Medical Romance June 2016 Books 1-6. Lynne Marshall
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you absolutely sure? Because I need to know now or it might kill me to stop.”
“I’m sure, okay?” He appeared so suddenly hesitant she was afraid he’d leap up and leave, which might kill her. “Take my word for it. The last thing I want is to end up in a Mediterranean prison for killing a prince.”
He chuckled against her mouth. “The prisons at home don’t have as many rats as they used to, but it’s probably still wise to stay out of them.”
“That’s my plan.”
“Good. Coincides well with mine.” She gasped as his lips moved to her jaw, down to her throat, touching the sensitive spot beneath her ear as he deftly flicked the front clasp of her bra open. “I’m wondering if you’re perhaps overly warm. I know I am.”
Before she could even form an answer, he’d somehow managed to slip her T-shirt over her head and her bra straps down her arms and was staring at her nakedness. His eyes were dark and slashes of color rode high on his cheekbones as his gaze scorched her. Her heart thumped so hard against her ribs she thought he might actually be able to see it pounding.
“You are even more beautiful than I envisioned, mi ángel.” The glide of his touch across her breasts felt nearly reverent as his gaze returned to hers, and even as she was shocked that she was doing this, letting herself be with a man again, with this man in particular, she wanted him more than she could ever remember wanting anyone.
He kissed her again, hotter and more intense, lying nearly on top of her now, pressing her into the cushions, and the small groan that left his mouth and swirled into hers just about set her on fire. Knowing he was as aroused as she was had her arching her back for more, pressing her breasts against him, only to discover it wasn’t enough to feel his shirt there. She wanted his skin against hers, and fumbled to get the shirt open and off.
Except she hadn’t done this for a long time, and never with a tuxedo shirt, which she was learning had aggravatingly difficult buttons, and couldn’t manage to make it happen. Her sounds of frustration made him smile against her mouth before he leaned back.
“Let me, bella.”
In a slow striptease, he worked the buttons one by one, his lips curved at the same time his eyes smoldered, intently focused on her as she watched him. Inch by torturous inch, he exposed a chest even more muscled than she remembered, his bronzed skin covered with dark hair that looked as soft and silky and outrageously manly as the rest of him.
Mouth dry, she knew with certainty that this was truly a Cinderella night. That she’d never again be with a man as physically perfect as Prince Rafael Moreno, and she still couldn’t quite wrap her brain around the fact that he wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him.
Then she couldn’t admire his chest anymore because he lowered himself to her, his bare and scorchingly hot torso pressed against hers. He kissed her again, and she practically drowned in the deliciousness of it all. Her bones turned to utter liquid when he skimmed that talented mouth down her throat, across her collarbone, then on to her breasts. Gasping, her hands burrowed into the thick softness of his hair as he ministered to one nipple, then the other, and she didn’t care that she was making little sounds and moving beneath him and pressing against him because control had gone out the window and all she wanted was to experience the incredible way he was making her feel.
Vaguely, she was aware of wide, warm palms slipping inside her sweatpants to cup her rear, then more aware of his hot mouth tracking from her breast down her belly as the pants and panties disappeared off over her feet, leaving her naked. Strong hands slid back up her legs to caress her thighs, his mouth following.
“Rafael.” She didn’t know what she was going to say, exactly, and wasn’t sure she could talk at all—her breath was so choppy she feared she might hyperventilate.
“Gabriella.” His teeth nipped her knee, followed by a teasing lick, moving up to her hipbone, and she jumped with a laughing gasp. “Shall we take this to the bedroom?”
“No. I might combust before then.”
A low, masculine laugh full of satisfaction swept across her skin. “Bueno. Me as well.”
Licking across her quivering belly, he touched her right where she wanted to be touched, and she gasped and wriggled against his talented fingers, until finally she couldn’t wait any longer. She reached for him, only to realize his darned pants were still on and completely in the way, just like his shirt had been. “What are your pants doing on? Get them off, fast.”
He gave a short laugh. “And you call me bossy?”
“I’m assertive when I need to be. And, believe me, right now I need to be.”
His eyes blazed at her with both amusement and heat. “My pants are on because I keep a condom in them. But not for long.”
“I appreciate a prepared prince,” she managed to say.
Another husky chuckle left his lips as he shucked his pants and took care of the condom, thankfully seeming to be in as much of a hurry as she was. He lowered his body to hers, and she gasped at the amazing sensation as he gently, slowly joined with her body, arching helplessly as they began to move together.
“Cariña. Mi ángel.” His whispered words had her blinking open her eyes, and his were the greenest she’d seen them, focused and gleaming and locked on hers. More Spanish words left his lips, first in whispers then louder as they rocked together until she cried out, and he joined with her in a long, low groan that reverberated in her chest.
The way he gathered her against him, tangling his fingers in her hair to tuck her face against his warm throat, felt tender and protective, and Gabby let herself absorb the intimacy and wonder of it. She tried hard not to think about how good it felt, how right, and how, when midnight came, Cinderella would be back in her corner all alone once again.
RAFAEL LISTENED TO the sound of his footsteps echoing across the marble-tiled foyer and wished he’d worn his scrubs and crepe-soled shoes instead, planning to change out of his regular shirt and dress pants if he’d needed to deliver a baby. Then cursed lightly under his breath at himself as he caught himself glancing around guiltily.
When was the last time he’d felt like a boy trying to sneak around undetected? Not since he’d been in primary school, since even before high school most people in authority hadn’t felt comfortable disciplining the second-born prince of their country. It was no wonder he’d run a little wild at times.
His various sports adventures, dating adventures, and foolish errors in judgment had been so well documented by the press over the years, he’d believed he was immune to caring about it. And he was immune, really, except that he had to care for Gabriella’s sake.
Yes, there were the occasional non-sensationalized stories. Ones that talked about medical school, and the years of study he put in to become a doctor and his actual work. But articles like that didn’t seem to hold as much interest for most people as the simple fact that he’d been born under the blessing and curse of royalty.
Not that it was only the public who felt that way, since his own family was pretty uninterested in his accomplishments. There were those times when he was happy about the press coverage, if it brought attention to the needs of the many women around the world who were underserved by proper medical care—or didn’t have access to care at all. But those kinds of stories were unfortunately few and far between.
As he skulked through the clinic, he felt ridiculous. And selfish. Spending time with Gabriella while he was in L.A. was more than good for him, but for her? Not so much. Being out in public with him definitely exposed her to potential embarrassment, with the media sniffing around. To having things publicly spread about her, and whether they were truth or lies wouldn’t matter.
He’d dated plenty of women who liked having their faces in the tabloids, holding