Prince's Son Of Scandal

It was easy to spot the Prince’s room. Two guards were stationed outside the door. Her own accompanied her as she approached them.

“Mademoiselle Sauveterre,” one greeted with a respectful nod. “We were notified to expect you.” He stepped inside and invited her guard to sweep the rooms.

Both men behaved with the utmost professionalism, not betraying a hint of judgment about what they must know was a preliminary for seduction.

A smile touched her mouth as she thought about how her brothers would blow their tops if they knew where she was right now, even though they had both been on the Prince’s side of this equation hundreds of times, the hypocrites.

Then she was left alone and she took in the elegant shades of ivory and sage green on the walls and the furnishings. A glass of watered-down Scotch had been abandoned on an end table, ice long melted. She sniffed, then dared a sip, thought about looking at the view, then decided to leave the drapes closed.

The double doors to the bedroom stood open. She stared at the bed, taking another quick sip of liquid courage just as the main door opened. His star power impacted her anew, making her heart skip.

“You made yourself comfortable. Good.”

“This is yours.” She tilted the glass, then set it aside, instantly wishing she’d kept it to keep her hands busy.

“I’ll make you a fresh one. Or, how about champagne?” He moved to the bar. As he peeled the foil from a bottle, the crinkle seemed overly loud.

This was the moment she should have admitted she was Trella.

A very real fear sat within that admission—that he would develop his own misgivings. He would either want explanations she didn’t care to give, or he might jump to conclusions that made him averse to being with her. In no scenario did she imagine this exciting, lighthearted atmosphere would continue.

“You’re nervous,” he noted as he popped the cork.

“You’re observant,” she said, compelled to at least confess, “I don’t do this.”

It was true no matter which twin she represented. Gili running away for a weekend with a prince was as out of character as her being here with this one.

“I already guessed that.” He set two glasses as he poured, canting his head to eye her. “You’re not a virgin, are you?”

She choked. “No.”

True again for both twins, but she had to look away, mind skipping off the dark memory like a stone off the water’s surface.

No, that was another reason she was here. Being alone with a man was another snapped link in the chain that bound her to the past. She was really, really proud of herself right now. Even though her proffered excuse of “I’m just out of my comfort zone” was the understatement of the year.

He brought the glasses across the room to her and offered her one. “Saluti.”

“Salud.”

They sipped, gazes locked, unspoken expectations hovering between them. Her throat grew abraded by the bubbles.

“What if I change my mind about being here?” she asked in a soft rasp.

“Then I will be disappointed.” His intent expression didn’t change.

“Angry?”

“Disappointed. Very disappointed, bella.” His gaze acted like wildfire, igniting her blood as he swept it across her cheek and down her throat.

He turned away to set music playing. The notes were low and sultry, matching the thick feeling in her veins, the sensual throb of her pulse.

“Either way, I’m pleased to have you to myself.” He came back to her, steps laconic, touch smooth and confident as he looped his arm around her. “Whether you want to talk or dance or...pass the time in other ways.”

He swayed them into a dance that was really just the press of two bodies. Foreplay. They both still held their champagne flutes. Held gazes.

“I wasn’t in the mood to fight other men for your attention.”

“Was anyone else even trying? I hadn’t noticed.” She batted her lashes.

His mouth tilted. “I like that wit, bella. I find myself regretting we only have tonight.”

She tucked her chin and gave him an admonishing look. “You’re patronizing me again. I don’t need the rules spelled out. I’m not that green.”

“See? Such sharp intelligence is the sort of thing that holds my interest longer than a few hours.”

“Is that how long your liaisons usually last?”

He stopped dancing, arm remaining across her back, but loosely. “That’s probably not a good topic of conversation.”

“I know.” Bubbles tickled her nose as she sipped, trying to wash away a strange bitterness on her tongue. It shouldn’t matter what his past looked like. Whatever man eventually attached himself to her wouldn’t come to her pristine. She couldn’t expect it when she had such a complicated history herself. “I think I’m looking for reasons not to like you so I won’t feel so...”

She frowned. The hand she’d rested on his shoulder slid down to splay on his chest as if she had the right to touch him with such familiarity, but touching him felt very natural. Her fingertips dipped beneath the ribbon of red, sliding the tips of her polished nails beneath it as she ever so slightly lifted it off the crispness of his shirt.

“I’m not a pushover. I’m normally the most contrary person you could imagine. A fighter.” Her family told her that all the time, so why was she letting this happen? Her usual streak of rebellion was absent.

Actually, she realized with a spark of insight, it was directed against the life she’d been leading, pushing her to break free of old restraints. No one was stopping her from spending a night with a man except her. All she had to do was choose to.

“I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m sincere that I wish we had more time to get to know one another, but my life has never allowed for long term relationships.” His hand shifted to splay in a warm brand against her lower back, offering a soothing caress. “For what it’s worth—” He bit the inside of his cheek, seeming to weigh what he was about to say. The shadow moved behind his eyes again, telling her that he was uncomfortable with how revealing his words were. “If you walked out of here right now, I wouldn’t go looking for someone else. You’re the only woman I want to be with tonight.”

“Why?” It came out of her with a pang of disbelief. “Please don’t say it’s because you like the way I look.” She didn’t want him to want Gili. It would break her heart—it really would.

His breath came out in a soft snort of disbelief. “Because of the way we make each other feel.”

He lowered his head to graze his damp lips along her jaw and down to her neck, making her shiver. Her nipples pulled tight so quickly they stung. He chuckled softly at the way she audibly caught her breath.

“We’re positively volatile.” His hot breath bathed her ear before his teeth lightly closed on her lobe, nearly causing her knees to buckle.

She pressed her hand more firmly to his chest.

“No?” He drew back, but held her close. Held her up, if she was honest.

“I’m trying to think,” she gasped, nearly overwhelmed by sensations that were the furthest thing from fear.

“And you can’t? Then we feel the same.” His tight smile only made the edgy fist of need inside her clench harder. “Feel, bella. Feel how much you’re exciting me.” He moved her hand all the way under the sash, so the pound of his heart slammed into her palm. “This isn’t anything I’ve ever experienced, either.”

Her scalp tingled. She dropped her champagne glass, ignoring the delicate break of crystal, wanting too badly to touch him with both hands. She slid her fingers to the back of his neck and raised her mouth, inviting him to kiss her. It was pure instinct and he didn’t hesitate, covering her parted lips as though he’d been let off his leash after having been tempted for too long.

The world stopped then spun the other way, dizzying her. She made one whimpering noise, astonished by how thoroughly such a thing could devastate her, wilting all her muscles.