Her body was pressed so firmly against his she could feel every powerful throb of his erection against her belly. It seemed to resonate in perfect time with that pulsing ache in her womb. Her senses weren’t just reeling; they were spinning out of control. Desire was a blazing fire inside her flesh, racing through the network of her veins, firing up every nerve and cell with combustible force. Her breasts felt acutely sensitive where they were crushed against the hard wall of his chest, her nipples tightly budded in response to her arousal. Her inner core was already damp and humid with want. She could feel the warm satin silkiness of it when she moved her body against the deliciously tempting friction of his.
His hands left her wrists and splayed through her hair, which somehow was now tousled about her shoulders instead of restrained behind her head. He captured a thick handful of it as he deepened the kiss. There was something almost primitive about his hold, like an alpha male ruthlessly taking control of the mate he had selected for his pleasure. It unleashed something equally primal in her. She nipped at his lower lip with kittenish bites, sweeping her tongue over it each time she released it.
He groaned deep in his throat and his hand tightened in her hair almost to the point of pain. He took control of her mouth by covering it again with his, crushing her lips beneath the hot firm pressure of his. His tongue mated with hers in a sexy coupling that made her stomach drop like a desk drawer pulled out too quickly.
Her hands were around his neck, her fingers delving into the thick pelt of his hair, her mouth held captive by the mesmerising magic of his. I want this. I want you. I want to be wanted. It was like a silent mantra inside her head in perfect time with every thudding heartbeat that was sending her blood through her veins at a dizzying speed.
He suddenly pulled back and glinted at her with those sinfully dark eyes. ‘Let’s find a room. Your palace or mine?’
Lottie was jolted out of the sensual spell he had woven around her like a fist thrusting through a cobweb. What was she doing? Where was her poise and self-control? One kiss and she was his for the asking?
Not going to happen.
Did he really think she was going to dive headfirst into his bed just like every other woman he made a play for, only to have him dismiss her like a toy that no longer held its initial appeal? He looked so assured, so supremely confident. Arrogant. She would be just another notch on his bedpost; no doubt her royal status would be of particular appeal to such a shallow celebrity trophy hunter. She had learned that lesson before—the hard way.
She wasn’t naive enough to fall for it again.
Not any more.
But rather than give him the satisfaction to know he had got so far under her skin she decided to go along with it … to a point. It would be fun to have the last laugh, to score a few points against him.
Lottie put on a worldly look, even managing a coquettish smile. ‘Your place. Shall we say in half an hour?’
‘Make it an hour.’ His dark eyes glinted again. ‘I want to slip into something more comfortable.’
LOTTIE WAS CONGRATULATING herself as she walked on the main beach an hour later. She could picture Lucca Chatsfield in his penthouse with a bottle of the finest French champagne in an ice bucket, the sheets on his king-size bed laid back in preparation, maybe even some rose petals scattered there. Some in-house scented candles burning on the bedside table with their scent of bergamot and sandalwood. His lean and toned body draped in a Chatsfield blue silk bathrobe with its gold embroidered C on the right breast, while he waited for her to knock on the door to attend one of his legendary scenes of seduction.
She smiled as she thought of the minutes and then the hours ticking by. His frustration building, his sense of humour souring.
One up to you, my girl.
She walked the full length of the beach, losing herself in the crowds of bathers and sunbakers who didn’t recognise her in her tracksuit and T-shirt and trainers with her hair stuffed underneath a baseball cap. She looked just like any other sporty girl out for a brisk walk along the seashore. She could have gone to one of the more private beaches on the island but she liked being amongst the people, pretending she was normal, getting a feel for how different her life would have been if she had been born a commoner. No pressure to look perfect. No one commenting on her expression or outfit. No one befriending her just because she was royal and not because of who she was inside.
Lottie was walking past the bar area at the main tourist area when she caught sight of a lean and toned male body stretched lazily out on one of the sun lounges. The glisten of sun lotion on his skin made his body look like that of a bronzed god who had just stepped off a plinth at the National Art Gallery. His abdominal muscles were like tightly rolled bands of steel, his long muscled legs with their covering of coarse hair were splayed, showing the proud heft of his masculinity beneath close-fitting black Lycra bathers. There was a colourful drink on a table by his side with one of those little paper umbrellas in it, and on the other side of him was a blonde bikini-clad girl with a tray of nibbles bending down to him with a come-and-get-me smile and a cleavage you could park a pushbike in.
Lottie blinked a couple of times. It couldn’t be. He was back in his room waiting for her to show up. She was teaching him a much-needed lesson. She was giving him a massive blow to his arrogant confidence. She was—
She frowned and peered a little more intently. Maybe it was his twin. They were identical so maybe Orsino Chatsfield had come to Preitalle and was sunning himself on the beach with blonde busty beauties waiting on him hand and foot. But then he reached for his phone as the girls screeched with excitement at the prospect of a ‘group photo.’
She ground her teeth to talcum powder.
It wasn’t his twin.
As if Lucca had sensed her looking at him he turned his dark head and smiled that gleamingly white smile. He even had the audacity to lift up his hand and give her a friendly come-and-join-me wave.
Maybe he didn’t recognise her, Lottie thought as she spun around and strode back the way she had come. Maybe he thought she was just another girl he could reel into his harem with the crook of his little finger. No one else had recognised her in this casual get-up. Why should he?
Her feet pounded the sand, faster and faster until she wasn’t walking any more but running, her breath tearing at her throat like fingernails.
She stopped at the lighthouse to check to see if he had followed her but there was no sign of him.
He was probably getting that stunning blonde to peel his grapes for him, while taking pictures of her doing so, which would no doubt end up on his Twitter feed.
Argh!
‘What have you got planned for my bachelorette party?’ Madeleine asked at breakfast the following morning.
‘Don’t worry. I’ve got it in hand.’
‘Have you consulted Lucca about it? I’m sure he’ll have some fun suggestions to make it an event to remember.’
Lottie scowled at her sister. ‘It’s my job as maid of honour to organise your hen party. I don’t need the input from some unscrupulous playboy whose idea of entertainment would no doubt include a male stripper jumping out of a cake or something.’
‘Sounds like fun.’ Madeleine grinned as she reached for the orange juice jug.
‘You can’t be serious!’ Lottie put down her cup of tea with a clatter against the saucer.
Her sister took the seat opposite and cradled her glass of juice in both of her perfectly manicured hands. ‘You’re