by Sienna Blake
But…I can’t.
In one week, he’ll be gone. I’ll still be here.
Whatever passions and pleasure we share will be over.
This acting hotel manager role. My career. My life. They are all I have. I must remember to think long-term.
No distractions.
I place a hand on his chest and push at him. That was a mistake. The feel of his firm, unyielding chest under my hand almost makes me change my mind and yank him towards me instead.
Thankfully, he steps back. Because there is no way in hell I am making this mountain of a man move unless he wants to be moved. Cold reality rushes in to clear my head.
“I’m very flattered at your offer,” I force myself to say, my voice sounding like it’s coming from someone else. “But I’m afraid I have to say no.”
He stiffens. “No?”
I give him a soft smile. “It’s not you, I promise.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“A husband?”
“No.”
“Then what is the matter?”
“I just…I don’t think it would be very professional of me to sleep with a hotel guest.”
“No one would ever find out. I am discreet.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
Grayson blinks at me. “You’re actually saying no, aren’t you?”
“No one’s ever said no to you before, have they?” I ask softly.
Grayson’s frown deepens, the creases in his forehead making his stare even more intense. “No, they haven’t.”
“It’s good for a man such as yourself to hear the word no every once in a while,” I say in a teasing voice. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
I turn on my heel and stride away as fast as I can without breaking into a run. I need to get away from him. The truth is, the farther I get away from him, the more I think I’m cursing myself for walking away.
But I have to.
No distractions.
I want this hotel manager role more than I want a passionate fling with a gorgeous prince.
I think…
Sophia
I thought that Prince Grayson would have changed his mind about my being his personal concierge after I’d rejected his proposition. But come dinner time that evening, I’ve been instructed to bring up room service personally to his room.
A dinner for two.
Two entrees, two chef specials, one dessert—a decadent chocolate mousse—with two spoons. A bottle of our best Rioja, a red wine from a region in Italy, and two glasses.
I know what he’s doing. He’s found another woman who’s willingly said yes to his one week, no strings offer and she’s in his room right now. The bastard is going to make me serve them both dinner to get back at me. To make me regret turning him down.
She’s probably already lounging on that king-sized bed in the main bedroom of the Royal Suite, naked, a satisfied smile on her face. I bet she’s stunning and has a perfectly slim body. A Victoria’s Secret model or a famous actress. That’s the kind of woman who Prince Grayson propositions. Not a too-curvy, all-bum-and-no-waist nobody that I am.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to go up there.
But I have to. I have to suck it up and serve them as if nothing is wrong. As if my stomach isn’t doing flips at the thought of seeing him again. Even worse, seeing him with another woman.
Why do I even care? I turned him down.
At the door of the Royal Suite, I take a deep breath that is meant to calm me. It doesn’t work. I lift my hand and knock anyway.
“Room service,” I call.
Chase opens the front door. He grins at me and stands aside to let me through. “Sophia.”
“Chase,” I say as a greeting, my throat tight.
“Don’t look so scared, lamb,” Chase whispers to me as I push the trolley past him.
I step into the large living and dining room, sucking in a breath when I see Prince Grayson is standing there, waiting for me. He looks devastating in a tailored light grey suit, his hair wild about his head. He stands by the small intimate dining table near the floor-to-ceiling windows, curtains thrown all the way back so that the moon glimmers off the ocean in the background and the boats float on the sea like stars. The lights have been dimmed and candles have been lit all over the room. It’s heartbreakingly romantic.
This could have been for me.
I quickly shove that thought away before I start to cry. I glance around the rest of the suite. I spot Nicolai standing like a sentry against one wall, his eyes narrowed on me. But no woman. She must still be in the main bedroom, getting ready for her dinner with the prince.
Lucky woman. I try to ignore the stab in my guts.
Chase shuts the door behind me with a click. Suddenly I’m all too aware that I’m alone in this suite with three huge men, all positioned in a circle around me. I feel like an animal that’s just realised she’s being hunted.
“Good evening, Sophia,” Grayson says. His voice caresses my name like a sultry kiss.
I stand behind the trolley as if it is enough to protect me from him.
“Good evening…Your Highness,” I add after a pause.
Grayson waves his hand. “You and I are well past formalities.” I blush at his implication and hope that his two bodyguards don’t understand the extent of what he means. “Call me Grayson.”
I can’t call him Grayson. It’s too familiar.
“Here is the room service you ordered.” I indicate the trolley before me. “Dinner…for two.” I can’t help the touch of bitterness clouding my voice.
“Thank you. I…wasn’t sure you’d come.” For the first time since I met him, Prince Grayson sounds almost unsure.
“Of course,” I say. “You requested my presence. Who am I to refuse you anything?”
His eyes flash with something undecipherable before it’s gone. “Stay.”
“Sir,” I say, a feeble attempt at remaining professional, “I don’t think—”
“Grayson,” he corrects me with a growl.
“Grayson, please…” I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
Please don’t make me stay.
“I should go before your guest appears.”
“No.”
“I am not going to stand here and serve you and whatever woman you have roped into having dinner with you in your suite,” I finally snap.
His eyes narrow. “Sophia…”
“Grayson…”
He pulls out a chair from behind the table for two. “Sit.”
I blink as the realisation hits me. I am the woman he’s trying to rope into having dinner with him in his suite. He wants me to have dinner with him. He tricked me into coming here.
“You both,” Grayson directs to Chase and Nicolai, “can leave us now.”
Chase nods his head towards Grayson and shoots me a wink, before slipping out the front door.
Nicolai stiffens where he stands, shooting me a glare. “Sir, it is not a good idea for both of us to be outside.”
“Why the hell not?” Grayson demands.
“The…window is not secure.”
Grayson snorts. “We’re eight floors up. If you’re so worried, you can go stand on the balcony.”
Nicolai presses his lips together. For the moment the two men eye each other off in a silent battle of wills. Even though Nicolai is broader than Grayson, my money is on Grayson. He exudes pure raw alpha power, regardless of whether he holds a crown.
Nicolai’s shoulders drop just a fraction. “I will be outside.”
Even though Nicolai frightens me, I want to beg him to stay. Because being left alone with just Grayson frightens me even more. The memory of how I lost complete control over myself in the elevator flashes through my body, sending a mixture of fire and ice through me.
I don’t trust myself alone with him.
The door clicks behind Nicolai.
Shit. Here I am, alone. With him.
Grayson is still holding the chair out. “Sit,” he repeats.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“You want to, Sophia. You and I both know it. Besides, it’s just…dinner.”
No, it’s not. I stand my ground. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Are you going to fight me every step of the way?”
“Are you going to demand things of me instead of asking nicely?” I counter.
Grayson takes in a long deep breath, then lets it out slowly. He lets go of the back of the chair and strides towards me. I want to back up but I know if I do, I’ve lost. Even if I wanted to run away, my feet won’t move.
He stops right before me, his wide frame taking up my entire vision. He is all I can see. I can smell his earthy cologne mixed with fresh soap and all I want to do is press my face into his chest and inhale.
“Sophia,” he begins, “it’s not just your beauty that I’m fascinated by. You intrigue me. More than anyone has in a long time. I want to talk with you, just talk.”
“Just talk?” I am dubious. And, if I’m honest with myself, a little disappointed.
He nods. “If you decide after we finish our meal that you never want to see me again, I will release you from your obligation to me.”
“No more bringing up dinner for you when you demand it? No more sitting where you tell me to sit?” I tease.
He takes one of my hands in his. I suck in a breath as he lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a soft, chaste kiss on the back.
“Sophia,” he says quietly, his lips brushing over my skin, sending tingles up my arm. “I’m asking you…begging you…to have dinner with me. Please?”
His words are spoken so humbly, so reverently, that I know in that instant I’m going to say yes.
* * *
I didn’t think I would have much to say to a prince, but several hours later we are laughing over plates scraped clean. He is intelligent, sophisticated, but with a wicked sense of humour.
We’ve talked about music—we both love classical, especially Mendelssohn, and rock classics like The Eagles and Creedence Clearwater Revival—and art, discovering we both love Monet and hate Picasso.
I’ve confessed about my temporary position as acting hotel manager and what it could mean to me if it were to be made permanent, and he offered some suggestions on how to make the hotel run more efficiently.
When I raise an eyebrow, he shrugs. “This particular spoiled royal brat got his MBA from Oxford.”
My cheeks heat. “Grayson, I’m so s—”
He holds up his hand, grinning at me. “I’m just teasing you.”
He places the chocolate mousse on the table between us and holds up a single dessert spoon. The warm glow of the candles makes his lightly tanned skin glow.
I pout. “Where’s my spoon?”
“You don’t need one.”
That stings. I swallow, hard, and sink back into my chair, folding my arms over my chest. “Okay, fine, I could stand to lose a few pounds, but you don’t need to—”
“Sophia!” He looks horrified. “I’m not suggesting that you shouldn’t eat dessert. You don’t need a spoon because I was going to feed you.”
Oh.
“I have an arse,” I blurt out.
His grins. “I noticed. Officially, men love arses. And I think I can speak for all men—at least all the British ones—I am their future king, you know. Unofficially…I can’t wait to get my hands on that beautiful round bum of yours.”
I almost choke on my own tongue.
“And for the record,” he scoops some mousse onto his spoon and holds it out, a hungry look on his face as he stares intently at me, “I think you look fucking perfect.”
I think you look fucking perfect.
I don’t think I have ever felt as sexy as I do in that moment. Spurred on by his sincerity, I lean forward towards the spoon suggestively. His gaze drops to my mouth. He lets out a groan as I suck the mousse off. The chocolate is like heaven on my tongue, and I can’t help my own little moan of pleasure.
“If I wasn’t such a gentleman,” he says through gritted teeth, “I’d throw you across this table, strip you naked and see how many more noises I can coax from that pretty little mouth.”
Heat sears through me. I know right then that all my excuses are shot. If he tugs me close, I will melt into him. If he pulls me towards the bed, I will let him. Because I want him so much it hurts.
“What a pity you’re such a gentleman,” I say, attempting to sound teasing but my voice coming out all breathy instead.
“Damn this good breeding.”
He scoops another spoonful into my mouth, his gaze fixed on my lips, hunger growing more intense in his sapphire eyes, his breathing growing heavy.
I’m imagining that the spoon is him. I lick it, suck it, I let the spoon slide in and out of my mouth. All the while his eyes darken, he appears ever the more dangerous. I’m testing his limits, poking the bear, but I can’t help myself. This man does things to me. He unleashes this careful control I have over my life.
It’s foreplay like I’ve never experienced it, and I am getting wetter and wetter with every bite. All this over a damn spoon.
Waves of desire course through my body so hard I have to fight not to wriggle in my seat.
I want him. Not the crown prince nor a future king. But this man.
Lord help me, before the night is out, I know will give him everything.
Soon there is no mousse left. There is nothing of this dinner to distract us now from the real reason I am here.
Grayson sets the plate and spoon aside before leaning forward and gripping the edges of the table. It’s the only thing left between us. He looks about ready to throw the damn thing aside.
“I want you.”
“I…”
“You want me.”
I let out a heated breath. There is no denying it. My skin feels flushed. My thighs are pressed together. I am practically burning up inside. “Yes.”
“Say yes to me, Sophia. And I will give you pleasure unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to maintain the last vestiges of my control.
Sleeping with a hotel guest—with a fucking prince, for God’s sake—is unforgiveable. Unconscionable. Wrong.
But…
How often in my life have I felt this kind of connection? And not just sexually. Our conversation over dinner proves that we connect on so many more levels.
Grayson moves so swiftly that I barely have time to open my eyes before he’s pulled me from my seat and yanked me into his arms. Once again, we’re flush against each other. My softness melding against his hardness. It’s a struggle to think in his arms. All I want to do is to submit. To be taken. To be claimed by him.
“What do I have to do to make you say yes?” He lowers his lips to my ear, sucking up my earlobe before releasing it.
I let out a groan. “You’re not playing fair.”
“I have to use what I can. I’ve never had to work so damn hard to seduce a woman. It’s a blow to my ego.”
I laugh, then gasp as his lips find that sensitive spot on my neck. “Luckily for you, your ego is big enough to survive me.”
“Right now, I’m not sure if it will survive if you say no.”
I whimper as he rolls his hips against me, his huge erection pressing against me, making me want it where it aches most for him.
Why am I still hesitating?
Because I think if I have just once taste of this man, I’ll want more. But more is not what he’s offering.
One week.
No strings.
Could I do it? Could I give him my body and keep my heart out of this arrangement?
“I don’t usually do this kind of thing,” I protest weakly.
“Neither do I.”
“Liar.”
“I’m practically a virgin,” he teases, as he expertly presses soft kisses up my neck.
/> I groan. “But my…job.”
“We’ll keep our affair in this suite. I’ve already requested that no other staff come near it. No one will ever find out.”
“And…if they do?”
He pulls back to look at me, a serious, concerned look on his face. “I’ll deny it. No one ever dares to contradict me.” His lip quirks up. “Except for you.”
A serious look steals over his face. He lowers his head and for a moment I think he’s going to kiss me again.
It’s all over if he does. I am a goner.
But he doesn’t. He brushes his lips against mine in a sweep from left to right. The touch so light, so tantalizing, it has me groaning and moving forward. This time it’s he who pulls back, just far enough to keep the light pressure on our lips.
Push. Pull. Back. Forth. It’s a delicate dance we are performing, and I know the end game.
He won’t give me what I want until I…
“Say yes,” he whispers against my mouth.
The last of my self-control slips. All my excuses turn to smoke and dust. He’s won.
“Yes.”
Heat and triumph flare in his eyes. He lets out a low growl from deep in his throat and finally—finally—closes his mouth over mine.
Once again, my mind shuts down. My world closing into this safe space in between his strong arms. My sun is his mouth, hot and demanding, his tongue is the lap of oceans caressing against mine.
It is devastating. All-consuming.
All concerns over my career, my job…my secrets disappear.
I run my hands greedily over his broad shoulders and down his firm chest. My God. I have never felt a man so hard and chiseled.
Without warning, he pulls back. “Wait,” he breathes.
I want to scream at him for stopping. I let out a whimper. “You spent all that time priming me and now you want to wait? Oh, God. You actually are a virgin.”
He chuckles before leaning his head on mine. “Not quite a virgin. There’s just one…condition that I have. It’s non-negotiable.”
“A condition?”
“I can’t…won’t proceed if the condition is not met.”
I frown. He waited until I was putty in his hands to spring a fucking condition on me?