love, but maybe …
Maybe she could fulfill her desire for Max. Those women in the magazines, the women who had dated Max before his marriage, knew that sex wasn’t love. Knew it and reveled in it. They didn’t suppress that part of themselves, not like she had done for so long.
She exited the bathroom and went into her connecting bedroom, sinking onto the bed, holding her towel tightly around her naked body. She was such a hopeless case for Max that even the rough abrasion of the terry cloth over her bare skin was turning her on.
It had always been easy to act aloof around men. She hadn’t really wanted any of them. There had been a few times when she’d really liked someone, felt a kind of bitter melancholy over not pursuing anything serious with them. But this, what she felt for Max, was a consuming hunger that was with her all the time. A spark that smoldered in her belly, ready to burst into flame when Max so much as looked at her.
The fact that they were engaged to be married, that they were having a baby together, was the biggest thing holding her back. If she could just indulge in a fling with him, one night of passion maybe, just so she could experience it, so she could exorcise this thing that had flared so strongly between them, then she would more than happily jump into bed with him.
But the fact remained that they were engaged, and they were having a baby. And those were very, very permanent ties.
But her body was still screaming for the release she knew only Maximo would be able to give. She just didn’t know if she could fight it anymore. Or if she even wanted to …
She stood from the bed and crossed to the massive closet on the other side of the room. It was packed full of designer clothing, all chosen by a personal shopper without Alison present, since the paparazzi had made shopping an impossibility. Every last article was beautiful, and a lot more revealing than anything she would have chosen for herself.
Sliding her hands over the fabrics she stopped at a midnight-blue silk dress with a low halter neckline and a floaty, knee-skimming hem. It was an extremely sexy dress, one she’d privately vowed never to wear as she’d hung it up in the closet. But now … now it seemed perfect.
She pulled it out quickly before any doubts or fears could invade and talk her out of it. She hadn’t known what she was planning until that moment, but, even though she might think she was stupid in the morning, she was committed. She was going to seduce Prince Maximo Rossi.
The glow of the candlelight bathed Alison’s skin in golden warmth. And there was a lot of bare skin on display. Her barely-there midnight-blue satin gown clung to her every curve and showed off the swell of her breasts, her lovely shoulders, her perfect legs. And when Maximo had pulled her chair out for her and she’d turned to look before sitting, he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her perfect, rounded derriere.
Dinner had been an exercise in torture. She had savored every bite that she’d put in her mouth, making sensual, delighted noises and darting her slick pink tongue out to catch any flavor that had lingered on her lips. He wanted her. More than he could remember wanting any other woman in his entire life. And she wanted him, too. Yet something was stopping her from taking the final step.
She certainly didn’t kiss like an inexperienced woman; she kissed like a woman with highly developed passions, a woman who knew what she wanted, knew what her lover would want. And yet she seemed to take sex very seriously. Or at least the prospect of heartbreak. But Maximo knew from experience that there were some women who simply couldn’t divorce sex from love. Perhaps the idea of sleeping with a man simply because she desired him was something she was having trouble coming to terms with. But then, she was the one who claimed she hadn’t been interested in love and relationships, and he couldn’t imagine that she’d been planning on living a celibate existence. She was far too sexy, far too sexual, for that.
He nearly groaned out loud when she lifted her dessert spoon to her lips and licked the last remnant of chocolate from the silver surface, her pink tongue so tempting, so provocative that he could have almost found his release just watching her work the spoon in that slow, sensual way. It was way too easy to imagine that tongue on his bare skin.
“What’s your stance on love?” she asked, lowering the spoon and setting it on the table.
“I’ve been in love. I don’t believe I’ll ever love anyone besides my … Selena. I don’t want to love anyone else.” Not because he was so attached to her memory, but because nothing about it had been worth the pain he’d endured. He’d lost Selena several times over. In the end, an impenetrable wall had gone up between them, and he hadn’t been able to reach her anymore. He hadn’t been able to protect her, from her grief, from death. He had no desire to ever go through that kind of hell again.
“So you don’t think you’re going to meet someone else?” she asked, her copper eyes deadly serious.
“I’m marrying you. You’re the only ‘someone else’ there’s going to be.”
“But if you did want someone else would you tell me?”
“I won’t.”
“But if you did,” she persisted, “would you tell me? I don’t want to be played for a fool, Max, and I really don’t want to be cheated on.”
“I would tell you. You have my word that, if we were to enter into a physical relationship, I would never even entertain the thought of being unfaithful to you.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened by the pool,” she said slowly.
Tension knotted his muscles and the fire in his stomach was starting to rage out of control.
She raised her eyes to meet his and he was struck by how dark they’d gotten. She was aroused. He was definitely familiar with the signs, and his own body was more than ready to take hers up on its blatant offer.
“I want to make love,” she said, her voice steady. If he hadn’t spotted the slight tremor in her delicate hands he would have never known she was nervous.
“You wanted to make love by the pool. You wanted to make love that day in your room. In fact, you wanted to make love that first day in Turan, but you pulled back every time.”
“I know. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” She rose from her chair, moved to stand in front of him, then leaned in and he was transfixed by her beauty, by the clear, pale skin of her flawless face, by the creamy swells of her breasts spilling over the skimpy neckline of her dress. Splaying her hands over his chest she explored him, ran her fingertips over his muscles. He sucked in a sharp breath, his body so close to the edge he was in danger of going right over.
“I want you,” she said softly, leaning in and pressing her lips against his. He let her control the kiss, let her explore his mouth slowly, her tongue moving tentatively over the seam of his lips. When they separated she was panting, and he realized he was, too. “I trust you. I’m certain of that now.”
“And you needed to trust me?” he asked, running his fingers through her silken, strawberry hair, reveling in her softness, her femininity.
“Yes. The attraction between us is so strong … I’ve never felt this way before and it scared me. It still scares me. But now I know you aren’t going to use it against me.”
“I’m not going to fall in love with you, either,” he said roughly, hating himself for needing to be honest, especially if it might make
