The instant their lips touched, fire flared between them once more. He broke away, breathing hard, cursing his lack of willpower. She whimpered, and his body surged against her. She felt it, too, the infinitesimal change in his body as he fought to keep his raging arousal under control.
“What is it about you?” he growled, unable to make himself push her away. “Why are you doing this?”
With heavy-lidded eyes she looked up at him, her expression serious. He saw no hint of a tease or the simpering coquettishness he’d come to associate with the women who followed the royals, wanting sex. Rather, as she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked as troubled as he felt.
Around them, the sound of surf pounding the rocks blended with his heartbeat.
Finally, she spoke. “I want you,” she said. “But before I do, there’s something you need to understand.”
When he would have moved toward her, she held up her hand. “Reginald was my first.”
Uncomprehending, he stared. “What?”
“I was a virgin before him. I’ve never been with anyone else. I thought he loved me, but he didn’t. Now I’m pregnant.”
Something inside him splintered. At her words he felt the rage leave him, an icy chill spreading through him instead. What he knew of Reginald’s depravations could fill a book. For her first experience at lovemaking to have been at the hands of that…
Even for Reginald, this was a new low. Seduce a virgin, an illegitimate princess, impregnate her, then dump her to go off and marry a legitimate one. Though she gave no signs of knowing it, Sydney Conner was the most sexy, desirable woman Chase had ever met.
The possibility that she might be lying didn’t make him feel any better.
“Sydney, I—” Oddly enough, her innocence only made him want her more.
He started toward her.
“Wait.” She held up a hand, her delicate features remote. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sorry for me. Actually, I’m not sure why I told you at all.”
“I’m glad you did.” He touched her shoulder and she looked up at him, her eyes full of unshed tears. All his resolve flew out the window. “I want you, Sydney. How I want you.”
Her expression softened and she held out her arms. “Then make love to me, Chase. Erase what he did to me from my memory. Make love to me.”
Make love to me. He groaned. Despite his longing and the red-hot fantasies which haunted him, Chase knew he should back away.
Instead, he pulled her into his arms, slanting his mouth across hers. She met him halfway. He touched her, letting his hands roam over her curves freely, as he’d been aching to do. Her answering cry was a heady invitation.
Squirming against him, each movement acerbated the fierceness of his arousal, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of his ragged control.
“Chase,” she spoke his name in a broken murmur, her lips against his throat. She trailed kisses there, making him shudder.
She didn’t protest when he pulled off her blouse, nor when his fingers fumbled with the clasp of her bra. Then, when her breasts were free, he cupped them in his hands and suckled her, rolling each rosy nipple between his lips.
Arching her back, she moaned. Together, they sank to the ground. She found the waistband of his shorts and pulled the snap apart, finding him hard and swollen and spilling from his undershorts.
When she wrapped her hand around him and stroked, the movement brought pleasure and agony.
“Stop,” he ground out. “You’ll have me losing control too soon, too fast.”
He pushed her back onto the sand, throbbing, hard, ready. With his finger he entered her, finding her wet and tight. She groaned. He readied himself between her legs, about to push into her, when a roaring sound filled the air.
“Chase?” She raised her head, a look of horror filling her face as she came to the same realization as he did.
Listening, he lifted himself up and cursed. “That’s a chopper, landing on the beach. We need to hide until we know who it is.”
In one swift motion he rolled off her, yanking up his shorts and helping her up and into her bra and T-shirt. “We’re either about to be rescued or attacked.”
Chapter 7
Together, they watched the chopper land on the rocky beach near where they’d buried the pig carcass. Before the whirring blades had even slowed, a tall, dark-haired man climbed out, followed by two others. Not only did the chopper look military, but the men appeared dangerous. All wore sunglasses, and she could see they were all armed with pistols. All of them were large men with the build of bodyguards.
“They look like bad guys.” Sydney turned to Chase, still trying to adjust her clothing.
“Nope, they’re not. We’re in luck,” Chase said, relief lightening the harshness in his eyes. “Those are my men, they work for me.”
“Hell of a PR department you’ve got going.” She eyed the weapons glinting in the sunlight. “Do you guys double as covert ops or something?”
Immediately, his expression shut down. “What we do—or don’t do—in Silvershire has nothing to do with Naessa.”
Once again, he reminded her she was an outsider.
“I understand.” She matched his cool tone.
His gaze locked with hers. Another time, she might have found it amusing that Chase looked away first. Now, she felt only an awful ache spreading inside her heart. Despite that, when he held out his hand, she took it.
Fingers laced together, they ran across the sand, Chase shouting out one of the other men’s names as they ran.
Twenty minutes later, the pilot put the chopper down at a place she didn’t recognize.
The airstrip appeared to be private, with the helicopter’s landing pad clearly marked.
Chase stayed by Sydney’s side, helping her climb out from the chopper. A white Hummer limousine waited. With the other men leading the way, they bypassed this, heading for a small, unimpressive brick building. Inside, they stepped into an empty room furnished only with a single desk and a folding metal chair. A door marked Women was at one end; Men was at the other.
“Here you’ll find showers and all the necessities, as well as some new clothing.” The husky man Chase had introduced as William pointed to two suitcases. One, a small Gucci looked familiar, her favorite traveling bag.
“That’s mine,” she said. “Where did you get that?”
“Before his death, Prince Reginald had given us all the things you’d left at his flat, asking that we return them to you.”
“Us?”
William looked at Chase. Gaze locked on Sydney, Chase nodded slowly. “Go ahead.”
William flashed her an impersonal smile. “The royal public relations department. Us. We took the liberty of bringing your clothing, as well as of purchasing a few new items for your stay.”
Alarm bells went off. “Stay?”
This time they all looked at Chase. He murmured, “Why don’t you get cleaned up, then we’ll talk.”
Talk? About what? “I need to see a doctor before I do anything,” she insisted.
Expressionless, he surveyed her. “Clean up first. Then we’ll take you to a specialist for a thorough examination.”
“But—”