Prince's Son of Scandal Read online

  “The privilege of position?” she teased.

  “I’ve never seen anyone glow like you. I’m enthralled.” Again, misgiving seemed to flicker like a shadow across his face. He didn’t like admitting to whatever he was feeling, but it added to her own exuberance.

  “I feel like... I can’t even describe it. Like it’s Christmas. Like anything is possible.” She brought her gaze down from the chandelier into the turquoise blue of his eyes.

  She reminded herself that becoming over-excited could have a rebound effect. She didn’t want to backslide. It would be a long fall from this height.

  Then she forgot any sense of caution when he said, “I need to kiss you.” The desire in his words was a sensual squeeze that stole her breath.

  A very long time ago, she had been quick to agree to anything that sounded adventurous. A dungeon full of shackles and bars had kept her grounded since then, but somehow, with a few words, this man reached past all the darkness and invited her into the light. To be the impulsive, audacious person she was in her heart.

  “Me, too,” she said through sensitized lips. It’s only a kiss.

  His sharp gaze moved beyond her. The next thing she knew, he had her off the dance floor, through a small break in the crowd and into an alcove hidden by the giant fronds of a potted plant.

  She wasn’t given time to decide whether she’d been too quick to agree. His arm tightened across the small of her back, pulling her in, arching her against the layers of his tuxedo. He was steely beneath his civilized covering. He knew what he wanted. His hot mouth covered hers without hesitation.

  For a second, she was terrified. Not of him, but of how she would react. Would she panic?

  Then her senses took in the way his mouth fit against hers, moving to part her lips, questing for her response. Something primitive moved in her, shaking her foundations, waking the woman she might have been if her life had been different, drawing her beyond old traumas into a place she barely understood.

  Pleasure flooded her, making her stiffen, wary of such a strong reaction, but primal need quickly took over. Her brain might not be able to process what was going on, but her body knew how to respond.

  Rather than put the brakes on, her hands went behind his neck. She found herself running her fingers into his short hair, shaping the back of his head as she drew herself up, parting her lips so he could plunder at will.

  His arms tightened around her and she thought he made a growling noise. It should have scared her. Male aggression, especially the sexual kind, was something she’d taken pains to avoid.

  Strangely, with excitement pulsing through her, she found herself thrilled by his response. She kissed him back with abandon, just as if she knew what she was doing.

  Something flashed behind her closed eyes and he abruptly lifted his head.

  “That was a camera,” he muttered, fingers digging in near her tailbone as he pressed her close enough to feel the thick shape straining the front of his trousers. “Let’s find some privacy.”

  Her analytical mind urged caution, but her old self, her true self, trusted her instincts. She released a breathy, “Let’s.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE DIPPED HIS head to lightly scrape his teeth against her neck, urging against her ear, “You leave first. I’ll follow you upstairs.”

  She gasped, mind going blank before a million thoughts rushed in.

  “You have a room here? In the hotel?” What had she thought when he had said privacy? Was the idea of being alone with him intriguing or alarming?

  “The penthouse, yes.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Of course.” Good gracious he was handsome, even when he frowned. His features weren’t too refined. There was just enough toughness in the intensity of his gaze, just enough stubbornness in the square of his jaw to make him look stern and rugged.

  As he read her hesitation, his hand cupped the side of her head while his gaze flicked with irritation at the noise around them. “I want you to myself.”

  Empathy panged within her. She knew the wear and tear that being in the spotlight took on a person. She instantly wanted to give him the break he needed. He was a sophisticated man. She had nothing to fear from him physically, but was compelled to say, “I have guards. For a reason.”

  She was using her sister’s tonight, both to give her own a much-deserved night off as well as to maintain the illusion she was her twin. She should tell him who she was.

  “The room is completely secure. More secure than here,” he added, mouth twisting in dismay at their having been photographed. He led her back to their table. “I won’t keep you waiting long.”

  Voices of caution crowded into her head, but when would she have a free pass like this again? When would she meet a man who made her feel anything like this? It wasn’t just physical, although that part was so heady she felt drunk, but there was a rarity, too. There were other men in the world who were a safe bet, men vetted by her brothers, but when would she feel this pull? This compulsion to know more about this man?

  Before she talked herself out of it, she let her finger press up for the penthouse. It wasn’t that she didn’t have misgivings, or that she ignored them, she overcame them. It was different. It was another small triumph that had her stepping lightly off the elevator onto thickly carpeted floor.

  It was easy to spot the Prince’s room. Two guards were stationed outside the door. Her own accompanied her as she approached them.

  “Mademoiselle Sauveterre,” one greeted with a respectful nod. “We were notified to expect you.” He stepped inside and invited her guard to sweep the rooms.

  Both men behaved with the utmost professionalism, not betraying a hint of judgment about what they must know was a preliminary for seduction.

  A smile touched her mouth as she thought about how her brothers would blow their tops if they knew where she was right now, even though they had both been on the Prince’s side of this equation hundreds of times, the hypocrites.

  Then she was left alone and she took in the elegant shades of ivory and sage green on the walls and the furnishings. A glass of watered-down Scotch had been abandoned on an end table, ice long melted. She sniffed, then dared a sip, thought about looking at the view, then decided to leave the drapes closed.

  The double doors to the bedroom stood open. She stared at the bed, taking another quick sip of liquid courage just as the main door opened. His star power impacted her anew, making her heart skip.

  “You made yourself comfortable. Good.”

  “This is yours.” She tilted the glass, then set it aside, instantly wishing she’d kept it to keep her hands busy.

  “I’ll make you a fresh one. Or, how about champagne?” He moved to the bar. As he peeled the foil from a bottle, the crinkle seemed overly loud.

  This was the moment she should have admitted she was Trella.

  A very real fear sat within that admission—that he would develop his own misgivings. He would either want explanations she didn’t care to give, or he might jump to conclusions that made him averse to being with her. In no scenario did she imagine this exciting, lighthearted atmosphere would continue.

  “You’re nervous,” he noted as he popped the cork.

  “You’re observant,” she said, compelled to at least confess, “I don’t do this.”

  It was true no matter which twin she represented. Gili running away for a weekend with a prince was as out of character as her being here with this one.

  “I already guessed that.” He set two glasses as he poured, canting his head to eye her. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

  She choked. “No.”

  True again for both twins, but she had to look away, mind skipping off the dark memory like a stone off the water’s surface.

  No, that was another
reason she was here. Being alone with a man was another snapped link in the chain that bound her to the past. She was really, really proud of herself right now. Even though her proffered excuse of “I’m just out of my comfort zone” was the understatement of the year.

  He brought the glasses across the room to her and offered her one. “Saluti.”

  “Salud.”

  They sipped, gazes locked, unspoken expectations hovering between them. Her throat grew abraded by the bubbles.

  “What if I change my mind about being here?” she asked in a soft rasp.

  “Then I will be disappointed.” His intent expression didn’t change.

  “Angry?”

  “Disappointed. Very disappointed, bella.” His gaze acted like wildfire, igniting her blood as he swept it across her cheek and down her throat.

  He turned away to set music playing. The notes were low and sultry, matching the thick feeling in her veins, the sensual throb of her pulse.

  “Either way, I’m pleased to have you to myself.” He came back to her, steps laconic, touch smooth and confident as he looped his arm around her. “Whether you want to talk or dance or...pass the time in other ways.”

  He swayed them into a dance that was really just the press of two bodies. Foreplay. They both still held their champagne flutes. Held gazes.

  “I wasn’t in the mood to fight other men for your attention.”

  “Was anyone else even trying? I hadn’t noticed.” She batted her lashes.

  His mouth tilted. “I like that wit, bella. I find myself regretting we only have tonight.”

  She tucked her chin and gave him an admonishing look. “You’re patronizing me again. I don’t need the rules spelled out. I’m not that green.”

  “See? Such sharp intelligence is the sort of thing that holds my interest longer than a few hours.”

  “Is that how long your liaisons usually last?”

  He stopped dancing, arm remaining across her back, but loosely. “That’s probably not a good topic of conversation.”

  “I know.” Bubbles tickled her nose as she sipped, trying to wash away a strange bitterness on her tongue. It shouldn’t matter what his past looked like. Whatever man eventually attached himself to her wouldn’t come to her pristine. She couldn’t expect it when she had such a complicated history herself. “I think I’m looking for reasons not to like you so I won’t feel so...”

  She frowned. The hand she’d rested on his shoulder slid down to splay on his chest as if she had the right to touch him with such familiarity, but touching him felt very natural. Her fingertips dipped beneath the ribbon of red, sliding the tips of her polished nails beneath it as she ever so slightly lifted it off the crispness of his shirt.

  “I’m not a pushover. I’m normally the most contrary person you could imagine. A fighter.” Her family told her that all the time, so why was she letting this happen? Her usual streak of rebellion was absent.

  Actually, she realized with a spark of insight, it was directed against the life she’d been leading, pushing her to break free of old restraints. No one was stopping her from spending a night with a man except her. All she had to do was choose to.

  “I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m sincere that I wish we had more time to get to know one another, but my life has never allowed for long term relationships.” His hand shifted to splay in a warm brand against her lower back, offering a soothing caress. “For what it’s worth—” He bit the inside of his cheek, seeming to weigh what he was about to say. The shadow moved behind his eyes again, telling her that he was uncomfortable with how revealing his words were. “If you walked out of here right now, I wouldn’t go looking for someone else. You’re the only woman I want to be with tonight.”

  “Why?” It came out of her with a pang of disbelief. “Please don’t say it’s because you like the way I look.” She didn’t want him to want Gili. It would break her heart—it really would.

  His breath came out in a soft snort of disbelief. “Because of the way we make each other feel.”

  He lowered his head to graze his damp lips along her jaw and down to her neck, making her shiver. Her nipples pulled tight so quickly they stung. He chuckled softly at the way she audibly caught her breath.

  “We’re positively volatile.” His hot breath bathed her ear before his teeth lightly closed on her lobe, nearly causing her knees to buckle.

  She pressed her hand more firmly to his chest.

  “No?” He drew back, but held her close. Held her up, if she was honest.

  “I’m trying to think,” she gasped, nearly overwhelmed by sensations that were the furthest thing from fear.

  “And you can’t? Then we feel the same.” His tight smile only made the edgy fist of need inside her clench harder. “Feel, bella. Feel how much you’re exciting me.” He moved her hand all the way under the sash, so the pound of his heart slammed into her palm. “This isn’t anything I’ve ever experienced, either.”

  Her scalp tingled. She dropped her champagne glass, ignoring the delicate break of crystal, wanting too badly to touch him with both hands. She slid her fingers to the back of his neck and raised her mouth, inviting him to kiss her. It was pure instinct and he didn’t hesitate, covering her parted lips as though he’d been let off his leash after having been tempted for too long.

  The world stopped then spun the other way, dizzying her. She made one whimpering noise, astonished by how thoroughly such a thing could devastate her, wilting all her muscles.

  She distantly heard another delicate shatter, then he picked her up, lifting his head to reveal a fierce expression. Victory? Not quite, but there was something conquering there. Something exalted.

  Yet his bright gaze asked a question.

  She nodded, unable to speak, just gave herself up to it, to him. She knew when to fight her body and when to surrender. Perhaps it was the silver lining to all those years of having to accept that physiology trumped logic. This was bigger than anything she could make sense of.

  He set her on the bed and she watched him throw off his jacket, shaken by the feelings that were carving a valley through her. He joined her and dragged her half under him, kissing her again. Thorough, drugging kisses that set her alight, yet she felt stiff and frozen.

  “What’s wrong?” He lifted his head, proving himself to be attuned to her in a way that was reassuring and disturbing all at once.

  “I’m shy,” she admitted, ducking her head as she said it because that wasn’t her at all. Her eyes stung with emotive tears at how monumental this was. She was alone with a man, on a bed, and he had set the sun inside her. He made it radiate outward, filling her with such heat and joy she was going to burst. “I want to touch you, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself. I don’t know if I can contain myself.”

  “Don’t even try.” His voice brimmed with graveled warning, which might have made her chuckle, but she released her breath and let her hands move to greedily stake a claim.

  He was firm everywhere, taut and strong. Hot. Her fingers discovered the textures of his clothes, then slid beneath his shirt as he yanked it free of his belted pants. He made an approving noise as she found satin skin and the tension of his abdomen, then the shape of his rib cage and the sleek muscles across his chest. The sharp beads of his nipples fascinated her.

  She made her own appreciative noises, utterly rapt with the contrast of his body to her own, all flat planes and crisp hair and indomitable strength.

  He released her zip and dragged down the loosened front of her dress. As he bared her breasts, something elemental gripped her. The spirit of womanhood. She melted onto her back and arched, emphasizing their differences, liking that he made a noise that sounded almost suffering, yet growly and ferocious. He opened his mouth and engulfed her in such a place of earthy pleasure, she released her own cry of agonized
joy.

  Volatile. Was that what this was? She hadn’t known she could feel like this, frantic yet intoxicated. Impatient yet timeless. She wanted to stay like this forever, running their hands over each other, kissing, mouths needing to fuse and breathing be damned. But as his hands moved on her, shifting silk with a touch so hot it burned her through the fabric, she wanted more. So much more.

  His fingertips grazed the slit in her gown and she found herself offering more of her leg then trembling in anticipation, waiting for the feel of his touch on her skin. The pet of his hand on the outside of her thigh made her shiver. She gloried in the way he kissed her harder, deeper, hand shaping her hip, exploring her belly, then tracking to her other thigh. He squeezed the taut muscle then moved with delicious confidence to cup the center of her.

  Breath stalling, eyes opening, she waited for panic, but before she could entertain a grim memory, he firmed his touch and rocked his hand, sending a jolt of incredible pleasure through her pelvis. Her eyelids grew heavy again and she found herself lifting, spellbound by the lightning bolts of sensation that grew in strength as they kissed and he caressed her.

  How could anything feel this good?

  She wanted to touch him as intimately, but she could hardly think of anything but how he was making her feel. Just as she tried to shape him through his pants, his touch changed, exploring beneath silk with knowledge and intention.

  She bucked in reaction. “I can’t—My heart is going to explode.”

  She moved a reflexive hand to cover his, not quite stopping him, because the slide of his fingers against her was so mesmerizing, but so sensitizing she almost couldn’t bear it. Her entire focus narrowed to that delicate circle and stroke.

  “I want to be inside you, but I don’t want to stop touching you. Like that?” He pushed a long finger into her.

  She couldn’t speak, could only hear a keening noise that came from her as he penetrated and circled where she was so sensitive and molten that she ached. She tightened, trying to savor, trying to hold back the build, but wanton mindlessness took over. Her hips danced against his hand, the pleasure growing too acute to bear, tension growing and growing until she couldn’t stand it—