Claiming His Princess: Duty at What Cost? / A Throne for the Taking / Princess in the Iron Mask. Kate Walker

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СКАЧАТЬ if he was assessing her. Judging her.

      ‘Hardly.’ Did he think she had set out to sleep with him?

      Embarrassed by the thought, Ava wondered what happened now. Did they engage in polite conversation? Did he get up and leave? Well, he had to, because this was her room, but…

      Unsure of herself, and hating the way that made her feel—as if she was standing in front of her father about to be told off for not living up to his expectations—she decided that she had no choice but to fall back on her usual tricks of feigned indifference or taking charge. Since indifference seemed too far out of her reach right now, she chose the latter.

      ‘Please do not feel like you have to stay around because of me. You must be tired, and I’m not the sensitive type.’

      Wolfe propped his hand on his elbow, a lazy smile curling his lips. ‘This is your idea of pillow-talk?’

      No. It was her idea of self-defence. She feigned a yawn. ‘Or if you’re not tired, I am.’

      His golden-brown eyes grew flinty. ‘Are you asking me to leave or telling me?’

      ‘Isn’t that what you were just thinking you should do?’

      His eyes flickered from hers for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough for her to know she had been right in her assumption.

      ‘Actually, I was thinking of inviting you out to dinner.’

      His comment took her by surprise, and she was sure he was making it up. She swallowed heavily and pushed aside the tiny kernel of pleasure his words had imbued her with. ‘I’d love to, but you’re about five hours too late.’

      He shook his head in amusement. ‘Are you always this prickly after a bout of hot sex?’

      Ava swallowed. She didn’t know. She’d never had sex like that before. The whole thing both alarmed her and set her body on fire in equal measure. What had happened to her promise only to go out with men who wanted the same thing she did? Love. A family.

      Hating the feeling of uncertainty that had her in its tight grip, and hoping she appeared as casual as Wolfe, she let her eyes drift over his stubbled jaw and broad shoulders. When she noticed a small patch of puckered skin right beneath his collarbone she frowned.

      ‘That was a bullet from a semi-automatic.’

      Ava’s startled gaze met his. Was he serious?

      He’d said it as if he was ordering a sandwich from a deli.

      ‘Ouch!’ Keeping her voice light to match his as she noticed another scar lower down, she said, ‘And this?’

      He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger and started to play with it. ‘Shrapnel.’

      She pointed to another small mark on his arm. ‘Spurned lover?’ she queried flippantly, understanding on some level that these wounds weren’t badges of honour for him, but represented the deep pain and suffering brought by the uglier side of the life he had once led.

      ‘Accurate sniper.’

      He brushed the ends of her hair across her upper chest, where the sheet stopped. Ava felt goose bumps shimmer across her skin and hoped he didn’t notice.

      ‘I take it you’re not very good at your job?’ she teased.

      His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’ He let go of her hair and replaced it with his fingers, his movements causing the fabric to drag across her sensitised breasts.

      Anticipation made her body throb and, powerless to stop herself, she let her eyes drift lower, taking in the thin trail of hair that bisected his ripped abdomen and moving down towards the magnificent erection rising straight out from his body—which was when she saw a jagged white scar that ran along his outer hip towards his thigh.

      Her attention torn between the two, she was only vaguely aware of him chuckling. ‘You sure you want to know about that one?’

      ‘The scar?’

      ‘That, too,’ he teased.

      She shook her head. ‘What happened?’

      ‘An unfortunate rendezvous with a piece of barbed wire, thanks to one ferociously competitive younger brother. Not very glamorous.’

      ‘Glamorous!’ Her brows drew together. ‘None of them are glamorous!’

      ‘You’d be surprised how many women find them a turnon.’

      She shuddered. ‘I don’t.’

      ‘No?’ He touched her face almost reverently, gently stroking around the bump on her head that—thankfully—painkillers had taken care of.

      Ava smiled and again surprised herself by touching her lips to his. Something flickered in his darkened eyes as she pulled back. It was some unnamed emotion, and the air between them seemed to pulse. She saw the instant Wolfe rejected whatever it was he was feeling and then, in a move that startled with its swiftness, she found herself flat on her back, with him once again braced over the top of her. He captured her hands in one of his and raised them above her head, the completely carnal smile on his lips making her heartbeat quicken.

      ‘Wolfe, we probably shouldn’t do this again,’ Ava breathed, wishing there was a little more conviction behind her words.

      Wolfe lowered his mouth to hers and nudged her thighs further apart with his knees, grabbed his last condom and slipped inside her wet, welcoming heat. ‘We probably shouldn’t have done it in the first place,’ he said on a long groan.

CHAPTER FOUR

      WOLFE SCOWLED AS he marched across the circular driveway of the château towards the outer cottage, the quartz driveway crunching loudly beneath his boots in the morning air. It was still early, the sky etched in palest blue with a ribbon of orange rimming the horizon.

      Why the hell had he invited her to dinner? And would she take it to mean tonight?

      He wasn’t even meant to be in town tonight. He had a huge meeting first thing tomorrow morning in Hamburg. He didn’t have time to wine and dine a woman. So he’d tell her. Apologise. Explain that he’d forgotten about the business meeting.

      He winced inwardly. She’d no doubt think it was an excuse…but what else could he do?

      An image of waking up beside her caused him to clench his jaw. After years of practice his body had clicked on just before dawn, and he’d come instantly awake to find a warm, sexy woman curled into his side, with her head cushioned on his numb shoulder and her hand curled over his heart, the soft skin of her upper back silky smooth beneath his rough hands.

      No.

      There was no way he could have dinner with her—tonight or any other night. The sex had been great—more than great—but he rarely visited Paris, and even if he did he’d have very little time to see her again. And the last thing he needed was another ear-bashing СКАЧАТЬ