The Prince's Texas Bride / The Reluctant Princess. Leanne Banks
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shoulders, wanting to absorb his strength and power into her. The kiss turned deeply passionate, almost carnal, making her cling to him.
He murmured something delicious against her lips, and suddenly she felt the night air against her back as he unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt. His hand on the bare skin of her waist stopped her breath. Seconds later, one of his hands slid upward to her breast, and she pushed against it, resenting the barriers of her shirt and bra. She wanted to feel his skin.
Part of her was shocked at the force of her desire, but another part of her knew she’d been waiting for this—for him—for years. She felt as if she were riding a tsunami of sensation and refused to fight it. She tugged at his shirt, he pulled at hers, and buttons flung loose. Seconds later, he unfastened her bra and her breasts sprang free. He immediately covered one of her breasts with his hand.
Her nipple was hard and sensitized to his touch. He swore under his breath as he toyed with her nipple at the same time as he French-kissed her. She drank in the spicy, masculine scent of him and felt as if the world was turning sideways.
Stefan clasped his hand beneath her hips and lifted her upward. At the same time, he lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth, she felt his hardness pressed against her.
Dizzy with want, she slumped against him.
Stefan groaned, lifting his head and pulling her tightly against him. “We need to be together,” he whispered. “I want you in my bed.”
A shiver of the need he expressed raced through her. “How? Where?”
He gave a rough sound of frustration. “If it were up to me, it would be here and now. But I want privacy for the both of us.”
She sighed and tried to gather her wits. Was this what she really wanted? Was he what he really wanted? Eve was only certain of one thing. She couldn’t miss him. Stefan affected her in a way no man ever had, and she craved the ultimate closeness with him. She wanted him so much it scared her, but she wasn’t going to let her fear keep her from him.
“Then when?” she finally asked and met his gaze.
His dark eyes met hers, and she saw the strained passion there. The strength of it reassured her rather than frightened her. “You make it difficult for me not to take you now, chérie. Tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll make arrangements for you to come to my suite. I’ll work it out tomorrow.”
A ripple of anticipation and nerves raced through her. “It may not be wise—”
He covered her lips with his fingers. “It’s beyond choice. We both feel it.”
She nodded, savoring the heat of his body. “Okay,” she said, then whispered, “But this is totally against all my rules.”
He chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips. “Mine, too, Eve. Mine, too. Now, before I give into my darker urges, I’d better walk you back to your quarters.”
“What about the champagne and the glasses?” she asked.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send a member of my security to collect them,” he said and took her hand. “Let’s go.”
The next morning, she awakened a little later than usual. Stefan had insisted she take a day of vacation. So she slept until 9:00 a.m. This was the first morning she’d woken up not feeling like she was going to hyperventilate. Not that she would admit that to a soul.
Stretching her arms, she yawned, then smiled, pleased that the parade had gone off without a hitch. She’d passed her first test. Thank goodness. A sliver of anxiety rippled through her at the thought of Stefan’s plans for tonight. Had she lost her mind? He was not only her boss, he was a prince.
He was also a man, she told herself. A man she wanted and who wanted her. Taking a deep breath, she slid out of her bed and stepped onto the carpet. Her toes appreciated the soft cushion for her first steps of the day. She realized she’d hit the ground running so much she hadn’t noticed the small comfort.
Stretching again, she walked to the tiny kitchenette and started her coffee. She peeked inside her mostly bare refrigerator and pulled out cream for her coffee, marmalade for her toast and orange juice. She popped bread in the toaster and wandered toward the door of her quarters to pick up the paper. She’d made double sure she would receive the daily paper. After the incident with the protestors, she’d decided she needed to stay informed even though the Chantaine newspaper read like an odd combination of a scandal sheet and traditional news.
The front page was filled with photographs of the parade, featuring the royal family and government officials on horseback. The largest photo showed Stefan riding with the young boy on Black. Her heart twisted at the image of him. Lord help her, the man was so handsome. She noticed the way his hand curled around the boy, holding him securely. The boy smiled broadly while Stefan’s mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile.
Fascinating man, she thought. For a moment she wondered what Stefan would be like if he weren’t a prince. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine him as a Texan. He would be a Renaissance man, she decided, with a huge empire. Obscenely successful, she thought. Nothing less would be acceptable. His woman would be … She frowned in concentration. Blonde, beautiful, but brainy. The perfect accessory on his arm.
Nothing like me.
She frowned again, feeling a stab of displeasure and immediately pushing it aside. She shook her head at herself. This was what happened when she had time on her hands. Her mind traveled down all kinds of crazy paths. She rattled the paper and refocused, scanning the rest of the front page. A headline at the bottom of the page grabbed her attention. Royal Stable Master Reports Prince’s Horse Is Worth Billions for Sperm.
Billions! She’d never said billions. Who was reporting this? She hadn’t talked to anyone … except the man at the end of the parade. Her stomach sank in realization. Even though she’d cut the conversation short, she’d obviously said more than she should.
Less than a moment later, her cell phone rang. She darted through the living area to her bedside table where she’d left it and immediately glanced at the caller ID. Her stomach sank even further. The palace office was calling.
“Hello. Eve Jackson,” she said and began to pace.
“Ms. Jackson, this is Louis calling for Franz Cyncad. We have a public relations concern. Your presence is required in the Palace Office.”
Great, she thought. Franz was right up there at the top of the food chain. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Mr. Cyncad is finalizing the appropriate strategy. He will meet with you after lunch at fourteen hundred.”
Eve bit back an oath. Not only did she know she would be disciplined or perhaps even fired, now she had to wait to hear about it. “I’ll be there.”
“Very well. Goodbye,” he said and disconnected the call.
Adrenaline pumping through her, Eve immediately went into survivor mode. With her upbringing, it was second nature. She wondered if she should go ahead and make a call to her former boss. She’d made sure to leave on good terms. She might not be able to get her exact position, but the company had been pleased with her work. Or she could start contracting for several horse ranchers. Stefan would pay her severance.
Her heart was hammering and her stomach was twisting as she glanced out her window at the cobblestone drive, the lush green trees and pink flowers. She felt a deep sense of regret twist through her. For the first time in weeks, she was acutely aware of the fact that she didn’t want to leave. She loved the horses, and her feelings for Stefan … were overwhelming. Until now, she’d been totally absorbed with the parade and intermittent bouts of homesickness she’d pushed aside. Eve had learned at a very young age that denial was an important tool of survival.
But this wasn’t her childhood, and she wasn’t going to be chased out of her home due to bankruptcy. So maybe she shouldn’t jump off the first available cliff. She took a deep breath and slowly