Secret Prince's Christmas Seduction

by Carol Marinelli

  For the first time in her life Antonietta wanted to be intimate with a man. To taste his kiss again and to know the bliss denied to her until now.

  This was so different—so new and so transforming.

  And her choice entirely.

  Her usual caution lay somewhere between the furthest star and the moon. She knew now how good a kiss should be, and only wanted more of the same.

  And so she said what was in her heart.

  ‘Take me to bed.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  RAFE DID NOT recall his minders.

  Antonietta removed her high heels and they walked hand in hand across the moon-drenched grounds of the monastery on a clear Silibri night.

  Where there had been years of turmoil and angst, now there was clarity and certainty. For there was no thought as to the outcome, or to tomorrow, just the bliss of now and this night.

  ‘We can’t go through the foyer,’ Antonietta said.

  ‘Of course not,’ Rafe agreed. ‘I have my own entrance. Though you would...’

  His voice trailed off and she felt his grip tighten on her hand. She looked up to see what had stopped him from speaking, though his stride did not falter.

  Antonietta looked to where his gaze fell and there at the foot of the steps was a suited man—one of his security detail. She attempted a small joke. ‘He can’t stop you from entering, surely...?’

  And then it was her voice that trailed off as she realised that of course it was not Rafe who was the problem.

  It was her.

  But the security man said nothing. He merely stepped aside. And as Antonietta glanced up at Rafe she saw why—the man would surely not dare to question him, for the look Rafe gave him could freeze molten lava and halt a lion’s approach.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Antonietta asked, recalling their conversation about ‘paperwork’.

  ‘Of course not,’ Rafe said, for he knew he would deal with the issues raised tomorrow. And there would be issues—of that he was certain. For Antonietta had been neither vetted nor approved. And the security guard had unnerved her.

  Rafe could not know of her trepidation as he pushed open the French windows and they stepped into the lounge of his suite.

  The turn-down service had been in and a fire was lit.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he offered.

  She was about to decline, but then she glanced at the open doors to the bedroom and saw the vast bed. She decided she needed to pause things for a moment, if only to slow her heartbeat down.

  ‘Please.’

  She took in a deep breath as he poured, and could not decipher whether it was terror or desire that coursed through her.

  Both, she decided as they clinked glasses.

  But a drink didn’t hold him back for long.

  ‘Come here,’ he told her, and put down his glass.

  Antonietta did the same, and as she walked towards him it felt less seamless, and his kiss was different too.

  It was thorough, it was hungry, and she felt her bravado fading.

  She was tumbling with confusion, on an impossible see-saw as she kissed him back. Because he sent her skywards with his hands, with his mouth, with the way he held her against him.

  He took her hand and guided it to where he was hard, and she felt as if the giddy high of the sky and then her nerves had her meeting the ground with a thud.

  And she did not know how to reach the sky again.

  And she could not fake her way through it.

  ‘Rafe...’ She had to tear her mouth from his, had to force her breathless throat to form words. ‘I’ve never...’

  Rafe did not care if she had never been into one-night stands.

  He did not care if this was not something she often did.

  But then he saw her pupils were dilated—and not just with desire. He recognised fear, and though he held her still, he froze absolutely.

  ‘I’ve never slept with anyone before,’ she said.

  He dropped her.

  Oh, she did not actually tumble to the ground, but she felt the see-saw crash down and she sank further without his touch.

  ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’

  ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.’

  ‘Not notice! What the—?’

  How the hell could she possibly think he might miss such a detail? But then his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  ‘Or were you hoping that I’d be too far gone to care?’ he accused.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  She really didn’t.

  He watched as she pulled up the straps on her dress, her pert nipples visible beneath the sheer fabric because their arousal remained. It was a fire that would not die, and had her words not halted him they would have been locked together now, with no thought to the consequences.

  Rafe knew it.

  Absolutely he knew it.

  And it was an unfamiliar thing—for he always maintained a semblance of control and never forgot he was royal.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Antonietta said again, her voice rising this time, and Rafe felt the anger recede, for she really didn’t know. She wasn’t trying to trap him, he realised. She was clueless, not ruthless.

  ‘You should have told me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Antonietta agreed. ‘But if I had I would be tucked up in bed alone now.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Because you want someone experienced. You want—’

  ‘Antonietta,’ he interrupted, ‘I leave tomorrow.’

  She didn’t blink, he noted. At least not until a log on the fire dropped, and it spat sparks and hissed for a moment before it settled.

  ‘I know that,’ she said finally.

  ‘If you have waited this long—’

  ‘Oh, please don’t!’ Antonietta interrupted him now, a little embarrassed and a lot angry. ‘Please don’t tell me that I must be saving myself for marriage, for Mr Right...’

  ‘Why have you waited, then?’

  ‘Because.’

  Now she was embarrassed, and she reached for her shawl rather than answer him. She picked up her bag, ready to head out into the night, but he caught her arm.

  ‘Because?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’ve never wanted anyone until now!’ She shouted it, and continued to shout. ‘My fiancé kept trying and I loathed it. I loathed every touch and every kiss and every attempt—’ Her chest shuddered as she took in ragged gulps of air.

  ‘Every attempt?’ Rafe checked. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He tried—several times—but I fought him off.’

  There—she had said it and the sky had not fallen. She had told someone. In fact she had admitted to this man whom she had known only a few days, something she had never revealed to her family or even her dearest friend.

  Perhaps it was because she knew Rafe was leaving, she pondered briefly.

  ‘I told him that I was saving myself for marriage; it was the only way I could keep him back. So please don’t assume you know my reasons for waiting.’

  ‘Did he hurt you?’ Rafe was aware of the anger in his own voice and fought to check it, for his anger was not aimed at her. Then he answered his own question. ‘Of course he did.’

  ‘No,’ she countered. ‘Not really.’ For even all these years later there was no neat category for what had taken place on those long-ago nights, and she didn’t want to discuss it. ‘You are not a counsellor—and I came here to move on, not to look back.’

  She looked down to his hand, still closed around her wrist, but looser now.

  ‘I’ll say goodnight,’ she said.

  Yet Rafe could not leave things there. He let go of her wrist, and as he watched Antonietta gather her things there were two people that Rafe loathed right now.

/>   The man who had attempted to force her.

  And the man who had tonight denied her.

  ‘Antonietta...’ He could see her confusion, could still feel the hum of angry words that hung in the air, and he did not want her leaving like this. ‘I would never have brought you back here had I known you were a virgin.’

  ‘We’ve already established that,’ she clipped.

  ‘Listen to me!’ he snapped back.

  And she liked it that he snapped. She liked his impatience, and the fact that he did not suddenly treat her like fragile glass, that her past did not change them.

  ‘I am trying to explain...’

  ‘You don’t want me,’ Antonietta said. ‘I think you have made that exceptionally clear.’

  ‘Of course I want you!’

  He sounded cross, and yet his tone did not trouble her.

  It felt like a row. Yet it did not unnerve her.

  For when she looked, when she met his navy eyes, there was desire rather than ire blazing in his eyes.

  And it almost floored her.

  ‘Antonietta.’

  He took a breath and it seemed to her as if he was preparing her for bad news.

  ‘I will be leaving tomorrow.’

  Was that it? The bad news? She knew that already.

  ‘Rafe...’

  She did not know how best to put it that she was not terrified of his leaving. She was terrified of being sent away!

  Tomorrow? She had dreaded so many tomorrows. And she had loathed so many yesterdays.

  ‘I don’t care what happens in the morning.’

  It sounded reckless, yet right now she felt no caution.

  Rafe knew more about her than any other person on this earth. He knew her secrets. And with his kiss he had disproved her own theory, for it turned out that Antonietta could want, could be folded over with desire and crave a man’s touch.

  ‘I don’t care that you’re leaving tomorrow,’ she told him. ‘I care only that you’re asking me to leave now.’

  He weighed her words as he stood there. And they were heavy ones, for she was trusting herself to him.

  ‘I’m not asking you to leave,’ Rafe said. ‘I’m just asking if you are sure.’

  She was.

  Absolutely.

  As certain as she had been at the door to her cottage.

  More certain than she had been as they’d walked on the moon-drenched grass.

  Completely certain now.

  And nervous.

  Yet excited as Rafe took her hand and led her to the master bedroom.

  * * *

  It was warm in there. The turn-down service had been in and the fire was roaring. She wondered if he would open the French windows to let in some cool air, but instead he threw two more logs on the roaring fire and then came over to her.

  ‘What am I to do with you?’ Rafe asked, and she did not know how to answer. He smoothed back the hair from her face and his gaze was assessing. ‘Are you scared?’

  ‘No,’ Antonietta said. ‘Well, a bit—but not like I once was.’

  The room was too hot, and they stood just a little too close to the fire. But she liked it. For the fire felt like an iceberg and the air seemed cool compared to the heat pooling low in her belly and spreading down her thighs.

  Yet Rafe touched her not.

  Deliberately so.

  This would be no attempt.

  He loathed it that she had been touched while unwilling, and he would not move even so much as a finger until she approached him, though he’d offer direction.

  ‘Take off your dress,’ he told her, and she blinked, because she had thought that Rafe would take care of that. But Rafe did not cajole her, he did not sweet talk or wheedle, he simply made her want.

  And it felt delicious.

  For the first time ever she rued Aurora’s dressmaking skills, for it took her a moment to find the tiny concealed zip at the side. She pulled it down with shaky hands and then stood trembling and a little shy as it fell to the ground.

  She stood only in her knickers. As a reflex, she covered her breasts with her arm. But then she pondered her own disappointment if Rafe were to undress and do the same, and she took a breath and peeled her arm away, let it fall to the side.

  Rafe cast his gaze the length of her slender frame, to her pert breasts and the dark areolae, the stiffened nipples that he ached to touch—but resistance was a turn-on, he was finding.

  She pushed her knickers down without his instruction, and had to put a hand up, resting it on his chest to steady herself. He hissed out a long intake of breath.

  He reached out and traced one manicured finger from her collarbone to her breast, until her own breath choked her. The feel of his hand on her breast was sublime and she looked down, somewhat fascinated. For the room felt like a sauna, and yet her dark nipples peaked to his touch as if they were smeared in Nebrodi snow.

  He was sure that she was sure.

  So sure that he lifted her by the hips and their mouths met as if deprived. She coiled her legs around his torso and his hand roamed her naked body as they kissed.

  She did not know how sexy she was, Rafe thought, for he had thought her shy and reticent and yet she came alive in his hands.

  He wanted to tear off his clothes, just to feel her naked against him, but there was a supreme pleasure in her naked warm body wrapped around him.

  He placed her down on the bed that she had made that very morning. The sheets that smelt of summer were cool and yet soft on her naked skin, and she made no attempt to cover herself, just lay and watched as he undressed.

  She had seen him nearly naked, but on those occasions she had averted her eyes and tried not to look. Now there was no need to be chaste, or embarrassed by her inquisitiveness, and she watched unashamedly as he peeled off his shirt and revealed his chest.

  Rafe was impatient to be naked and to join her. Rarely did he have to tell himself to slow down, and yet her hungry eyes beckoned. The rosy blush spread as if she held a fan across her chest and cheeks, and the way she bit down on her lip as he unbuckled his belt made undressing a less than seamless task, for he could not tear his eyes from her.

  Nor could she tear hers from him. For she might have seen him nearly naked and considered him perfection, but completely exposed Rafe was magnificent.

  Far more magnificent than she knew what to do with.

  And when she saw him, so strong and erect, there was a stroke of desire so low in her stomach that she pulled up her knees.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ he told her.

  ‘I’m not,’ Antonietta said, in a voice that sounded too thick and too low.

  And then she looked at him again, and wondered how they might possibly fit.

  But she was not scared. She knew that because before fear had made her fight like a cat and slam her legs closed.

  Fear had never made her approach. And it was not fear that had her rising to her knees and prowling across the bed towards him.

  For the first time they were face to face, and yet only for a moment did they look into each other’s eyes. There was so much to explore, to touch and to feel, and Antonietta had been resisting doing so almost since they had met, since their first conversation.

  But now she could touch those wide shoulders, feel their strength and his warm skin beneath her fingers. Now she could run her hand down his chest and explore the mahogany nipples, pressing the pads of her fingers in. She ached to kiss them, and yet there was even more she ached to feel. She perused the taut planes of his stomach and then turned her hand so the backs of her fingers brushed the snaky line of dark hair.

  Daring herself, she touched his thick member, surprised when it twitched as she held him alive and firm in her nervous palm. He slid through her hands and Rafe let her explore him, though his teeth were
gritted together, for he longed to wrap his hand tight over hers. But to show her his rhythm would finish him, so he sank into her untutored perusal and explored her instead.

  His hands were light on her breasts, yet her nipples hardened further and almost stung, so that she yearned for the wetness of his mouth. He did not give it. Instead his hands slid slowly down, past the curve of her waist, and held her hips, pulling her closer to him and rocking her, so that he nudged against her and left a silver trail on her stomach.

  Her breathing hitched and she did not know how to get it back to its rhythm. When his hand slid between her thighs she gave in, and just rested her head on his chest.

  Her soft moans spoke of her pleasure as he parted damp curls. Feeling her warm and ready, Rafe slid his fingers into her warm folds and explored her.

  ‘There...’ she breathed.

  It was a needless instruction, because he already was there, but she pressed her face into his chest and inhaled his scent. One large hand cupped her buttock as the other burrowed into her tight, warm space.

  And she didn’t just let him—Antonietta wanted him.

  She wanted the tiny volts of pleasure he shot through her, and she wanted the salty taste of his skin on her lips and tongue, and the tears that squeezed from her eyes were absolutely ones of pleasure.

  And when he was sure she was ready—when he could feel she was on the delicious edge, and when he knew that her pleasure might finish him—Rafe withdrew his hand and opened the bedside drawer.

  The tearing of foil felt like a zip tightening low in her stomach, and Antonietta watched, held in a spell of his making, as he sheathed himself.

  She bit down on her lip rather than admit that she preferred the velvet skin naked.

  But then her lip broke free, and unwittingly she voiced her thoughts. ‘I want to feel you in me...’

  Rafe pulled a breath in. Those words from anyone else would have served as a warning. Yet tonight those words were a mirror of his own thoughts.

  ‘And you shall,’ he told her as he laid her down.

  The room was almost stifling, yet it only heightened the pleasure. Her body was flushed and pliant, and when he came over her Antonietta’s mouth met his.

  He nudged at her entrance and she closed her eyes as he finally took her—took her there and back on a spectrum of pleasure and pain as he filled her.