Royal Holiday Bride. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She was too busy enjoying the sensation of his hands on her body to wonder how he’d scored the corner suite that was usually reserved for state visitors of the highest rank. Too preoccupied to appreciate that the thick rug on the floor of the formal sitting room was an antique Savonnerie, or that the mullioned windows were draped with heavy velvet curtains. But she did notice the massive Chippendale four-poster bed with its pale blue silk cover and mountain of pillows when he steered her into the bedroom.

      “One moment,” he said, and released her long enough to light the trio of candles on the rosewood bedside table.

      “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic,” she admitted.

      “There are times when romantic gestures are called for.” He took her hand again, brought it to his lips. “I would say this is one of them.”

      “You’ve already succeeded in luring me to your room,” she reminded him.

      “So I have.” His quick grin was sexy and satisfied as he drew her into his arms again. “And now that I have you here … how about some champagne?”

      She blinked. “Champagne?”

      “Sure, I could call downstairs and ask them to send up a bottle—or we could get something to eat, if you’re hungry.”

      She shook her head. “I don’t want anything but you.”

      “And here I was trying to show some self-restraint.”

      “Why?”

      “Because if I didn’t, we’d already be naked and in the middle of that big bed right now.”

      “I want to see you naked,” she said and reached for the hooks that held his breastplate in place. It was heavier than she’d expected, and it nearly slipped out of her grasp before he took the armor from her and set it aside.

      “Same goes.” He unfastened the braided gold rope at her waist, let it fall to the floor, then turned his attention to the twisted fabric at her shoulder. As he worked the knot, his fingertips brushed her bare skin and yearning flooded through her.

      When the fastening was untied, the silky gown slid down the length of her body to pool at her feet so that she stood before him in only her mask, lacy sapphire bra, matching bikini panties and the gold-colored sandals.

      His gaze skimmed over her, from her shoulders to her toes and back again, slowly, hungrily. “You’re even more beautiful than I anticipated.”

      “And you’re still mostly dressed,” she noted.

      He unclipped his leg guards, kicked off his sandals and tugged the tunic over his head. As she watched him strip away the various pieces of his costume, she couldn’t help but think that he looked even more like a god without the period enhancements.

      His skin was darkly tanned—apparently all over—and stretched taut over glorious muscles. His chest was broad and smooth, and she instinctively reached out to lay her palms against the warm flesh. She felt the sizzle spread through her veins and reverberate low in her belly.

      He reached for the tie at the side of her mask, but she turned her head away. Above the top of his, she saw his brows lift.

      “I’m more comfortable being Juno,” she explained.

      His smile was tinged with amusement and desire. “Then you won’t mind if I keep mine on, too?”

      She suspected it was going to be a little awkward, making love while both of them were wearing masks. But she knew it was the only way she would be able to follow through with her plan. She had no objection to removing all of her clothes so long as her face remained covered, because as much as she wanted to be naked with him, she couldn’t risk her identity being exposed.

      “No,” she responded to his question. “In fact, I’d prefer it.”

      “Okay,” he agreed.

      She exhaled slowly as her hands slid downward. Her fingertips traced over the rippling muscles of his abdomen to the top of his fitted briefs, then dipped inside. He groaned when her fingers wrapped around him, and she had a moment of worry when she registered the size and strength of him. He was huge and rock hard, and the thought of his body joining with hers made her shiver with anticipation.

      “You’re going to obliterate what’s left of my self-restraint,” he warned her.

      She tipped her head back to brush her lips against his. “Good.”

      He cupped his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her off the ground in a move that was so quick and unexpected, her breath whooshed out of her lungs. He tumbled her back onto the bed, the full length of his body pressing against hers, and she gasped with shock and pleasure.

      Then his mouth was on hers again, hot and hungry. He wasn’t coaxing so much as demanding now, and she was more than happy to give him what he wanted, what they both needed. She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, relishing the feel of his flesh beneath her fingertips. She arched beneath him, eager for more, for everything. He nibbled on her bottom lip, and she sighed again as pleasure drowned out caution and reason and everything else. She had no thoughts of anything but this man and this moment, no need for anything more. And then she had no thoughts at all as her mind gave way to the bliss of sensation.

      She was everything Dante had imagined … and more. Beautiful and passionate and so incredibly responsive. And she was his—if only for this one night.

      He stroked his hands slowly down her torso, a careful study of delectable feminine curves. From the sexy slope of her shoulders … to the lushness of her breasts … to the indent of her waist … the flare of her hips … then down those long, shapely legs to the laces of her sandals.

      He broke the kiss and reluctantly levered himself off of her. Her eyelids flickered, opened, and she propped herself up on her elbows. He touched a fingertip to her lips, to silence any questions or protests. She said nothing, but watched him curiously.

      He tugged on the lace that was tied just below her knee, then slowly unwrapped the cord. His fingers traced lightly over her skin as he unwound it, and he heard the catch of her breath. He took his time removing the first sandal, but when he dropped it to the floor, he still held on to her foot. It was narrow and slender and incredibly sexy. He stroked a finger along the arch and felt her shiver. He lifted her foot higher, kissed her ankle, then let his lips skim up her calf to her knee.

      He repeated the same process with her other sandal, her other leg. Then he propped her feet on the edge of the mattress so that her knees were bent and lowered his head between her thighs to kiss her through the thin barrier of lace. She gasped, as if shocked by the intimacy of his mouth on her. But she made no protest when he slid his hands beneath her buttocks, tilting her hips forward to remove her panties.

      He used his thumbs to part the slick folds that protected her womanly core and flicked his tongue over her. Once. Twice. She sucked in a breath, then let it out in a rush. He teased her mercilessly, alternating quick strokes with slow circles until she was whimpering. Then he teased her some more, relentlessly driving her toward the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure and leisurely easing back again. When he was certain that she could take no more—when her heels were digging into the mattress and her hands were fisted in the covers and her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps—he pushed her СКАЧАТЬ