In the Royal's Bed. Marion Lennox

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      Desirable?

      ‘No,’ she said and held up her hands as if in defence.

      ‘It’s all very well to say no,’ Rafael snapped, stepping towards her so fast he was suddenly way too close. ‘It’s the last thing I want. Or it should be the last thing I want.’

      ‘What?’ she said, confused.

      ‘You,’ he said and the world stood still again.

      ‘I…don’t,’ she said at last, somehow taking a step back, and he shook his head as if trying to clear a fog.

      ‘Yeah. Maybe I’m being dumb. Go to bed, Kelly.’

      ‘You’re sending me to bed?’

      ‘I’m sending you away,’ he said, exasperated. ‘I need you to go away.’

      ‘Like Kass.’

      ‘No!’ And, before she knew what he was about, he’d seized her hands and tugged her close. ‘That’s just it. Don’t you see—I’m not the least like Kass. Kass represented everything about this place that I hate. Royalty. The perfection of it… Do you know my father was thrown from his horse and maimed? He was crippled but as well as that he had a massive scar running down the side of his face. He lost the sight of one eye. Until then, he’d worked like a navvy in this place—that the Principality hasn’t bankrupted itself until now is solely down to my father’s economic acumen and the fact that the old prince never bothered to interfere. But as soon as my father was injured he wasn’t permitted any part of the running of the place. He was simply struck off. It just killed him—his injuries, but more—the fact that he was useless. My mother and I could do nothing. And here I am, being useful again. Useful. And here you are and you’re Kass’s bride…’

      ‘Hey…’

      ‘And the last thing I want is to feel sorry for you,’ he said. ‘And I don’t and that’s just the trouble. Sympathy is something I could deal with. But you’re standing here looking so damned sexy it’s melting the soles of my boots, and the way I feel…I just…’

      ‘You just?’ She was trying to pull away but he was having none of it.

      ‘I just,’ he said and he tugged her tight against him.

      And he kissed her.

      The shock made her freeze.

      For the first couple of seconds—those vital seconds when she should have pulled away, before his mouth even touched hers—shock didn’t let her move. His hands were holding hers with a warmth and a strength that locked her to him. She’d been tugging back—sort of—but not with real desperation. But now…

      His hands tugged her tight and his mouth lowered on to hers. In shock she looked up at him, and then his lips claimed hers and it was a done deal. She was being kissed, whether she willed it or not.

      Rafael…

      He felt…He felt…

      She stopped trying to figure what he felt. She stopped trying to figure what she felt. She just…was.

      She hadn’t touched a man for six years. She’d sworn to never…

      So much for swearing, for there was no way any mere resolution could get in the way of this.

      Her mouth met his, merged, and her body simply went into meltdown. She had no will to do anything but simply be—to let him take her as he willed, to let his hands create their magic, to let the sensations sweeping over her take their course, transform her as they willed, lift her out of her dreary yesterdays and turn her into a woman desired.

      For that was what she was. There was no mistaking the urgency of how he felt about her. His hands had her firmly round the waist, tugging her into him so her breasts were flattened against his chest. She could feel his heart beating under hers. She opened her lips and felt his tongue begin a slow, delicious plunder that would have made her moan in pleasure if in doing so she might not have risked breaking the moment.

      She was risking nothing. She was doing her own holding, taking what she needed from this man, soaking in the warmth and strength and arrant male desire.

      It had been too long. Far too long.

      Rafael…

      She was kissing him back, as fiercely as he was kissing her, taking as well as giving, quenching her own desperate needs.

      Needs she’d told herself didn’t exist.

      Only, of course, they did. Six long years of nothing. Isolation and loneliness and betrayal.

      Rafael…

      The kiss went on and on. Neither wanted it to end. Neither could conceive of it ending. The night was still and warm. There was no movement in the forecourt—the castle staff had long gone to bed. There was only this man and this woman, taking what they both desperately needed.

      And when the kiss finally ended, as even the best kiss must inevitably do, Kelly took a step back and put her fingers to her lips and knew that her world had changed.

      ‘N…no,’ she whispered and she saw her own shock mirrored in Rafael’s eyes.

      ‘No,’ he agreed, sounding as if he didn’t know what the word meant.

      ‘I didn’t want to kiss you,’ she whispered.

      ‘You’re Kass’s woman,’ he said blankly and that brought reality crashing back around the pair of them.

      Kass’s woman…

      The feeling of unreality dissipated. Here and now crashed right back.

      ‘How dare you?’

      ‘I don’t dare,’ he said. ‘That was dumb.’

      She stared at him, confounded. The kiss had been dumb. Of course it had been dumb. But to say it…

      ‘Don’t you touch me,’ she stammered and the confusion in his eyes faded.

      ‘You don’t want it?’

      ‘Of course not.’

      ‘Of course not. We’re birds of a feather, Kelly. We want nothing to do with this.’

      ‘But it’s not this we’re talking about,’ she managed. ‘Not royalty. Not now. No, I don’t want any more contact than I’m forced to have with royalty to be a good mother to Matty. But as far as kissing you…’

      ‘You looked at me,’ he said as if that explained everything and she glared.

      ‘So you’re saying I goaded you into it. Like wearing red patent shoes.’

      ‘Pardon?’ he said, startled.

      ‘You don’t wear red patent shoes,’ she said patiently. ‘Everyone knows they incite the senses and reflect your knickers.’

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