Scandals Of The Royals: Princess From the Shadows

His chest vibrated with a low, masculine growl as he tore his lips from hers and pressed a line of kisses down her neck, sucking the tender skin where it met with her shoulder. She arched her back, a silent entreaty for him to touch her breasts.

And he knew just what she wanted. He moved his hand around to the back of her dress and with one deft motion he slid the zipper down, loosening the lacy garment so that he could tug the top down, baring her black strapless bra.

“Perfecto,” he said, his palm grazing her rib cage, skimming over the tips of her breasts. Not even close to enough.

Her breath hitched, her entire body drawn so tight she thought she was going to explode. She’d never been so turned on, so fast, in her life. But she felt like she was ready to go over the edge at any moment.

He lowered his head, his tongue trailing just beneath the line of her bra, so close to what she wanted and still not enough. “Rodriguez. Please. I need more. I need you to touch me,” she said, her words coming out halted, labored.

He reached his hand behind her again and undid the catch on her bra with a swift flick of his fingers. The night air was warm against her bare skin, and she couldn’t feel embarrassed. Not even for a moment.

He swore, short and sharp, before lowering his head and drawing one of her nipples into his mouth. She gripped his head, lacing her fingers through his hair, holding him to her.

The heat spreading through Rodriguez was reckless. Dangerous. He enjoyed sex. Always. But it never took him over like this. Usually, the heat of desire was comparable to standing near a fireplace. Warm, something he looked forward to, but not something wild or dangerous. The feeling Carlotta gave him was more like a wildfire, burning hot, raging through him with nothing to contain it.

Her desire wasn’t calm, it wasn’t polite or restrained. She wanted him, and she wasn’t shy about showing it. And he could give her no less. He had no ability to effect the persona of a smooth, experienced lover. Not now. He could only feel.

Her nipple hardened beneath his tongue and her obvious need for him sent a shot of pure, hard lust through him, making his erection jerk with the need to be inside her. His hands shook as he started to slide her dress down her hips. He couldn’t remember trembling before sex since he was a sixteen-year-old virgin.

He felt her go stiff beneath him suddenly, her body tight when before she had been pliant in his arms. “Did you hear that?” she whispered, drawing away from him.

“No.” His blood was roaring too loudly in his ears for him to hear anything.

“Madre di dio,” she cursed, reaching down to the side of the lounger and retrieving her bra, quickly covering her lush breasts with the band of black fabric.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice nearly hysterical as she tugged the top of her dress back into place and contorted her body into an odd shape as she reached for the zipper. “Anyone could have walked up here, that’s what’s wrong!” she hissed.

“Do you need help?” he asked, indicating her struggle with the zipper, his brain still moving slowly.

“Yes,” she said, turning, her face angled down. “I thought I heard someone.”

“I don’t hear anyone.”

“That isn’t the point.”

He tugged the zipper into place and she turned. “What is the point then?” he asked.

“That we could have been caught.”

“So what? We’re engaged.”

“So?” she choked out, her words rising as she stood from the lounger. “So? You clearly have never been the center of a tabloid scandal. Oh, yes, you have, you just don’t care! Well, I care!”

“Carlotta, there wasn’t anyone out here. And anyway, we’re engaged to be married, where’s the scandal?”

“Where’s the scandal? You can hardly find pictures of royals kissing each other politely, let alone … snogging … in a cabana!”

“We were a little bit past that point.”

“Don’t,” she said, her voice trembling as she bent down and grabbed his tie, tossed it in his direction, “remind me.”

“Why are you so angry? Nothing happened. There were no pictures.”

“But there could have been!” she said. “And they would have been online and my … my son would have seen them. It’s bad enough that Luca will be able to look his family up on the internet, see that they called him the Santina bastard. See the endless speculation about who his father is, the headlines intimating I might not know who it is. Should he also see pictures of me half naked on a lounge chair with a man?”

“No, I don’t suppose he should but I am the man you’re marrying.”

“You keep saying that like it matters. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I … How can you understand? You just … can’t.”

“Try me, Carlotta. Do you think you have the monopoly on whatever it is you’re feeling right now?”

“On this? Yes. I’m sure I do. At least when it comes to the two of us.”

“I didn’t think you were a saint. You’re doing a great impression of someone who finds themself to be holier than thou.”

“I want to be,” she said sharply. “I want to be better than this. I need to be.” Her voice broke on the last word, the desperation he heard there something he couldn’t understand. Something he didn’t think he wanted to understand.

“Better than what? People want sex, Carlotta. They need it. It’s fundamental. A drive, like eating and sleeping. It’s not wrong to want it.”

“You say that because you have no idea what it means to face the consequences of it. It’s not the same as eating and sleeping. You have to be careful. And I should be in control of myself … of my body. I should have control.”

She turned and walked away, her arms crossed over her front like she was cold, holding on to herself tightly. He didn’t follow her. She didn’t want him to. He knew it. He wanted to. He wanted to find out what her problem was. To figure out why her rejection of him made his stomach feel tight, his body numb. It was more than unquenched desire. More than simple disappointment over not achieving a climax.

He wasn’t sure what it was.

He watched her small figure until she made her way back up to the expansive home and slipped back into the ballroom. He hoped she didn’t attract attention.

Not for his sake. For hers. Because she hated having her photo taken.

He couldn’t remember the last time the needs of someone else seemed so much more important than his own.

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ud8600cf7-975b-5c5e-a579-a86ae2d7d58a)

CARLOTTA closed the door to Luca’s room silently, her heart heavy. With responsibility. Anguish. Guilt. Nothing was ever simple.

She’d made a hasty retreat through the less populated portion of the mansion, and had managed not to run into anyone beyond a few members of staff. A trick she’d learned during her last idiotic affair.

That thought made her feel sick. Why was she still struggling like this? Why, when she knew the kind of pain it could cause, had she let her guard down?

The easy answer was that Rodriguez and her need for him had blindsided her. She liked sex, and yes, she’d missed it periodically over the past six years, but the need for completion had never, ever been like it had been tonight with Rodriguez.

This was just plain scary. Shocking in its intensity. It was taking her over.

She was tempted to go back in Luca’s room and curl up with her sleeping son. Use him as a shield against everything Rodriguez had conjured up in her. Yes, he had reminded her that she was a woman, not simply a mother, a caregiver. But someone with needs of her own.

And she wished she hadn’t been given that reminder.