A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton
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the mattress and leaned over her, his eyes suddenly narrowing. ‘But you do realise that this changes nothing? I’m still not in a position to offer you any kind of future.’
Her smile was brittle. ‘Don’t make this all about you, Luc,’ she said. ‘It’s supposed to be about mutual pleasure.’
A spear of jealousy ran through him. ‘And have you had many other lovers?’ he questioned. ‘A stream of men lying just like this on your bed?’”
‘You have no right to ask me something like that.’
‘Is that a yes?’
She shook her head but now her voice was shaking with indignation.
‘If you must know, there’s been nobody since you,’ she declared. ‘And before you start reading anything into that—don’t bother. There hasn’t been time for sex, that’s all. I’ve been juggling too many balls and trying to keep my business afloat.’
But Lisa knew she wasn’t being completely honest as she heard his low laugh of triumph. Of course there hadn’t been anybody else—because who could compare to the arrogant Prince? Who else could make her feel all the stuff that Luc did? But he didn’t want feelings—he wasn’t in the market for that and he never had been. Hadn’t he just emphasised that very fact? So pretend you don’t care. Show him you’re independent and liberated and not building stupid fantasies which are never going to happen.
‘And just to put your mind at rest, yes—I do realise you’re not in the market for a wedding ring,’ she added drily.
For a moment she felt him grow tense—as if he was going to say something—and she looked up at him expectantly. But the moment passed and instead he bent his head to kiss her—a kiss that was long and slow and achingly provocative. It made her remember with painful clarity just what she’d been missing. The intimate slide of his fingertips over her skin. The way he could play her body as if he were playing a violin. He grazed his mouth over her swollen breasts, teasing each nipple with his teeth as her hands clutched at the bedclothes beneath her.
She realised she was still wearing her shoes and that the high heels were in danger of ripping through the cotton duvet. She bent one knee to unfasten the buckle but he forestalled her with an emphatic shake of his head.
‘No,’ he growled as he straddled her, his finger reaching down to caress the leather as if it were an extension of her own skin. ‘The shoes stay.’
She could feel the weight of his body and his erection pressing against her belly. He put his hand between her thighs and started to stroke her and Lisa wondered how she could have lived without this for so long.
‘Luc,’ she breathed as a thousand delicious sensations began to ripple over her.
His thumb stilled. ‘You want more?’
She wanted him to hold her tightly and tell her how much he’d missed her, but she was never going to get that. So concentrate on what he can give you.
‘Much more,’ she said, coiling her arms around his neck. ‘I want to feel you inside me again.’
He made her wait, eking out each delicious touch until she was almost weeping with frustration. She could feel the wetness between her thighs as he pushed them apart at last and heard his soft words of French as he entered her.
There was triumph as well as pleasure in his smile as he started to thrust his pelvis and suddenly Lisa wanted to snatch some of the control back. With insistent hands she pushed at his chest and, their bodies still locked, rolled him onto his back so that she was now on top. She saw the light of pleasure which danced in his eyes as she cupped her breasts and began to play with them, tipping her head backwards so that her curls bounced all the way down her back.
‘Lisa!’ Now it was his turn to gasp as he clamped his hands over her hips, anchoring her to him as their movements became more urgent. He pulled her head down so that he could kiss her, the movement of his tongue mimicking the more intimate thrusts he was making deep inside her.
Lisa shuddered because it felt so real. So primitive. This was the most alive she’d felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
She found herself wanting to rake her fingernails over his flesh—even though he’d always been so insistent she shouldn’t mark him. But suddenly the desire to do just that was too strong to resist. Caught in a moment made bittersweet by the knowledge that it would never be repeated, she felt the first waves of her orgasm as she touched her lips to his shoulder. The first ripple of pleasure hit her and just before it took her under, she bit him. Bit him and sucked at his flesh like some rookie vampire, and the salty taste of his sweat and his blood on her lips only seemed to intensify her pleasure. His too, judging by the ragged cry he gave as he bucked inside her.
Afterwards she lay there, slumped against his damp body—not wanting to move or speak or to do anything which might destroy the delicious sense of completeness which enveloped her.
Go to sleep, she urged him silently as she listened to the muffled pounding of his heart. Go to sleep and let’s pretend we’re two normal people one last time. I can make you toast and coffee in the morning, and we can sit on stools in my tiny kitchen and forget that you’re a prince and I’m a commoner before you walk out of my life for good.
But he was wide awake. She could tell from the tension in his body and the way he suddenly eased himself out of her body. Without a word, he pushed back the sheet and got out of bed.
‘Luc?’ she questioned, but he had switched on the main light and was walking over to the oval mirror which hung on the wall.
The harsh light emphasised just how cheap the room must look to a man used to palaces—throwing into relief the threadbare rug and the chipped paintwork which she hadn’t yet got around to restoring. Tipping his head back, he narrowed his eyes as he studied the bite on his neck, which was already turning a deep magenta colour.
‘Bathroom?’ he snapped.
‘J-just along the corridor,’ she stumbled.
He was back some minutes later, having obviously splashed his face with water and raked his fingers through his ruffled black hair in an attempt to tame it. And then her heart clenched with disbelief as he bent down to pick up his clothes and began pulling them on. Surely he wasn’t planning on leaving straight away? She’d known it was only ever going to be a one-off but she’d hoped he’d at least sleep with her.
‘Is something wrong?’ she asked.
‘You mean, apart from the fact that you’ve bitten my neck, like some teenage girl on a first date?’ He paused in the act of buttoning up his shirt, his lips tight with anger as he turned to look at her. ‘What was the point of that, Lisa? Did you want to make sure you left a trophy mark behind?’
‘I know. I know. I shouldn’t have done it.’ She gave a helpless shrug. ‘But you were just too delicious to resist.’
But he didn’t smile back. In the glaring light she could see how stony his sapphire eyes looked. He finished dressing and slipped on his shoes. ‘I have to go,’ he said, giving a quick glance at his watch. ‘I shouldn’t even be here.’
‘Oh?’ Her voice was very quiet as she looked at him. ‘Have you suddenly decided that my new downmarket accommodation is a little too basic for His Royal Highness? Can’t wait to get away now you’ve had what you came for?’
‘Please don’t, Lisa,’ he said. ‘Don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. This should never have happened. We both know that.’
She sat up in bed then, her hair falling over her shoulders as she grabbed at the rumpled sheet to cover her breasts, shielding them from the automatic darkening of his eyes as they jiggled free. ‘But you were the one who came into my shop!’ she protested furiously. ‘The one who practically bribed me into going to that wedding party with you—’
‘And you were the one who came onto me on your doorstep when I had