Royal Baby: Forced Wife, Royal Love-Child / Cavelli's Lost Heir / Prince of Montéz, Pregnant Mistress. Sabrina Philips
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here?’
He looked up at her ingenuously. ‘Having dinner with you.’
‘Even after I told you that I wouldn’t dine with you.’
‘No.’ This time he stopped what he was doing and stood up straight, his eyes raking over her in such a way that she wondered if he could see right through the fabric to the truth of her state of undress beneath. ‘What you actually said was that you would not join me for a meal. So I decided to join you instead.’
Anger welled up inside her, any hint of the relaxation afforded by the bath diminishing by the second. ‘I made it plain that I had no wish to see you again tonight.’
He shrugged, that Mediterranean shrug that told her he cared not a damn for whatever she thought. ‘I did not believe that was what you meant. You should know by now that you have a very expressive body. It told me otherwise.’
Heat flooded her face and she turned away, half regretting it when the sudden play of silk over skin sent her senses shimmering further into overdrive.
‘You have no right—’
‘I have every right! This is my principality, my island, my kingdom. Everything and everyone on it is subject to me. And that, my dear Sienna, whether you like it or not, includes you!’
She wheeled back around, grateful for his outburst. Anger was the reaction she’d wanted. Anger she could deal with. ‘So now you fancy yourself as some petty despot and you’ve come to take what you think is yours. Well, sorry, but you don’t suck me in with all that lord of the manor garbage.
Don’t expect me to fall at your feet like some loyal subject grateful to have been asked to service her lord and master.’
His eyes glittered dangerously, a muscle in his jaw popped, and for a moment she feared she’d overstepped the mark. If he wanted to take her now, by force, who would come to her rescue? She was utterly alone here, in a world that was not her own, where the laws were not the laws she understood and where he was the master, the ruler of all.
But he’d never been a prince to her, just a man, and since his oh-so-rapid excision of her from his life, not a man she respected, let alone particularly cared for. So there was no way she would stoop to playing the game by his rules.
‘Oh, I never assumed it would be that simple.’
His intentions thudded into her sensibilities with all the subtlety of cannon fire. Slowly she shook her head. ‘I won’t sleep with you,’ she said, her voice abandoning her, leaving her with nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘I mean it, Rafe. Been there. Done that.’
‘If you say so. So why don’t we just concentrate on what we do agree on? Are you hungry, Sienna?’
Was he talking about food? The way he looked at her, his gaze warm on her skin, his eyes electric in their dark intensity, told her otherwise.
Her stomach chose that precise moment to make itself heard. Sienna shifted her arms over her stomach, but nothing could muffle the rumble, loud and insistent.
He smiled. ‘Clearly you also have a beast that requires feeding. Come. Sit.’
She was hungry, so hungry that not even Rafe’s presence could make a dint in it. But there was no way she was going to be comfortable enough to eat while clad only in a thin silk robe. No way in the world.
‘I … I’ll just get dressed.’ She turned to collect her uniform where she’d left it lying on the bed, thinking that even without the underwear still drying in her bathroom, it would put more of a barrier between them than a mere whisper of silk.
But there was no uniform. She looked around, confused, sure she’d left it on the bed before her bath. She pulled open a closet door, thinking it might have been hung up, to find the closet devoid of everything but hangers.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked behind her.
‘My uniform. It’s gone.’
‘Why should you need it?’
‘I left it on the bed, and now it’s gone.’
‘You seem to have an unusual knack for losing things. First, your helicopter. Now your uniform.’
She wheeled around, not fooled for a moment. ‘You might consider this is all some sort of game, but I don’t.’
‘I assure you, this is no game.’ His expression sent shock waves through her system, his voice set so low and deep that the words vibrated through her, and his eyes lit with an intensity that left her breathless. ‘And just for the record,’ he continued, letting his lips turn up into the barest of smiles, ‘your uniform is in safe hands. It has merely been taken away for laundering. You will have it back by morning. Do you have a problem with clean clothes?’
Damn the man! ‘Only that you expect me to sit down and dine wearing nothing more than a silk robe. Of course there’s a problem!’
His eyes flared as they cruised hungrily over her robe like a heat-seeking missile. ‘Nothing more?’
She turned away, cursing herself for her inadvertent admission, but he didn’t wait for her response. ‘If you feel at a disadvantage, I could similarly divest myself of a few extraneous garments.’ She turned back to see him make a move to start unbuttoning his shirt and she tossed her head, determined not to let him see just how much he’d rattled her. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I didn’t want, and wasn’t expecting, company. What I meant is I’m hardly dressed for dinner.’
‘On the contrary,’ his eyes raking over her with all the subtlety of a hungry jungle cat, devouring her in a single heated glance, ‘you are delightfully attired. Did anyone ever tell you how much those tones complement your colouring? You have the most beautiful skin,’ he said, drawing close enough to touch the back of one finger to her cheek. ‘Like the finest porcelain. So pale, almost translucent.’
Her heart was beating so loud she was sure he must hear it, her nipples so rock-like under their silken covering, there was no way he couldn’t see them if he lowered his eyes.
But his gaze remained fixed on her face, searching her eyes, before lingering so long on her lips that they tingled under his scrutiny, so long that she realised she’d been holding her breath the entire time. Her lips parted as she drew in air, and suddenly his scent filled her and she could taste the man on her tongue, and the hunger she had been feeling changed direction.
He could kiss her now. The thought came from somewhere from the deep, dark recesses of her mind, somewhere forbidden and unwelcome. But the path was clear. He would kiss her, and she would accept his kiss, and then she would push her hands against his chest and be the one to break it off, before things went too far, before he assumed more than he already had.
But first—oh, God yes—first she would have that kiss.
The air crackled around her, heavy with expectation, every breath an eternity as his lips hovered so close to hers, the tug of his fingers through her hair and the glide of his nails against her scalp an exquisite torture.
And, as she gazed up at him, something skated across his eyes, something that told her he thought he had her right where he wanted her, something that tugged her ability to reason right back from whatever dark place she’d temporarily locked it away.
And reason told her she’d been kidding herself. Because if she kissed him now, she’d never stop. If she put her hands up to his chest it wouldn’t be to push him away, but to drink in the feel of his skin over muscled chest with her fingers. And one kiss would never be enough.
‘You’re right.’ She mouthed the words, hardly recognising her own voice as she saw the answering question in his eyes, momentarily thrown off track.
‘About what?’
It was her turn to smile. ‘I’m