style="font-size:15px;"> Whatever measure of control he’d maintained up until that second finally snapped. Easing her down onto her back, he parted the lapels of her robe. Lust was a kick to his chest. But it was wrapped in wonder and tenderness. He touched a tight, rosy nipple. “You’re so damned beautiful.” The words stuck in his throat. He felt he could barely breathe.
“I look like a clown.”
He heard the feminine pique in her words and had to smile. “You may be a trifle the worse for wear, dear Maria, but it only makes me want you more.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Is that how you win over your conquests? With outright lies?”
He put his hand, palm flat over her heart, cupping the curves of her breast. “I work too hard to have much of a personal life,” he said, willing to be brutally honest if it meant relieving her misgivings. “And when I do spend time with a woman, I am always honest.”
“Somehow, I believe you.” Her chest rose and fell with her quickened breathing. Despite her poor face, all he could see was the arousal darkening her gaze.
The sofa was oversize and perfectly designed for the things he had in mind. Easing down beside her on one elbow, he separated the robe completely, taking in the minuscule pair of satiny black undies she wore. He traced the tiny elastic edging, feeling the soft skin of her flat stomach.
Reluctantly, he gave her the truth he had promised. “We’re not going to be reckless, Maria. I draw the line at making love to an injured woman.”
“That’s not fair. I get a vote, don’t I?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight.” Though it would cost him dearly, he decided he could play with fire. Moving carefully so as not to cause her any distress, he sucked in a sharp breath when touching her hardened his sex to the point of pain. “God, you make me crazy,” he groaned.
Kissing her was like diving into a pool of quicksand. But aligning their bodies so that warm, feminine flesh nestled against him was far worse. Shaking, he slid a hand between her legs, noting the warmth and dampness that told him she was ready for his possession.
The foreplay tormented them both. Though he would have liked to pleasure her until she came apart in his arms, he feared her poor head would suffer for the orgasm. Reluctantly, he moved his fingers to less volatile territory.
She smelled of exotic shower gel and honeysuckle shampoo. Unable to resist a taste, he caught one nipple between his teeth and tugged gently. Maria cried out, her face now flushed with wild color. “Alex, please,” she begged, panting.
Temptation beckoned. The prospect of burying himself inside her and satisfying the craving that had built for weeks was almost irresistible. He could almost feel the warm clasp of her sex on his.
But when her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, he stopped her, shuddering and dragging in great lungfuls of air as he struggled for control. “We can’t. We can’t. Not tonight.”
Had she been a hundred percent, she would have done everything in her power to change his mind. He knew that. But she was weak and hurting, her energy at a low ebb.
Tears glistened on her eyelashes, making him feel like the world’s biggest cad. “Go away,” she cried.
That was one request he couldn’t honor. He sat up, moving so that she rested her full length on her side with her head in his lap, her cheek on his thigh. Reaching for the remote, he backed to the opening scene and raised the volume. The film was a black-and-white classic.
He touched her forehead. “Rest, sweetheart. Please.”
Though her eyes were open, he couldn’t see her expression. For a little while, her body was tense, but gradually he felt her relax. When he thought she was half-asleep, he began to stroke her hair.
The experience changed him. He recognized the seismic shift and marveled at it. Work and pleasing his father had driven his life for so long he scarcely remembered any other way. But tonight...with Maria...he found himself yearning for something he couldn’t even identify.
He had never considered himself a jealous man. The truth was, he had never cared enough before for such an emotion to be an issue.
Maria responded to him physically. There was no question of that. But she guarded her feelings and emotions. Did she want anything more from him than physical release?
The thing that bothered him the most was the notion that she might be eventually won over by the bad-boy prince, Gabriel. The other man was apparently irresistible to women. His exploits were the fodder of international gossip rags, even without a royal role.
Worse still was the inescapable truth that Gabriel liked and admired Maria, and vice versa. If such a relationship softened Gabriel to the notion of the Montoros reclaiming the monarchy, could Alex in all good conscience stand in the way? He had devoted weeks and months of his life and his career to affecting this change for the good of Alma.
If a match between Gabriel and Maria made the Montoros more receptive to the proposal, the smartest thing for Alex to do was step aside. But every cell in his body rejected the idea. He’d perfected the art of being a politician first and a man second. Now, integrity be damned, the idea was repugnant to him.
He was not here in Florida, however, to pursue his own agenda. He had been sent as deputy prime minister of commerce to solidify an ancient bond that would take Alma with confidence into the twenty-first century as a world player.
How could he betray the trust of his people for his own selfish ends?
At last, Maria’s steady breathing told him she was asleep. Her eyelashes, a shade darker than her hair, fanned out on her cheeks. He knew he probably should have made sure she iced her face, but in his urge to find intimacy with her, the thought had escaped him.
Now, he couldn’t bear to wake her.
The medicine had done its work. When he eased out from under her and stood, she barely stirred. Unfortunately, her robe was still unbelted, her breasts bared to his hungry gaze.
Looking at her without her knowledge seemed wrong. Carefully, he tucked the garment around her and knotted the sash. Leaving her for a moment, he went into her bedroom and turned down the covers of her bed. He flipped on a small light in the bathroom and closed the door except for a narrow crack. She might awaken confused in the night.
When he returned to the living room, his heart contracted in his chest. She was smiling in her sleep. He would give a hell of a lot to know if he figured in that pleasant dream.
Gritting his teeth against the rush of need that assaulted him, he bent and lifted her carefully into his arms. Though her robe sheltered her now, he had a very good memory.
Maria was limp in his arms. He worried about that, but he had to trust that the doctor knew his business. Tucking her into bed, he adjusted the sheet and the light, summer-weight comforter. He doubted he would sleep much. Unappeased sexual arousal and a very real concern about Maria’s injury guaranteed a wakeful night.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he set the alarm. He would check on her every hour. She would never know, but it would give him peace of mind.
* * *
Maria stretched
