A Royal Wager: Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh

“Because I have inadvertently involved you in this scandal.” His intense eyes sent Kate’s heart on a marathon. “Because I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll be damned if I can help myself.”

Inclining his head, Marc captured her bottom lip between his lips before kissing her deeply, tenderly. His mouth melted into hers like cinnamon candy, a taste she detected on his tongue that played against hers so sweetly, softly.

For a fleeting moment, Kate rationalized that his kiss was a result of his frustration and anger, the means to let off steam and the reason why it continued and grew more passionate with every ticking second. But when he slid his palm down her rib cage, to her hip and then back up again, she couldn’t lay claim to any rationality for either of them. All she recognized at that moment was a heady warmth oozing from every pore and a desire for Marc DeLoria’s full attention that knew no limits.

What else would explain her lack of resistance when he cupped her knee, which was exposed by her skirt that had ridden up to her thighs? What else except a total absence of common sense drove her legs to part in invitation while they were driving in a car? What else could have incited the low moan climbing her throat when he slid his palm beneath the hem of her skirt?

She was very aware of what Marc intended when he kept going until his fingertips hovered at the junction of her thighs. And when he fondled her through the nylon, all thoughts slipped away.

She was growing hotter by the minute, closer and closer to losing it as Marc increased the pressure, both with his mouth firmly joined with hers and his hand working wonders between her thighs. Feeling brazen and bold, she slid her palm up his thigh and to his groin where her fingers contacted the ridge beneath his slacks. She touched him the same way he now touched her, through fabric that created a frustrating obstacle but not enough to stop either one of them from the erotic, forbidden exploration. She didn’t think anything could stop them.

“We’re here, Your Highness.”

The grating sound of Nicholas’s voice filtering in from the overhead intercom broke the spell and the kiss. Marc pulled his hand away, slid to the other side of the car and leaned his head back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with his ragged respiration. Kate had trouble catching her breath as well. She already missed his touch, his heat, his mouth that had shown no mercy on her senses.

As they rode through the gates, Marc’s rough sigh broke the silence. “My mother told me she offered you the guesthouse. I’ll see that your things are brought here.”

At least this time he hadn’t apologized for losing control since Kate wasn’t the least bit sorry. “But won’t that be worse, me staying on the grounds?”

“The press probably knows you’re at the inn. You’ll be afforded more protection here.”

The media knew where she was staying because she’d told them, another huge mistake. “If you think that’s best for the time being, then I don’t have a problem with it.”

Marc turned his head toward her. “But we still have one other problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not strong enough to resist you.”

That brought on Kate’s smile. “I’ll try to behave myself.”

“I’m not concerned about your behavior. I am concerned about mine.”

Kate was concerned most about her growing feelings for him. “Look, you just punched out a reporter. You can deal with me.”

Marc returned her smile with one of his own—a smile that could move the mountains surrounding them. “That is the problem, Kate. I want to deal with you in a very intimate way, and that should be more than obvious to you now. If we had not arrived here when we did, I can promise you I would have done much more, regardless of the fact we were in a moving vehicle with only a glass separating us from prying eyes.”

And Kate would have let him.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek immediately before Nicholas opened the car door. “I’m not certain I will be able to overcome that problem.”

Kate sincerely hoped he didn’t.

In the middle of the night, after Cecile was tucked safely in bed, Marc escorted Kate to the inn to retrieve her belongings with a bevy of armed guards as their chaperones. Regardless, he’d done well to keep his hands off of her in the privacy of the car, but once they returned to the deserted guest cottage, he questioned how long he could maintain his resolve.

Marc considered leaving her alone, but he truly didn’t want to leave, especially after Martine had told him that although Kate’s wound didn’t appear that serious, someone should watch her in case she showed signs of a concussion.

Presently, she showed Marc a pair of shapely legs encased in nylons as she strolled around the small living room to examine the odds and ends on the bookshelves in the corner. Those damn panty hose had saved him from doing something totally inadvisable earlier that day, before Nicholas had delivered his untimely interruption.

“Another great collection of books,” she said, keeping her back to him. “Just wish I could read more French. But I am doing some studying.”

Marc was doing some studying of his own—namely the curve of her buttocks and the dip of her waist—as she replaced one volume above her head.

“I could teach you a few words.” The words running through his mind now would not be deemed appropriate for common usage. But in bed….

She smiled at him over one shoulder. “I’m doing better at the clinic, picking up a few phrases. I’m sure the more I’m exposed to the various languages, the more I’ll learn.”

Marc wanted to expose her to more than words. He wanted to expose her to his hands, to his mouth, to his body.

He tried to relax on the floral sofa that now felt as hard and uncompromising as his escalating erection. With every move Kate made, his muscles clenched with the effort to maintain control. But when she turned to him and began pulling the tails of her blouse from the skirt’s waistband, he was as hard as he’d ever been in recent memory.

“I think I’ll take a shower now,” she said.

Marc thought he should show himself to the door before he showed her how much she was affecting him. “Are you feeling well enough to do that?”

“I feel fine.”

How well he knew that. “Perhaps I should stand outside the bathroom door in case you should become dizzy.”

She strolled to the sofa and stood above him. “Perhaps you should join me in the shower.”

He groaned. “I thought you were going to behave.”

“I thought you were going back to the palace.”

“I am.”

“What are you waiting for?”

He waited for his mind to commandeer his libido. Waited for her to toss him out. Waited for logic to come forth and issue a protest strong enough to stop the overpowering need to touch her.

When none of those things happened, Marc caught her wrist and pulled her forward between his parted legs. He slid his hands up her sides, relishing the feel of her curves against his palm, needing to feel more of her, and soon, duty be damned. His reputation be damned. They were alone, and no one would have to know. If he couldn’t have all of her, he could at least give her what she needed. He could gain some satisfaction from satisfying her—if that was what she wanted—and he assumed it was, considering her eyes held the cast of desire.

He ran his palms up her thighs, this time beneath the skirt. “I believe I have some unfinished business.”

She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “What unfinished business would that be?”

“What I started in the car.”

She smiled. “Really? I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. I’m tired of fighting this.”

“Then don’t fight it.”

Marc pulled her down on the sofa into his lap, effectively cutting off all conversation with a kiss that was as intense as the one they’d shared in the car. Kate released an unmistakably sexual sound against his mouth that encouraged him to keep going. She tightened her hold around his neck as he nudged her legs apart and slid one hand along the inside of her thighs, contacting the frustrating barrier bent on keeping him from his goal. Whoever invented panty hose should be bound and gagged with nylon for at least a week.

But that did not deter him. Barriers were made to be broken, and he sufficiently broke through this one with a tug and tear at the seam, revealing she wore nothing beneath them. Kate’s gasp didn’t stop him either; the press of her hips toward his hand indicated she wanted this as badly as he wanted to give it to her.