“I’m too busy for that sort of thing,” she said with a little wave of her hand.
“Too busy doing your princess thing,” he scoffed. “Right. Well, let me warn you, Princess, those Cinderella glass slippers of yours are liable to get broken in the real world. And you’ve got to be prepared for that. Now sit down and put your elbow on this table.”
“One does not put one’s elbows on a table,” she informed him before sitting down.
“One does if one is arm wrestling. Here, put your elbow on the table and bend your arm like this.” He showed her. “Now grip my hand and try to push my arm over.”
She frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”
“To show me how strong you are.”
“Why do I have to be strong? I thought that was your job.”
“I might need you as backup,” he said mockingly.
She took him seriously. “Oh, I see.” She blinked at him and leaned forward, thereby revealing an awesome amount of cleavage.
While his eyes were glued to her breasts, she adroitly shoved his arm almost to the table before he realized what she was up to. The little tease!
He recovered quickly and had her arm down in a flash. Tugging her to her feet a moment later, he began his next spiel. “I plan on teaching you some basic self-defense moves. If someone should grab you from behind like this—” He put his arms around Vanessa, pinning her arms to her sides. “I’m going to show you how you should respond.” He released her to move in front of her. “Now you put your arms around me as I just did you.”
She did as he ordered.
A thrill of forbidden excitement shot through her. Royal protocol precluded a princess from getting up close and personal with a U.S. Marine. Or with any other man, for that matter, unless his bloodlines were as pedigreed as her own and the man had been approved by her father.
Once, back when she was three or four, she’d left the opening of a new school in her country’s capital city of St. Kristoff where she’d been expected to stand still like a dutiful little princess. But she’d sneaked off to the playground where the other children had been playing tag. She’d envied the children their laughter and had wanted to join in the fun.
Instead, she’d stumbled over her own feet and had tumbled into the grass.
Looking up, she’d seen her father standing in the doorway to the school, a frown and a look of intense disappointment on his face.
“Stand up and stop being such a wild child,” he’d ordered her. “A princess never cries.”
She’d tried for years not to disappoint him, but had never quite succeeded in silencing that secret inner little girl that wanted to play tag. The truth was, she was still a wild child at heart. And standing there with her arms around Mark made her feel gloriously alive for the first time in years.
Unaware of the memories streaking through her mind, Mark continued giving orders in his brisk Marine voice. “There are several ways to respond to an attack from the rear like this. You can stomp your attacker’s foot. You can perform a shin scrape with the heel of your shoe. Or you can bend your knee for a backward kick to the groin with your heel. Do you understand those moves?”
“Yes.” She understood them but was distracted by her body pressed against his, spoon fashion. She was tall for a princess. The term gangly had been applied to her more than once. “Vertical Vanessa” was another one the European tabloids had used. But Mark was taller by several inches. He had to be over six foot.
While she was debating his height, Mark was moving on to the next segment. “Most attacks against women come from the front. Either the choke or the slap. To protect yourself from the slap, you put your forearm up like this.” He illustrated. “Now put your hands around my throat as if you were going to choke me.”
When she hesitated, he said, “Just think how aggravated you were with me when I called your plans lame.”
Nodding, she reached out. His skin was warm beneath her fingers. She could feel his Adam’s apple against her thumbs.
“The proper response to a choke hold is to push your attacker’s pinkies away from you,” he said, bending her fingers back, gently enough not to hurt her but firmly enough for her to see how such a move done vigorously would cause a surprising amount of pain.
“Think you got that?” he asked.
“Yes.” She’d also gotten all hot and bothered by all this close body contact. Her cheeks felt flushed, and her forehead was damp with sweat. A princess was never allowed to sweat. Not even on a state visit to India in a hundred-and-ten-degree heat. She’d almost passed out on that visit, but she hadn’t. And she hadn’t visibly sweated. Until now.
Excitement shot through her, heating her skin wherever they touched. A new kind of chemistry sizzled between them, a male-female chemistry that was sexy and intense.
“Good.”
“Mmm, good.” She had no idea what he was talking about. She felt all dreamy and distracted.
“But sometimes, Princess—” He snared her in his arms, flashed a devilishly sexy smile at her and then lowered his head until his lips almost brushed hers as he spoke. “Sometimes your attacker might use a more devious approach. Will you be prepared for that? Will you be prepared for this?”
Before she could think, his mouth captured hers.
Chapter Three
Vanessa was held captive. Not by the strength of his arms, but by the intensity of his passion…and her own.
She returned Mark’s kiss with a spirit of hunger that surprised them both. His lips moved over hers with an ever-fluid interplay that stole her breath away and vanquished all logic. Instead, she was consumed by a blind yearning that made her immediate world slide into oblivion. He made her shiver and burn at the same time, provoking a sensual response she could neither understand nor control.
The thin material of her leotard and his black T-shirt provided little protection against the earthy warmth of his body. His hands slid down her spine to the small of her back to tug her close, binding her to him. The passage of his hands created a new flame in the fire burning within her.
Mark parted his legs to brace himself as she melted against him. His action intensified the intimacy of their embrace, added a new level of heated friction.
Tunneling his hand beneath the golden tumble of her hair, he lured her to part her lips even farther for him. She eagerly complied. He rewarded her by doing enticing things with his tongue, moves that made Vanessa’s knees weak and her body throb. Her tongue answered his as his mouth slanted across hers in a new angle that afforded them both even more erotic pleasure.
Mark’s hands slid with deft sureness over her derriere, pulling her deeper into the kiss, into the madness. In his arms she was a different person. She was female to his bold male. She felt the thrust of his arousal, and her body responded with a receptive aching need to draw him to her. She was both the conquered
