The Montoros Affair: The Princess and the Player / Maid for a Magnate / A Royal Temptation. Charlene Sands
strained toward her, muscles begging to be set free from the iron hold he had on them. “Are you trying to make me barmy?”
“Nope. Just looking for the best places for when it’s my turn with the grapes.”
“Oh, it’s totally your turn,” he countered. “This is your dinner, too, and you must be hungry.”
“At last.” She knelt, grabbed a grape and eyed his splayed body. “Hmm. Where to start? I know.”
She stuck the grape in her mouth and rolled it around with her tongue, her hot gaze on his erection. Somehow that was more arousing than if she’d actually tongued him. She caught the small globe in her front teeth and bent to run it over his torso, dipping into the valleys and peaks, her hair spreading out like a feathery torture device across his sensitive skin. When she accidentally—or maybe on purpose—dragged her hair over his erection, the light touch lit him up. Fire radiated from the juncture of his thighs outward and just as he was about to cup her head to guide her toward the prize, she leaned up on her haunches.
Plucking the grape from between her lips, she grazed his length with the wet grape, nearly causing him to spill everything in one pulse.
“Enough of that,” he growled, manacling her wrist to draw it away from the line of fire. “You’ve obviously underestimated my appetite. Time for the main course.”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never say that.”
Fumbling with a condom, he somehow managed to get it secured and then rolled her underneath him. He’d been fantasizing about taking her exactly this way for an eternity. Soft and luscious, she slid right into the curves of his body as she had that day in the sand, except this time, nothing separated their skin and it was every bit as glorious as he’d imagined.
“You—” He nearly swallowed his tongue as she shifted, rolling her hips against his. The tips of her breasts ground into his torso, and it all felt so amazing, he couldn’t speak.
And then he didn’t have to speak as he gazed down into her blue eyes. Candlelight danced in their depths and he caught a hint of something else that hit him in the gut. As if she’d seen pieces of him that he’d never realized were there and she liked what she’d found. As if she truly saw him as a hero. Maybe she was the only one who could relate. They were both rebels—to the rest of the world—but his pain and difficulties behind the rebellion made total sense to her.
“Bella,” he murmured and that was the extent of what he could push through his tight throat.
“Right here.” Her low, husky voice became his favorite part of her as it hummed through him. “I was really afraid this would never happen. Make it worth the wait.”
It was already so worth it. Worth the lectures from his father, worth the uncomfortable nobleness he’d somehow adopted when around her. Worth sending her away from him on the terrace when all he’d wanted to do was pull that outrageous red dress up to her waist and make her his under the moonlight.
This way was better. Much better. No fear of being caught. No loaded landmines surrounding them, no paparazzi lying in wait to cause a scandal just because they wanted to be together.
He laid his lips on hers and fell into a long sigh of a kiss that grew urgent as she opened her mouth and dove in with her tongue, heightening the pleasure.
And then with a small shift, they joined. Easily, beautifully, as if she’d been specially crafted for James Rowling. It was almost spiritual and he’d never felt such a weight to being with a woman.
He froze for a moment, just letting her essence bleed through him, and then, determined to get her to the same place of mystical pleasure, he focused on her cries, her shifts, her rhythms. He became an instant student of Bella’s pleasure until he could anticipate exactly what she wanted him to do next to drive her to release.
And then she stiffened as a volatile climax engulfed her that he felt all the way to his soles. He let go and followed her into oblivion, holding her tight because he couldn’t stand to lose contact with her.
As he regained cognizance, he realized she was trying to get closer, too. He settled Bella comfortably in his arms and lay with her to watch the candle flames flicker, throwing shadows of the heavy furniture on the walls of the farmhouse they’d turned into the safest of havens.
This time with Bella...it was the most romantic experience he’d ever had, which sat strangely. For a guy who loved sex and abhorred roots, romance was difficult to come by. Not only had he never had it, he’d never sought it.
Why did something as normal as sex feel so abnormally and hugely different with this woman? He couldn’t make sense of it and it bothered him. As the unsettled feeling grew, he kissed Bella’s forehead and separated from her.
Bustling around to gather up their abandoned wine glasses and remnants of their dinner, he threw a forced smile over his shoulder. “Ready to finish eating?”
She returned the smile, not seeming to realize that he was trying to mask his sudden confusion. “Depends. Is that code for round two? Because the answer is yes, if so.”
Round two. He chugged some wine to give himself a second. Normally, he went for round two like a sailor on shore leave, but the thick, romantic atmosphere and the crushing sensation in his chest when he looked at Bella made him question everything.
What was going on here? This was supposed to be nothing but an opportunity to have fun with Bella, no expectations, no proposals before her brother took the throne.
“No code. Let’s eat.”
What was his problem? A beautiful woman who rocked his world wanted him to make love to her again. Maybe he should just do that, and everything would make sense once they were back to just two people having smashing sex. Will’s bet had hashed everything.
“For now,” he amended. “Got to keep up our strength.”
She grinned and shoved some crackers in her mouth. “All done,” she mumbled around the crackers.
Groaning around a laugh, he sat close to her on the blanket and shook off his strange mood. After all, she was Alma’s only princess. What role did a disgraced football player have in the middle of all that? Especially when he didn’t plan to be living in Alma permanently. In fact, a new contract would get him out from under all of this confusion quite well. He could enjoy a fling with Bella and jet off to another continent. Like always.
Obviously, there was no reason to give any more credence to the heavy weight in his chest.
* * *
There was a huge crick in Bella’s neck, but she actually welcomed the pain. Because she’d gotten it sleeping in James’s arms on a blanket spread over a hardwood floor.
That had been delicious. And wonderful. And a host of other things she could barely articulate. So she didn’t, opting to see what the morning brought in this unconventional affair they’d begun.
Once they were dressed and had the curtains thrown open to let sunlight into the musty great room, she turned to James. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heavily in favor of finding a café that’ll give you a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits in a takeout box. I’m starving.”
He flashed a quick grin. “Careful. That kind of comment now has all sorts of meaning attached. You better clarify whether you want me to feed you or strip you.”
Laughing, she socked him on the arm. “You’re the one who started that with the grapes. And the answer to that is both. Always.”
He caught her hand and held it in his. “I’m only teasing. I’ll go get breakfast. I wish you could come with me. Is it too much to ask that we go on a real date where I sit with you at an actual table?”
“We’ll get there.” She kissed him soundly and shoved him toward the door. “Once I have food in me, we can strategize about the rest of our lives.”
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