A hot curl of desire started in her belly and spiraled outward in a thrilling rush. Into her arms and legs, her fingers and toes, and some very interesting and wicked places in between.
Every scent and sound and sensation seemed to jumble together, making her feel dizzy and confused. There was an incredible energy building between them. She could feel his breath deepen, his pulse quicken to keep time with her own frantically beating heart.
It was frightening and exciting and arousing all at the same time. And though she knew it was wrong, it felt too good to stop.
Phillip moved his head and Hannah felt the scrape of his beard stubble against her cheek. The warm rush of his breath on her ear. Pull away, her conscience warned. You do not want to do this.
Oh yes, I do, answered back the part of her that had been looking forward to this for the past eight years.
His lips were so close. So near she could almost taste them. He moved his head, nuzzled her cheek lightly, and everything inside her melted to hot liquid. If she hadn’t already been sitting, her legs surely would have buckled out from under her.
Anticipation buzzed between them like an electric, live wire. He turned just a little and she felt his lips…on her cheek, at the corner of her mouth….
His mouth brushed hers and though she was expecting it, longing for it even, it still surprised her. And scared her half to death. It felt too wonderful, and she had come too far, saved herself for too long, to turn back now.
Gathering up the absolute last shred of restraint left in her, she turned and rested her head on his shoulder. “You promised me that you would keep your hands to yourself.”
His voice sounded rough when he spoke. “That’s not exactly fair, considering you started it.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She had literally thrown herself at him. The only person to blame here was herself. “You’re right. But we have to stop.”
“No, we don’t.” His hands slid from her hips to the indent of her waist. He nuzzled the tender spot just below her ear and she shivered. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want this as much as I do.”
Of course she did, maybe even more, but that wasn’t the point. She dropped her arms from around his neck and flattened her palms on his chest. “As you get to know me, you’ll find I have this annoying habit of doing things by the book. And we’re not married yet.”
“No one will know.”
“I’ll know.”
He sighed, a long, tired sound tinged with frustration. Then lifted her up, as though she weighed nothing, and deposited her back on the couch.
Since she didn’t trust herself and she clearly couldn’t rely on him to apply the brakes, from now on there would be no more temptation. That meant no kissing or touching of any kind until after the wedding. “We’ve waited this long. Two more weeks aren’t going to kill us.”
He pulled himself to his feet. “Speak for yourself.”
She diverted her gaze, finding that it both embarrassed her and gave her a depraved thrill to know that touching her had aroused him. “Are you angry with me?”
The hard lines of his face softened. “Of course not. If more people honored their values the way you do, the world would be a much better place.”
Of all the things he could have possibly said to her, that had to have been the sweetest. And he said it so honestly, as though he really meant it. Maybe he wasn’t so tough as he liked people to think.
“I should go,” he said. “You’ve had a long day.”
“I am exhausted,” she admitted. With the time change and the long trip, she had been up for more than twenty-four hours straight.
“There’s a directory by the phone if you should need anything.” He grabbed his jacket from the chair and walked to the door.
She followed, several steps behind. “Thank you.”
He stopped, hand on the doorknob, and turned to her. “For what?”
She shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She was twenty-four years old and still so terribly naive about certain things. But anxious to learn. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulled the door open, then hesitated. “By the way, where do you keep your lipstick?”
“Lipstick?”
“You carried no handbag, yet you’ve freshened your lipstick numerous times throughout the course of the day. I was just wondering where you were hiding it.”
It was funny that he had even noticed. Although, she had the sneaking suspicion there wasn’t much that the king missed.
She smiled. “A proper lady, Your Highness, never tells.”
“I had a feeling you would say that.” With a shake of his head, he stepped into the hall, then turned back one last time. “I should warn you, my lady, that I am used to getting what I want when I want it. Though we may not officially consummate this relationship until after the wedding.” His mouth curled into a hungry, feral smile. “I can’t promise that in the meantime there won’t be a bit of fooling around.”
At first she thought he was only teasing her again, but she could see, by the look in his eyes, that he was dead serious.
She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. What could she possibly say? It occurred to her, not for the first time that day, that she was way out of her league.
He flashed her the smile of a man who knew he had just hit his mark. “Good night, Hannah. Sleep well.”
The door snapped shut quietly behind him, and she didn’t doubt for an instant that he would make good on his threat.
And damned if she barely slept a wink all night.
Four
Hannah was awake, showered and dressed when Miss Pryce knocked on the door to her suite the next morning at 9:00 a.m. on the dot. Beating down a monster case of jet lag, Hannah opened the door and invited her in.
“Good morning, my lady.” She curtsied, quite an impressive feat considering her arms were stacked with file folders and binders. “I have the information you requested.”
“My gosh, someone must have been up all night compiling this.” She shuddered to think of all the reading she had ahead of her. She would have to call down for a second pot of coffee. But with any luck, the mystery woman from yesterday would be among the pages and Hannah might learn her identity. And maybe have some clue as to why she’d watched Hannah so intently.
“Would you like it in your office?” Miss Pryce asked.
She hated being cooped up in an office. “Why don’t you set it down on the table by the sofa.”
She did as requested then stood stiffly, clutching the leather binder she’d had with her last night. The dreaded schedule.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee, Miss Pryce?”
“No, thank you.”
“I could call down for tea.”
She didn’t even crack a smile. “I’m fine, thank you.”
How about a valium, or shot of whiskey? Hannah thought. She wondered if everyone around here was always this formal. If so, it was going to take some serious getting used to. For them, that is. Hannah’s staff at home had always been more like an extension of the family than actual employees.
Being royalty didn’t mean she had to be a cold fish.
“Do you have a first name, Miss Pryce?”
She