Her Christmas Prince. Catherine MannЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Alandra,” he murmured softly, and started in her direction.
Straightening her shoulders, she met his eyes, stopping him in his tracks. “About last night…” she began, steeling her nerves for a conversation that filled her with dread.
“Yes?” he asked without inflection of any kind.
Obviously, he was in no mood to make this easier on her.
“It can’t happen again,” she told him quickly and succinctly, as if pulling off a bandage before the pain or aftereffects sank in.
“Oh?” Again his voice lacked inflection, but this time he raised an eyebrow, the only hint that he had any interest in what she was saying.
“No. I realize it’s exactly what you wanted, your whole reason for inviting me here to begin with, but it was a mistake and it’s not going to happen again.”
For a long minute, Nicolas studied Alandra, taking in her rigid stance and stern countenance. He wondered how annoyed she would be if he told her how attractive she looked when she tried to be authoritative.
Deciding not to risk her wrath over that, when he was about to commit a much worse offense to her sensibilities, he pushed the door shut with a quiet click and slowly closed the short distance between them.
“I’m afraid that’s unacceptable to me,” he replied, raising a hand to touch her hair, which hung straight and silky around her shoulders.
He watched her head tip just a bit away from his hand, as though trying to move away from his touch. And then the tendons of her throat tightened and released as she swallowed, her gaze not quite meeting his.
“It doesn’t matter whether you agree or not,” she said. “I’m simply telling you the way things are going to be. What happened last night isn’t going to happen again.”
She sounded resolute. So much so that he couldn’t help smiling.
Not that he could hold her response against her. She hadn’t known him long enough to realize that he was a man who got what he wanted. He had no intention of giving up so easily or letting her go purely because she claimed their lovemaking last night was a mistake.
He disagreed. Strongly.
Still grinning, he let his hand graze her soft cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind one ear. “I beg to differ. Last night was magnificent.”
Her gaze flitted away and a pale pink blush started to creep across her face.
“You have less than two weeks left in Glendovia, and I fully intend to enjoy them. To enjoy you. I know that you’ll need to spend your days working, especially if you undertake this new project you’ve proposed. But your evenings will be free, and I want you to spend them with me, in my bed.”
“Absolutely not.” She shook her head and took a step back, breaking away from his touch.
As much as he wanted to close the distance between them and grab her up, kissing the quarrel from her luscious, red-tinged lips, he remained where he was, allowing her to believe a few inches of space would keep her safe from him.
A wry smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You think that I lured you here, created a position for you within my country, to sleep with you for only one night? Alandra,” he breathed softly, almost teasingly, “even if you didn’t know me well enough by now, you have to realize that no prince would go to such lengths for a single night of sex, no matter how spectacular that sex might be.”
Determination straightened his spine and pushed his shoulders back. “I am a bit more dedicated than that,” he added, slowly stepping forward. He was encouraged to note that her wide eyes remained locked with his, and she barely seemed to register his approach.
“And now that I’ve had you, I have no intention of letting you slip away. I wanted to make love to you, and I’ve done that, but I’m far from sated.”
Even as his voice fell, becoming low and rich and seductive, his finger lifted to gently brush against her body. First the curve of her waist and the underside of her breast, then the tender flesh of her upper arm. He kept the contact brief and featherlight, just the tips of his fingers grazing the material of her dress and her bare skin.
And even though he was scarcely touching her, he still felt the shiver of awareness that rippled through her. It sent a jolt of white-hot sensation through his system, gathering and pooling in his groin. He went hard and heavy in an instant, nearly desperate enough to throw her to the floor and make love to her right then and there.
He wouldn’t, of course, though it wasn’t his royal blood keeping him from doing anything so crass. When it came to being alone in a room with Alandra Sanchez, his royal blood be damned.
No, it was Alandra herself who kept his more base instincts in check. She was already nervous and shy and regretful about what had passed between them last night, and jumping at her now would only cause her to crawl deeper into her shell, to move further away from him.
Instead, he knew he would have to go slowly again, returning to his original plan of smooth, flawless seduction.
Oh, he would have her in his bed again—tonight, if he had anything to say about it. But it would require a bit of persuasion to get her there.
Alandra’s chest rose as she inhaled, and her bright, expressive brown eyes drifted closed for a moment, her head tipping down in defeat.
“Please don’t do this,” she breathed raggedly. “Don’t make me do something that I’ll hate myself for later.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she raised her head to meet his gaze. Her expression was resolute, if somewhat sad.
“I don’t want to be Prince Nicolas’s secret mistress. A temporary entertainment to be enjoyed while I’m here, then sent away when you’re finished with me, never to be thought of again.”
Something about her words twisted his heart painfully, and for a second he reconsidered his single-minded determination to have her, regardless of the consequences.
He didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want to bring that look of misery to her face.
He wanted to hold her, kiss her, savor her like a glass of expensive brandy.
Why should it be more complicated than that? They were both mature adults, able to make their own decisions and spend time with whomever they chose.
Leaning in slightly, he let his warm breath fan her cheeks as he hovered a scant inch from her lush, kissable lips.
“I don’t want you to hate yourself,” he murmured quietly. “I just want to be with you. And though I can’t change who I am or the prudence my role in this family requires, I don’t think it needs to have any impact on our time together. What we do when we’re alone, away from the public eye, is no one’s business but ours.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her tight and tipping her head back so he could better reach her mouth. He brushed his lips across hers, tasting her, feeling her, absorbing her energy and spirit into himself.
“I only want to be with you,” he said without breaking contact. “And after last night, I believe you want the same thing. You’ll have to work very hard to convince me that isn’t true.”
She didn’t answer, didn’t pull way. He wasn’t even sure she was still breathing. Pressing his advantage, he kissed her again, deeper this time, until her spine bowed against his body and her nails dug into the material of his jacket.
When he finally raised his head, they were both breathing heavily. A shaft of satisfaction rolled through him at the cloudy, unfocused look in her eyes.
“Very hard,” he whispered.