Desire—a thing she had forgotten she even had the capacity to feel—was elbowing the other emotions out of the way, hammering with both fists, a hammering so hard it reverberated through her body, echoing the loudest in the secret cave of her femininity. She could feel it now—the slow ache of need beating with a primal pulse she could not ignore even if she tried.
She sent him a haughty look that belied the sensual tumult that was going on in her body. ‘I don’t mind you calling me Lottie in private but please desist in calling me those ridiculous endearments. I have no time for such falsity.’
He threw his head back and laughed his deep melodious laugh. ‘You are such a cutie pie. I feel like I’ve time travelled or something. It’s like spending time with a character out of a Jane Austen novel. Did you go to Prim and Proper School or something to learn to talk like that?’
She gave him a gimlet glare. ‘Must you be so … so annoying?’
‘All part of the service, milady.’ He swept her a Regency bow before returning his glinting gaze to hers.
Lottie felt a reluctant smile twitch at her mouth. ‘You are quite possibly the most immature and shallowest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. Do you take anything in life seriously?’
He leapt up and gave a victory punch to the air. ‘Yes! I did it! I made the prickly little princess smile.’ He turned towards the palace, cupping his hands around his mouth as if to make an important announcement. ‘Hey, everybody—’
‘Stop it!’ Lottie grabbed at his wrists but somehow he ended up wrapping his fingers around hers. She glanced down at the dark tan of his fingers overlapping one another around her wrists and her insides shifted like books being toppled off a shelf. Heat seared through every layer of her skin like a red-hot brand, igniting those glowing embers deep in her core.
His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly, as if he was countering any attempt on her part to escape the gentle handcuffing of his fingers. She drew in a scratchy breath as he closed the gap between their bodies without even seeming to take a step.
His eyes were heavily lidded, sleepy and unbelievably sexy. Bedroom eyes. I-want-to-have-sex-with-you eyes. His mouth came down and, with a whisper-soft press, briefly touched hers. It left her lips aching and tingling for more but he didn’t prolong the contact.
He pulled back and smiled down at her, his eyes dancing with devilry. ‘If I let go of your hands, are you going to slap me?’
Her chin went up again. ‘Why don’t you try it and see?’
His gaze went back to her mouth. ‘If I’m going to get slapped, then I might as well make sure it’s worth it, don’t you think?’
If he wanted an answer he didn’t give her time to give one. Instead he swooped down and covered her mouth in a kiss that tasted of hot-blooded man and primal want with a generous garnish of ruthlessness.
The brazen thrust of his tongue as he entered her mouth made her heart rate skyrocket. But while that first thrust had been bold, he followed it up with cajoling sweeps and subtle dives that made her skin tighten and then pull away from her bones as it rose up in goose bumps.
He explored her mouth as if it were a dish he had never tried before and wanted to savour every moment of the experience. He took a gentle nip of her lower lip, pulling at it with his teeth in a playful tug that melted her resolve like a knob of butter on a barbecue. He stroked his tongue over her top lip, intricately tracing its curve, before entering her mouth again with a spine-tingling stab of purely sexual intent.
Her body was pressed so firmly against his she could feel every powerful throb of his erection against her belly. It seemed to resonate in perfect time with that pulsing ache in her womb. Her senses weren’t just reeling; they were spinning out of control. Desire was a blazing fire inside her flesh, racing through the network of her veins, firing up every nerve and cell with combustible force. Her breasts felt acutely sensitive where they were crushed against the hard wall of his chest, her nipples tightly budded in response to her arousal. Her inner core was already damp and humid with want. She could feel the warm satin silkiness of it when she moved her body against the deliciously tempting friction of his.
His hands left her wrists and splayed through her hair, which somehow was now tousled about her shoulders instead of restrained behind her head. He captured a thick handful of it as he deepened the kiss. There was something almost primitive about his hold, like an alpha male ruthlessly taking control of the mate he had selected for his pleasure. It unleashed something equally primal in her. She nipped at his lower lip with kittenish bites, sweeping her tongue over it each time she released it.
He groaned deep in his throat and his hand tightened in her hair almost to the point of pain. He took control of her mouth by covering it again with his, crushing her lips beneath the hot firm pressure of his. His tongue mated with hers in a sexy coupling that made her stomach drop like a desk drawer pulled out too quickly.
Her hands were around his neck, her fingers delving into the thick pelt of his hair, her mouth held captive by the mesmerising magic of his. I want this. I want you. I want to be wanted. It was like a silent mantra inside her head in perfect time with every thudding heartbeat that was sending her blood through her veins at a dizzying speed.
He suddenly pulled back and glinted at her with those sinfully dark eyes. ‘Let’s find a room. Your palace or mine?’
Lottie was jolted out of the sensual spell he had woven around her like a fist thrusting through a cobweb. What was she doing? Where was her poise and self-control? One kiss and she was his for the asking?
Not going to happen.
Did he really think she was going to dive headfirst into his bed just like every other woman he made a play for, only to have him dismiss her like a toy that no longer held its initial appeal? He looked so assured, so supremely confident. Arrogant. She would be just another notch on his bedpost; no doubt her royal status would be of particular appeal to such a shallow celebrity trophy hunter. She had learned that lesson before—the hard way.
She wasn’t naive enough to fall for it again.
Not any more.
But rather than give him the satisfaction to know he had got so far under her skin she decided to go along with it … to a point. It would be fun to have the last laugh, to score a few points against him.
Lottie put on a worldly look, even managing a coquettish smile. ‘Your place. Shall we say in half an hour?’
‘Make it an hour.’ His dark eyes glinted again. ‘I want to slip into something more comfortable.’
LOTTIE WAS CONGRATULATING herself as she walked on the main beach an hour later. She could picture Lucca Chatsfield in his penthouse with a bottle of the finest French champagne in an ice bucket, the sheets on his king-size bed laid back in preparation, maybe even some rose petals scattered there. Some in-house scented candles burning on the bedside table with their scent of bergamot and sandalwood. His lean and toned body draped in a Chatsfield blue silk bathrobe with its gold embroidered C on the right breast, while he waited for her to knock on the door to attend one of his legendary scenes of seduction.
