The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит

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      He had good taste, the Prince of Arrogance, she thought wryly. A career as a personal shopper could be his in the blink of an eye.

      The dress was a perfect fit, demure and businesslike even as it made the most of her slender figure. The shoes were gorgeous. Straps that wound around her foot. Stiletto heels as thin as the blade for which they were named.

      Could he possibly know shoes were her weakness?

      No, she thought. The better probability was that they were his weakness. Maybe later tonight, he’d want her in the stilettos and nothing besides the black lace thong…

      “Oh God,” she whispered, and felt her heart rate shoot into the stratosphere.

      Jewelry, she thought numbly, because it was safer to think about that than about what happened to her body each time she imagined being in this room, in that bed, with the gorgeous Alexandros. How could you hate a man and still want him?

      A question for another time, not for the one minute—the one minute she had left!

      Fortunately, she’d dumped a couple of pieces of her stuff into her handbag. A twisted gold chain? No. A shorter one, intricately braided? No. A slender gold rope with a hunk of polished amber knotted at the center? Yes. Perfect. Small gold hoops in her ears. Had she forgotten anything? She certainly had. A quick swipe of mascara. Sheer cherry lip gloss. A dab of powder on her suddenly shiny nose.

      She took a steadying breath. Another. Ready or not, she thought, and she unlocked the bedroom door.

      He was right outside it, waiting for her.

      ‘Gorgeous’ was the wrong word to describe him. ‘Spectacular’ came closer, but it still didn’t quite cover it.

      Say something, Maria told herself, but her brain was numb. She could only look at him as he stood leaning back against the cypress balustrade that enclosed the open loft, arms folded, ankles crossed, the very portrait of The Male Waiting for his Date. He wore a grey jacket, a black open-necked shirt, black trousers and darkest brown mocs. His hair was damp; he was freshly shaven…

      He was beautiful. The in-the-flesh subject of a woman’s dreams, except she didn’t have dreams like those. Well, not until after that night they’d made love. Correction. That night they’d had sex, and look where that had led.

      He said nothing. Showed nothing. Slowly, slowly enough to make her wonder if the dress didn’t look as good as she thought, his gaze traveled from the top of her head all the way to her toes, then back up again.

      That was when he smiled. A slow, lazy, purely masculine curve of his lips that sent shock waves through her blood.

      “Just one thing …” He reached out, took the clip from her hair and let all the wild curls tumble to her shoulders. “Perfect,” he said softly.

      She had to stop herself from returning the compliment. Instead, she tossed her head as if it meant nothing. Damned if that didn’t make him grin.

      “Shall we?” he said, holding out his hand.

      Maria ignored the offer, brushed past him and went down the stairs.

      His car was a low-slung, snarling crimson beast.

      A Maserati. A Lamborghini. A Ferrari. One of those, she was certain, but what would a born-and-bred New Yorker know? Subway trains, yes. Automobiles, no. The only certainty was that he drove fast, too fast, with a macho assurance that she tried not to let impress her.

      But it did.

      Was there a female alive who wouldn’t be impressed by a man so beautiful it hurt to look at him, driving a car that rumbled like a big, predatory animal? One hand was curved over the steering wheel. The other rested lightly on the gear shift lever.

      Such competent hands. So powerful. His hands had been all over her the night they’d met. She could still feel them, if she closed her eyes. His fingertips playing with her nipples. His thumbs gently parting her labia. Her shocked cries that had quickly turned to sobs of ecstasy.

      She felt the instant bloom of warmth between her thighs.

      “Something the matter?”

      His voice startled her. She looked at him and thought it was a good thing he didn’t have X-ray vision or he’d see straight through her clothes, see that she was wet, that her nipples were peaked.

      “Maria?”

      I want you, she thought dizzily, that’s what’s the matter.

      “Are you worried about dinner tonight?”

      No, she thought, on a faint wave of hysteria, not dinner.

      “Don’t be. This is just my family.”

      Dinner. She had to remember that. He was talking about dinner.

      “Oh,” she said, and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

      Alex felt his muscles contract. Did she have to look so beautiful? Did she have to worry her lip that way? Damn it, this was not good. He should never have kissed her in the guesthouse. He’d taken two cold showers before he got dressed and he was still hard with wanting her.

      What if he pulled the car over, took her in his arms and nipped that sweet bottom lip himself? Just lightly enough to make her moan and sigh and beg him…

      “Family?” she said, and he blinked.

      “Uh, yes. Family. My older brother, Sebastian. My baby brother, Andreas. My sister Katarina—everyone calls her Kitty. The only one missing will be Elissa. She’s in Paris.”

      “So many people?”

      The tip of her tongue slicked over that softly bitten, now undoubtedly sensitive bottom lip. By the time they reached the palace, he’d be completely out of his mind. When had this woman assumed such power over him? It made him angry, and his words were more harsh than he’d intended.

      “Don’t tell me you’re nervous about meeting royalty, glyka mou. After all, you did fine with me the first time out.”

      She swung toward him.

      “I told you, I didn’t know who you were.”

      “Right. You just happened to meet me on the street and when I suggested we go to bed, you said, hey, I have nothing else to do, so why not?”

      It hadn’t been like that and he knew it. She’d been sweetly innocent; he’d seduced her with words, with caresses, with a need unlike any he’d ever experienced in all his thirty-one years. Except, it had all been a lie. She’d set him up. She had seduced him…

      Hadn’t she?

      “You know what, Alex?” she said, her voice shaking. “You’re a real bastard!”

      She was right. What was between them was personal and had nothing to do with this evening’s gathering. Tonight was about plans for the national celebration of his mother’s birthday. Affairs of state СКАЧАТЬ