A Bride For The Playboy Prince: The perfect royal romance to celebrate Harry and Meghan’s wedding. Sandra Marton
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which was washing over her. The realisation that this really was goodbye. Fishing the key from her bag, she fumbled with the lock before turning back to face him, unprepared for the painful clench of her heart and an aching sense of loss. She would never see him again, she realised. Never know that great rush of adrenaline whenever he was close, or the pleasurable ache of her body whenever he touched her. For a split second she found herself wondering why she’d been stupid enough to finish with him, instead of eking out every available second until her royal lover had ended the relationship himself. She’d done it to protect herself from potential heartache, but what price was that protection now?
Sliding her arms around his neck, she reached up on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his. ‘Be happy,’ she whispered. ‘Goodnight, Luc.’
Luc froze as the touch of her lips ignited all his repressed fantasies. He felt it ripple over his skin like the tide lapping over dry sand as he tried to hold back. He told himself that kissing a man was predatory and he didn’t like predatory women. He was the master—in charge of every aspect of his life—and he’d already decided that no good could come from a brief sexual encounter.
Yet his throat dried and his groin hardened as the warmth of her body drew him in, because this was different. This was Lisa and her kiss was all the things it shouldn’t be. Soft yet evocative—and full of passionate promise. It reminded him of just how hot she’d been in his bed and yet how cool the next morning.
And it was over.
It had to be over.
So why wasn’t he disentangling her arms and walking back towards his purring limousine? Why was he pushing her through her door and slamming it shut behind them? A low moan of hunger erupted from somewhere deep inside him as he pushed her up against the wall and drove his mouth down on hers.
LUC WAS AWARE of little other than a fierce sexual need pumping through his veins as he crushed his lips down on Lisa’s. He barely noticed the cramped hallway as he levered her up against the peeling wallpaper, or the faint chill of damp in the air as her arms closed around him. He was aware of nothing other than her soft flesh and the hard jerk of the erection which throbbed insistently at his groin.
He kissed her until she cried out his name. Until she circled her hips over his with a familiar restlessness which made him slide his hand underneath the hem of her silver dress. His heart pounded. Her legs were bare and her thighs were cool and he could hear the silent scream of his conscience as his fingertips began their inevitable ascent. He thought about all the reasons why this shouldn’t happen, but he was too hot to heed caution and this was too easy. As easy as breathing. He swallowed. With her it always had been that way.
She gave a shuddering little moan as he reached her panties and the sound only fuelled his own hunger.
‘Luc,’ she gasped.
But he didn’t answer. He was too busy sliding the panties aside to provide access for his finger. Too busy reacquainting himself with her moist and eager flesh. He teased her clitoris until she bucked with pleasure and he could smell the earthy scent of sex in the air.
‘Hell, you’re responsive,’ he ground out.
‘Are you surprised when you touch me like...that?’
Her hands were reaching blindly for his zip and Luc held his breath as she eased it down. His trousers concertinaed to the ground like those of a schoolboy in an alley, and her dextrous hands were now dealing with his boxer shorts—peeling them down until his buttocks were bare. She was cupping his balls and scraping her fingernails gently over their soft swell and in response he reached down and tore her panties apart with a savage rip of the delicate material. Her low laugh reminded him of how much she liked to be dominated in the bedroom and, although his conscience made one last attempt to tell him this was wrong, ruthlessly, he erased it from his mind. Halting her just long enough to remove a condom from his pocket, he tore open the foil with unsteady fingers before sheathing himself.
And then it was happening and there didn’t seem to be a damned thing he could do about it. It was as if he were on a speeding train with no idea how to stop. He cupped her bottom so that she could wrap her legs around his hips. Her lips were parted against his cheek and her breasts were flattened against his chest.
‘Are you sure you want this?’ he whispered, his tip grazing provocatively against her slick flesh.
Her words came out as gasps. ‘Are you?’
‘I’ll give you three guesses,’ he murmured and drove deep into her.
His thrusts were urgent and her cries so loud that he had to kiss them silent. It was mindless and passionate and it was over very quickly. She came almost instantly and so did he, hot seed spurting into the rubber and making his body convulse helplessly. He pressed his head against her neck and, as one of her curls attached itself to his lips, he wished it hadn’t been so brief. Why the hell hadn’t he taken his time? Undressed her slowly and tantalised them both, while demonstrating his legendary control?
He cupped his hand over her pulsating mound, feeling the damp curls tangling in his fingers and enjoying the last few spasms as they died away. Already he could feel himself growing hard and knew from experience that Lisa would like nothing better than to do it all over again. But he couldn’t stay for a repeat performance. No way. He needed to get out of there, and fast. To forget this had ever happened and put it to the back of his mind. To get on with his future instead of stupidly allowing himself to be dragged back into the past. He bent down and tugged his trousers back up, struggling to slide the zip over his growing erection, before glancing around the cramped hallway.
‘Bedroom?’ he questioned succinctly.
She swallowed. ‘Third door along.’
It wasn’t difficult to find in such a small apartment, and he thought the room was unremarkable except for the rich fabric which covered a sagging armchair and a small vase of fragrant purple flowers on the windowsill. Luc drew the curtains and snapped on a small lamp, intending just to see her safely in bed. To kiss her goodbye and tell her she was lovely—maybe even cover her up with a duvet and suggest she get some sleep. But somehow it didn’t quite work out that way. Because once inside her bedroom it seemed a crime not to pull the quicksilver dress over her head and feast his eyes on her body. And an even bigger crime not to enjoy the visual fantasy of her lying on top of the duvet, wearing nothing but an emerald-green bra and a pair of sexy high-heeled shoes.
‘Lisa,’ he said, thinking how hollow his voice sounded.
In the soft lamplight he could see the bright gleam of her eyes.
She wriggled a little, her thighs parting fractionally in invitation. ‘Mmm...?’
Luc knew she was teasing him and that this was even more dangerous. He told himself he didn’t want to get back into that special shorthand of lovers or remind himself how good this part of their relationship had always been. Yet somehow his body was refusing to heed the voice of reason as he took her hand and guided her fingers to the rocky hardness at his groin.
‘Seems like I want you again,’ he drawled.
She laughed as her fingers dipped beneath the waistband and circled his aroused flesh. ‘No kidding?’
‘What do you think we ought to do about it?’ he questioned silkily.
Her voice grew husky as she mimicked his voice. ‘I’ll give you three guesses.’
His mouth was dry as he undressed them both, impatiently pushing their discarded clothing onto the floor as he reacquainted himself with her curves. He groaned as she caressed the tense muscles of his thighs with those beautiful long fingers. Her curls tickled him as she bent to slide her tongue down over the hollow of his belly. But when she reached the tip of his aching shaft, he grabbed a thick rope of curls.
‘No,’ he said unsteadily.
‘But