Beauty and the Reclusive Prince / Executive: Expecting Tiny Twins: Beauty and the Reclusive Prince. Raye MorganЧитать онлайн книгу.
fierce.
Max hadn’t been around many people for a good long time, but he’d always had a knack for understanding a lot about human psychology. One thing he knew was that, faced with someone who was almost overwrought with passionate intensity, the worst thing you could do was to laugh. It drove the person crazy and it made you look like a jerk. He knew it was all wrong. Not to mention, if your goal was to calm the person down, it just plain didn’t work very well.
But he couldn’t help it. She looked so cute. Her curly hair was flopping down over her huge eyes and her cheeks were bright red and her lips looked lusciously swollen. And she was so earnest.
He started to try to answer her, but the words didn’t come out right. What did come out was a choking laugh, and once it got started he had a hard time getting it stopped again.
Laughing. It was something he never did. As he tried to analyze it later, he decided it was a release of sorts. He’d spent so long being so tense, so filled with anguished guilt, and Isabella had reached into his life and pulled aside the curtain, letting in a ray of sunshine that helped open the floodgates to emotions he had kept bottled up for too long. But once those gates had opened, it was hard getting them closed again.
She stood back, stunned, her blue eyes bewildered. Next she was going to look hurt and he knew it. He didn’t want her to be hurt. He had to stop that. He had to tell her, had to explain…
But he was laughing and, for the moment, all he could do was reach for her and fold her into his arms.
“How dare you?” she cried, struggling against him.
“Hush, hush,” he was saying, stroking her hair and leaning down into the crook of her neck to drop a kiss on her tender skin, his lips lingering a moment or two too long. His whole purpose was to calm her down, of course, and to reassure her that he wasn’t laughing at her. Not really. But her neck was so inviting and her skin tasted so sweet and he found himself dropping more kisses than he’d ever meant to, dropping them lightly at first, then with more and more intensity, letting his tongue flicker on her skin.
“I’m sorry, Isabella,” he murmured against her warmth, still racked with humor. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s not that I’m laughing at you. Honestly, I’m really not…”
“I hate you!” she cried, still trying to break free. “You’re mean and arrogant and—”
“No,” he said, finally getting control of the laughter and pulling up to look at her. “No, listen…”
She shook her head and her hair flew around her face. There were tears in her eyes. His heart melted at the sight.
“Oh, Isabella,” he said gruffly, full of regret. “No, I didn’t mean to laugh.”
Her lower lip was trembling. He cupped her face in his hands. She was beautiful and he moved purely by instinct. She had a spirit that had to be soothed, a mouth that had to be kissed. There was no stopping it. Nature had taken over.
CHAPTER SIX
UNPLANNED passion like this was taboo, unacceptable—and, once ignited, completely irresistible. Max’s lips touched Isabella’s once, twice, and then again, as though he’d suddenly developed a raving hunger for the taste of her, and then the moist warmth of her mouth was there, open and inviting and his kiss grew in sweet, silky intensity. And he was lost in the moment.
It was hard to know how long the kiss lasted. When he finally revived, feeling like a swimmer coming up for air, she was trying to push him away and murmuring, “No, no. I didn’t come here for this.”
He pulled his face back, but his fingers were still tangled in her hair. He looked down at her and shook his head almost sadly.
“Neither did I,” he told her, his gaze ranging over her pretty face. It took all his strength to keep from kissing her again. “But I won’t say I’m sorry it happened,” he added, his voice husky with the lingering sense of how tempting she was.
Their eyes met. He saw wonder there, and questions. She was a woman who deserved more than he was allowing her. He groaned, then shrugged in bittersweet surrender.
“All right, Isabella. I’m ready to sample your sauce and hear your entire presentation.”
Suddenly her face was shining. “That’s all I ask,” she said, blooming like a flower that had just found the sun. “Just give me half an hour.”
He nodded, reluctantly smiling at the picture she made. “You’ve got it. Hit me with your best shot.” He gave her a warning look. “And then I will tell you ‘no’ and send you home again.”
She nodded happily. “I’ll convince you. You just wait.”
He released her slowly, wishing he could pull her back into his arms and hold her again. Somehow he doubted her cooking was going to captivate him more strongly than her kisses had.
He went back to his room to put on a shirt and she got busy cooking the pasta. She’d actually talked him into hearing her out. She could hardly believe it.
The fact that he’d kissed her didn’t mean a thing, she told herself. It had thrilled her and she was still tingling. Her heart was racing, skittering around like a happy bird in her chest. But she knew she shouldn’t have let it happen and now she had to get over it. She had work to do.
But she also knew that she would be remembering how her cheek had felt against his naked chest for the rest of her life. The smoothness of his skin, the strength of his arms, the sound of his heartbeat, had sent her into a tailspin. She had to push those thoughts away, save them for later, or she wouldn’t be able to do what she’d set out to.
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