so I know what to find if I’m in a hurry. I’m no cook myself but I can’t abide live-in help. I eat packaged food and takeaways more times than not. The only thing I can cook is jaggery rice. I don’t have fixed hours for writing, so my bedtime is variable too.’ He paused and cocked an eyebrow. ‘That suffice?’

  ‘Actually, no.’ She met his gaze. ‘Those are personal quirks but it takes more to form a person than random likes such as the colour green being favoured over pink. I’d want to know more. What have you been through in your life? If you had a happy childhood or a sad one? How do you feel about love? Why do you write what you do… the stories of men driven too harshly to the end of their tether by circumstances no one can control? You didn’t even tell me what made you get the tattoo.’ Had she said too much? Probably, as usual. A dark look crossed his face, which became hard, like carved granite for seconds.

  ‘You have a lot of questions,’ he said finally. She waited, wanting to know, suddenly curious about all the questions she had voiced. She hadn’t even known she’d had them in her mind.

  Studiously he raked the sand, admitting, ‘I’ve left a lot behind but all that is irrelevant to my life now.’ Slowly, he scooped up the grains, his hand closing on them with such concentration that she wondered if the past was related to the desert he had left behind. If he was perhaps thinking of another kind of soil when he looked so fixedly at the grains of sand? A sudden flash of intuition convinced her it must be so.

  With an impatient gesture, he dusted off his hands. ‘It’s the here-and-now we’re concerned with, not with our respective life histories. Would knowing all those things change anything? Make
any difference?’ he asked. ‘Not to this.’ Deliberately he let his fingers curve around her ankle and then slide a path up her leg, moving in a slow, seductive climb that made her draw in her breath even as she watched, fascinated. His hand crossed her knee and spread and she placed her own over it, arresting the movement out of an instinct of self-preservation. Possessively, he kept the contact there. His voice grew throaty. ‘It wouldn’t make a difference to the way you feel when I touch you. Nor affect the way I feel when you devour me with your eyes.’ He smiled wickedly at her shocked gasp. ‘Oh yes, you do.’

  ‘You know everything about me. I have no idea…’ Her protest was weakened by breathlessness.

  The knowing sherry gaze hooked her, as heady as wine, but his expression was serious. ‘We won’t be kids indulging a momentary impulse, Saira. We go into this with our eyes open. You’ve had a bad experience of whatever people call love. You don’t want marriage again. At least not so soon…

  ‘If you want to know something important about me, let’s just say I’ve tried attachment at one point in my life and found it as sour an experience as you have.’

  She tried to assimilate that. Rihaan in love. Was that why he had left Rajasthan? Come to find his fortune in the tricky cinematic world? She tried to think. To imagine how it had been for him. But with him so nearby, the balmy breeze blowing against her, bringing his warmth to her, thinking was a lost cause.

  Rihaan said, his voice low, almost curt, ‘I’m not the easiest person to get along with so I’m not a worthwhile option if you want something long-term. But if all you want is a bed partner, I can promise you one thing. And that is… pleasure.’ His voice caressed the word, rolling it slowly off his tongue. ‘If you want a sample…’ His grip tightened on her thigh, sending shockwaves through her as he leaned in way too close. Somehow, she was pressed back on the towel, her body trapped beneath his. Her pulses hammered. Wind shifted over her, over too sensitised skin, then the air was gone as his body covered hers. Firm male lips touched the base of her neck. Cool, because her skin was hot, frenzied hot as his mouth traced the path from the vulnerable line of her throat to her jaw to her lips.