by Robin Gianna
“That’s the worst description of you imaginable.” He seemed to study her a long moment, and she wasn’t sure what he was seeing, or looking for. His fingertips traced her cheekbone as his thumb caressed her bottom lip. “You, Gabriella Cain, take my breath away.”
Then he kissed her again, slowly and deeply, taking her breath away, too. The kiss held so much promise of delicious, incredible sex she uttered a sound of protest when he stopped. “Are you absolutely sure? Because I need to know now or it might kill me to stop.”
“I’m sure, okay?” He appeared so suddenly hesitant she was afraid he’d leap up and leave, which might kill her. “Take my word for it. The last thing I want is to end up in a Mediterranean prison for killing a prince.”
He chuckled against her mouth. “The prisons at home don’t have as many rats as they used to, but it’s probably still wise to stay out of them.”
“That’s my plan.”
“Good. Coincides well with mine.” She gasped as his lips moved to her jaw, down to her throat, touching the sensitive spot beneath her ear as he deftly flicked the front clasp of her bra open. “I’m wondering if you’re perhaps overly warm. I know I am.”
Before she could even form an answer, he’d somehow managed to slip her T-shirt over her head and her bra straps down her arms and was staring at her nakedness. His eyes were dark and slashes of color rode high on his cheekbones as his gaze scorched her. Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs she thought he might actually be able to see it pounding.
“You are even more beautiful than I envisioned, mi ángel.” The glide of his touch across her breasts felt nearly reverent as his gaze returned to hers, and even as she was shocked that she was doing this, letting herself be with a man again, with this man in particular, she wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting anyone.
He kissed her again, hotter and more intense, lying nearly on top of her now, pressing her into the cushions, and the small groan that left his mouth and swirled into hers just about set her on fire. Knowing he was as aroused as she was had her arching her back for more, pressing her breasts against him, only to discover it wasn’t enough to feel his shirt there. She wanted his skin against hers, and fumbled to get the shirt open and off.
Except she hadn’t done this for a long time, and never with a tuxedo shirt, which she was learning had aggravatingly difficult buttons, and couldn’t manage to make it happen. Her sounds of frustration made him smile against her mouth before he leaned back.
“Let me, bella.”
In a slow striptease, he worked the buttons one by one, his lips curved at the same time his eyes smoldered, intently focused on her as she watched him. Inch by torturous inch, he exposed a chest even more muscled than she remembered, his bronzed skin covered with dark hair that looked as soft and silky and outrageously manly as the rest of him.
Mouth dry, she knew with certainty that this was truly a Cinderella night. That she’d never again be with a man as physically perfect as Prince Rafael Moreno, and she still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the fact that he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.
Then she couldn’t admire his chest anymore because he lowered himself to her, his bare and scorchingly hot torso pressed against hers. He kissed her again, and she practically drowned in the deliciousness of it all. Her bones turned to utter liquid when he skimmed that talented mouth down her throat, across her collarbone, then on to her breasts. Gasping, her hands burrowed into the thick softness of his hair as he ministered to one nipple, then the other, and she didn’t care that she was making little sounds and moving beneath him and pressing against him because control had gone out the window and all she wanted was to experience the incredible way he was making her feel.
Vaguely, she was aware of wide, warm palms slipping inside her sweatpants to cup her rear, then more aware of his hot mouth tracking from her breast down her belly as the pants and panties disappeared off over her feet, leaving her naked. Strong hands slid back up her legs to caress her thighs, his mouth following.
“Rafael.” She didn’t know what she was going to say, exactly, and wasn’t sure she could talk at all—her breath was so choppy she feared she might hyperventilate.
“Gabriella.” His teeth nipped her knee, followed by a teasing lick, moving up to her hipbone, and she jumped with a laughing gasp. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?”
“No. I might combust before then.”
A low, masculine laugh full of satisfaction swept across her skin. “Bueno. Me as well.”
Licking across her quivering belly, he touched her right where she wanted to be touched, and she gasped and wriggled against his talented fingers, until finally she couldn’t wait any longer. She reached for him, only to realize his darned pants were still on and completely in the way, just like his shirt had been. “What are your pants doing on? Get them off, fast.”
He gave a short laugh. “And you call me bossy?”
“I’m assertive when I need to be. And, believe me, right now I need to be.”
His eyes blazed at her with both amusement and heat. “My pants are on because I keep a condom in them. But not for long.”
“I appreciate a prepared prince,” she managed to say.
Another husky chuckle left his lips as he shucked his pants and took care of the condom, thankfully seeming to be in as much of a hurry as she was. He lowered his body to hers, and she gasped at the amazing sensation as he gently, slowly joined with her body, arching helplessly as they began to move together.
“Cariña. Mi ángel.” His whispered words had her blinking open her eyes, and his were the greenest she’d seen them, focused and gleaming and locked on hers. More Spanish words left his lips, first in whispers then louder as they rocked together until she cried out, and he joined with her in a long, low groan that reverberated in her chest.
The way he gathered her against him, tangling his fingers in her hair to tuck her face against his warm throat, felt tender and protective, and Gabby let herself absorb the intimacy and wonder of it. She tried hard not to think about how good it felt, how right, and how, when midnight came, Cinderella would be back in her corner all alone once again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAFAEL LISTENED TO the sound of his footsteps echoing across the marble-tiled foyer and wished he’d worn his scrubs and crepe-soled shoes instead, planning to change out of his regular shirt and dress pants if he’d needed to deliver a baby. Then cursed lightly under his breath at himself as he caught himself glancing around guiltily.
When was the last time he’d felt like a boy trying to sneak around undetected? Not since he’d been in primary school, since even before high school most people in authority hadn’t felt comfortable disciplining the second-born prince of their country. It was no wonder he’d run a little wild at times.
His various sports adventures, dating adventures, and foolish errors in judgment had been so well documented by the press over the years, he’d believed he was immune to caring about it. And he was immune, really, except that he had to care for Gabriella’s sake.
Yes, there were the occasional non-sensationalized stories. Ones that talked about medical school, and the years of study he put in to become a doctor and his actual work. But articles like that didn’t seem to hold as much interest for most people as the simple fact that he’d been born under the blessing and curse of royalty.
Not that it was only the public who felt that way, since his own family was pretty uninterested in his accomplishments. There were those times when he was happy about the press coverage, if it brought attention to the needs of the many women around the world who were underserved by proper medical care—or didn’t have access to care at all. But those kinds of stories were unfortunately few and far between.
As he skulked through the clinic, he felt ridiculous. And selfish. Spendi
ng time with Gabriella while he was in L.A. was more than good for him, but for her? Not so much. Being out in public with him definitely exposed her to potential embarrassment, with the media sniffing around. To having things publicly spread about her, and whether they were truth or lies wouldn’t matter.
He’d dated plenty of women who liked having their faces in the tabloids, holding on to his arm. But Gabriella wasn’t like other women. In so many ways. Something about her had grabbed his insides and tugged hard at his soul from the first second he’d met her. Her fiery temper had matched that beautiful hair of hers, then the next second she’d been endearingly sweet and caring with their very difficult patient. Add to that a sexiness she seemed barely aware of and a sadness in the depths of those brown eyes, and she was fascinating with a capital F.
The vision of the smile in her eyes and on her lips as they’d danced last night, the sight of her beautiful naked body as they’d made love, the memories of how her skin had felt against his, had him closing his eyes to hold it all inside. Had him wanting to find her right then, pull her into an empty room, and kiss her breathless.
But she deserved better than him. Deserved more than a man who would only be around for a month or two. Deserved the kind of man who was capable of offering her a commitment and a future, if that was what she wanted. And he wasn’t that man.
No. For her sake, he should steer clear of her from now on. Let last night be one great memory for both of them. The last thing he would ever want would be to add to the sadness in her eyes after he’d moved on.
He sighed and, feeling a little bruised, rubbed his chest. Knew that the bruising was inside, not out, but it would heal. At least, he assumed it would. He’d never felt quite like this before, so he couldn’t be sure. But it would be far worse to keep seeing Gabriella and bruise her, too.
Time to stop moping and get to work. He stopped at the computer outside one of the nurses’ stations to check some charts, and decided to see Cameron Fontaine first. Medically, she was absolutely fine. But she’d wanted to stay at the hospital a little longer, both so she could be near baby Skye and because she didn’t want to be seen in public while she was losing her “baby fat.”
Rafael and everyone else had reassured her it was hardly noticeable, though he knew many of the new mothers giving birth at the clinic worried about the same thing, having to live in the very close scrutiny of the public eye. Cameron was happy to be eating healthy spa food specially prepared to have the nutrition she needed, while helping her lose weight as she worked with personal fitness trainers. And, Lord knew, a happy Cameron made the lives of everyone in the clinic easier.
Including Gabriella’s, and he again marveled at her amazing patience and even empathy with a woman who could be pretty demanding. Then realized his every thought seemed to lead right back to Gabriella. How had his head become so consumed with her in such a short period of time?
Deep in thought on his way to Cameron’s room, the woman on his mind seemed to practically materialize out of thin air. She’d probably come out of the door he’d been about to walk by, but since her face had been what he’d been seeing and not the hallway, it gave him a start to see her actually there.
From the expression on her face, he’d startled her, too. Her face seemed to flush as she stared at him, and she swept her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture he’d only seen that night in his house when she’d run into his naked chest. The night he’d wanted to kiss her to see how she’d react.
Which reminded him all over again what it had been like to kiss her the night before. Along with all the other things they’d done together over the course of the night, and he had a feeling his face was flushed, too, but not with nervousness. With a heat he’d had a hard time banking down every time he’d thought of her since leaving her in the wee hours of the morning.
“Good morning, Ms. Cain.”
“Um, good morning, Dr. Moreno.”
Her voice was husky, and her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, and he was damned if all his resolutions to the contrary moments ago didn’t fly straight out of his brain. Replaced by that desire to grab her up, take her to the nearest empty room, and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
“I was about to see Cameron Fontaine,” he said, forcing his mind away from the thoughts that were actually making his body hard as they stood there in public. “Have you checked on her this morning?”
“Yes. She’s in the gym with the fitness trainer right now, so you’ll have to see someone else first. Speaking of which, I have a patient waiting in my office. She’s feeling nervous about some pain and wants to talk to me about it. Excuse me.”
She turned without another word and hurried down the corridor. He watched her slim rear in her scrubs swaying slightly, which immediately took his thoughts back yet again to last night and how she’d looked in her sweats. Then out of them. Which he’d sworn to himself he’d stop thinking about.
Maybe he needed to hit the clinic gym himself for a long workout, then a nice cold shower.
“Dr. Moreno! Rafael!”
Gabriella’s urgent voice had him turning to see her running back in his direction. “What’s wrong?”
“We have a precipitous delivery. My patient thought she might be imagining things, but she’s already eight centimeters dilated. Would you go and see to her while I get the pre-cep pack? My office.”
Rafael strode to the room. Knowing Gabriella knew what she was doing should have prepared him, but he was still surprised to see a woman lying on the floor of Gabriella’s office, practically wedged between the chairs in front of her desk, writhing and moaning, with blood beneath her on the floor. He cursed under his breath, because it was pretty obvious it was too late to move her to a birthing suite. He gave her knee a quick, reassuring pat. “It’s going to be all right. I’m Dr. Moreno, and Ms. Cain is getting what we need to help you, okay?”
He shoved the desk against the wall then grabbed the chairs. As he carried them into the hallway to give them all room, he could see Gabby tearing toward him with a big bowl in her hands.
“Everything should be in here. Clamps, scissors, bulb suction, sutures. Syringe for delivering intramuscular Pitocin. Blankets.”
“IV bag?”
“Yes.”
He and Gabriella shared a look. It was clear she’d experienced this before, and also knew the potential hazards of delivering a baby under these conditions. A shriek of pain drew their attention to the patient, who was gasping and clutching her belly.
“I want...I want an epidural now.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” Gabriella said in a gentle, soothing voice. “The baby’s coming fast, Trina, but that’s good news, because it won’t hurt for long, right?”
“Then let’s get the C-section done fast. But you can’t do the C-section here, can you?” Trina sucked in a few heavy breaths. “I...I don’t think I can walk. Can you get me moved to wherever you do that, maybe in a wheelchair?”
“C-section?” Gabriella glanced at Rafael with a question in her eyes, obviously asking if he’d somehow had a conversation with the woman about a Caesarean in the minute she’d been gone. He shook his head but since it was her patient kept quiet to let Gabriella handle it as she saw fit.
“Yes. I talked to my doctor about a C-section so I wouldn’t have any changes in my, you know, down there, and he agreed.”
“Trina, a vaginal birth is always preferable to a Caesarean section, both for the baby and for the amount of time your body needs to heal.”
“I don’t care. That’s what I want. I know the scar would be low and not noticeable.”
The mulish expression on her face contorted into pain as she had another long contraction. Rafael placed his hand on her belly. He could feel the muscles pushing hard, and was sure the baby was on its way. Gabriella must have thought the same
thing, as she efficiently set up an IV line in the woman’s arm.
Deciding that nature was making the decision for this woman about how her baby would be born, he figured an argument was unnecessary.
“Let’s see how much you’re dilated now, Trina,” he said, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile. “Do you want me to do the internal exam? Or would you prefer Ms. Cain to?”
“You, please,” the woman gasped.
He glanced at Gabriella, and had a hard time not grinning at her narrowed eyes and the expression on her face that was just about the equivalent of her sticking her tongue out at him. But there was a twinkle in those eyes too so he knew she wasn’t going to yell at him again.
He snapped on gloves and knelt in front of the woman. “All right. You’ll feel a little pressure as I check. You’re doing great.” Gabriella got the IV taped down, then moved to hold one of Trina’s knees.
Then their eyes met in surprise, and the plan changed again. Because the top of baby’s head was clearly visible—as he’d guessed, nature had decided when this baby was going to be born. “Guess what, Mama? Baby’s decided the time is now. We can see the top of its head. Push hard next time you have a contraction.”
“Oh, God! No! I’m...I don’t want it to be this way.”
Gabby had turned to speak into the microphone around her neck, presumably to call Neonatal and get the troops ready, but now reached to squeeze Trina’s hand as she moaned again. “I know, I’m sorry. But, ready or not, here he comes. Breathe now, it’s going to be just fine. Give us a push, okay? Another one.”
“Great job. Here he comes! I’ve got his head now.” He gently grasped the infant’s head, sliding his fingers up to hold the tiny shoulders. “Another push.”
As the mother labored, Gabriella kept up her encouragement. “You’re doing an amazing job, Trina. Remember to breathe. Puff, puff, puff. One more. Oh, my, you’ve done it! He’s here, and so beautiful!”