Alma in the middle of the night, but they hadn’t left their pride behind.
“All my life I’ve done what is expected of me. I haven’t shirked a single duty. I’m the CEO of Montoro Enterprises and now I will be king of Alma, but for this one afternoon, Red, can I be Rafe? Not a man with his future planned but your lover? Father of your baby?” he asked.
He came back over and dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her hips. Then he drew her closer to him and kissed her belly. “I want you to be able to speak to our baby about me with joy instead of regret.”
She looked down at him as he rested his head against her body. Tunneling her fingers into his thick black hair, she understood that from this point on, when she left this penthouse they couldn’t be this couple again.
She sighed, and the woman she’d always been, the one who lived by the motto Never Say Never, took over. Rafe and she might not have more than this time together. And she wanted this one last time with him.
She hadn’t expected to be a mom this soon. She had made all these plans for her life and then when she’d taken those pregnancy tests it had all gone out the window.
But for this moment she could forget about tomorrow. She hoped this would be enough, but feared one more afternoon in his arms would never be enough to satisfy her.
Rafe pushed aside all of his thoughts and just focused on Emily. It was amazing that she’d come to find him. She was strong enough, independent enough to keep the baby from him if she’d wanted. It embarrassed him a little, humbled him, too, that he would never have known about the baby if she hadn’t shown up.
He’d been focusing on the royal legacy and managing everyone’s expectations. Especially people he didn’t even know and hadn’t cared existed until last month. Funny how he’d gone from worrying about financial targets and managing a multinational company to worrying about a little thing like protocol.
But as long as Emily was here he could forget all that. Concentrate on being the man and not the king.
He held her tightly as he stood up, lifting her off her feet and letting her slide back down his body. She was curvy and light, his woman, and he wanted to be just her man. He carried her to the big brass bed and stood next to it, just waiting for a signal from her.
She owed him nothing.
She sighed and then lowered her head and brushed her lips over his, and something tight and frozen inside him started to melt. She kissed him not like the bold bartender she was when they’d met, but like a woman who wanted to relish her time with her lover.
They both knew without saying it that this was the last time they’d be together like this. Maybe if they’d met two years from now after he’d been on the throne and had time to figure out what being king meant, their path would have been different. But they hadn’t.
They had this afternoon and nothing more.
He wanted these memories of the two of them to keep for himself as he moved into a life that was no longer his own.
He pushed his hands into her thick red hair, cradling her head as he took control of the kiss. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, tasted peppermint and woman. Her arms slipped lower and she stroked her hand down his back as he deepened the kiss.
Though he knew this long, wet kiss was just the beginning, he wanted to savor it. Dueling desires warred inside him as he wanted to make every touch last as long as possible. The intensity of his lust for her was almost unbearable; he needed to be hilt-deep inside her right now.
He lifted his head, rubbed his thumb along the column of her neck. Her pulse was racing and her eyes were half closed. Her creamy skin was dotted with freckles and the faint flush of desire.
He dropped nibbling kisses down her neck. She smelled of orange blossoms and sea breeze. She was like the wildest parts of Florida, and he felt as if he could hold her for only a fleeing moment and then she’d be gone. Tearing through his life like a hurricane.
He slid his hands down her back, tightening them around her waist, and lifted her off her feet again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and put her hands on his shoulders. Then she looked down into his eyes with that bright southern-Atlantic-blue gaze of hers. He felt lost. As if he were drowning in her eyes.
She nipped at his lower lip and then sucked it into her mouth and he hardened. He was going to explode if he didn’t get his damned tailored pants off and bury himself in her body.
He reached for his fly but she shifted on him, rubbing her center over his erection. He shook, and the strength left his legs as he stumbled and fell back on the bed. She laughed and then thrust her tongue into his mouth again. And he gave up thinking.
She was like the wildest hurricane and all he could do was ride this storm out. She moved over him and made him remember what it felt like to be alive. The same way she had four weeks ago in Key West. She made the rest of the world pale, and everything narrowed to the two of them.
The heat flared between them and his clothes felt too constricting. He needed to be naked. Wanted her naked. Then she could climb back on his lap. He tore his mouth from hers, his breath heavy as he drew her T-shirt up and over her head and tossed it aside.
She wore the same beige lace bra she’d had on the last time they’d had sex. He traced his finger over the seam where the fabric met skin, saw the goose bumps spread from her breast over her chest and down her arms. Her nipple tightened and he leaned forward to rub his lips over it as he reached behind her back and undid the bra.
The cups loosened, but he didn’t lift his head from her nipple. He continued teasing her with light brushes of his tongue over it until she reached between them and undid his tie, leaving it dangling around his neck as she went to work on his shirt buttons.
He shifted back, taking the edge of her bra between his teeth and pulling it away. She laughed, a deep, husky sound he remembered so well. And he got even harder. He had thought there was no way he could want her more, but he’d been wrong.
She pushed the fabric of his shirt open and peeled it down his arms, but she hadn’t undone his cuffs so his own shirt bound him. His hands were trapped.
“Undo my hands.”
“Not yet, Rafe. Right now, I’m in charge,” she said. She scraped her fingernail down the side of his jaw to his neck and then over his pectorals. He sat there craving more of her touch, but damned if he was going to ask her for it. Control and power were two things he always maintained. But with Emily it was as if they’d flown out the window.
She took what she wanted, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he didn’t want to stop her. It felt good to just let go.
Flexing her fingers, she dug her nails into his chest and then shifted forward so that the long strands of her hair brushed against him. He shuddered with need, turning his head to try to catch her mouth with his, but she just laughed again and shifted back on his thighs, looking down at him with those eyes that were full of mysteries he knew he’d never really understand.
She drew one finger down the center of his chest, following the path of the light
