Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
‘As you can see—’ she interrupted his derailed thoughts with a voice slathered in sarcasm ‘—I’m perfectly fine. So you don’t need to worry. You can leave now.’
His gaze shot back to hers and his face heated. So caught. But she thought she could order him out...?
Eduardo was used to getting his own way. And he’d get it this time, because he was sure she was feeling this too. On an angry, lust-driven impulse he slowly, deliberately lowered his gaze again, blistering his senses, blatantly looking his fill at her jaw-droppingly gorgeous body.
He watched a trickle of water run from her hair to her skin, down the crest of her breast to her nipple, forming a drop there. His mouth was dry as dust and he craved a lick. Just one. Just one kiss.
His erection strained against his zipper. Lust clamoured a shrill mantra—kiss, kiss, kiss...
She quivered, the merest movement, as he ate her with his eyes, but she remained silent. Defiantly holding her head high.
Along with lust and need, another emotion snaked out from his gut—admiration. Then respect. And then regret.
What was he doing, standing over her like this? Invading her personal space? She was in the shower, for heaven’s sake.
She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, let her nudity be a vulnerability. She was all armour. Even when naked she was stiffened with pride and rebellion and courage.
He wanted her. But more than that he wanted her to come to him—as willing and as tempting as she’d been that day on the beach.
‘Why did you run away afterwards?’ Why hadn’t she come to him to tell him she was pregnant?
Her lips parted, her mouth forming a wordless ‘oh’ while her anger burned brighter, melting into something else. But still she gave no damn answer.
That old disappointment was like salt in a freshly opened wound. But he didn’t move—he’d never been so focused on a woman, never spent so much effort trying to read what he could from the few physical signs she couldn’t help giving away.
Her hands were fisted at her sides. She was expending a lot of energy so as not to move. Just as he was. What didn’t she want to let herself do? Was she, like he, fighting the urge to reach out and touch? Or did she really want to fight, then flee?
On paper she appeared the perfect obedient soldier. Until that afternoon with him she’d not put a foot wrong—never left base without authorisation, never fraternised. No boyfriend. No parties. No fun.
She’d never had sex before either. Which he guessed meant she was not a natural hedonist. Sure, she’d gone full throttle once she’d let herself off the leash, but maybe the intensity had been too much for her?
It almost had been for him. Goosebumps still riddled his skin when he thought of it, and he was used to sex. She wasn’t. Had she been shaken emotionally? Had he hurt her that way? Was she afraid of him?
Suddenly he didn’t want to know any more. He wasn’t a man who could offer emotional support. He’d tried. He’d failed. More than once.
Stella wasn’t the first person not to turn to him in a time of crisis.
‘Eat the food I have brought,’ he growled, pushing away from the shower wall and forcing himself to step away from her.
He ignored the thunderclap of fury from the lust clouding his mind, urging him to stay and press closer. He wanted to make her feel so damn good she wouldn’t be able to stop pleading with him to do it again. But he was going to have to wait a bit longer for that little ego trip. Just till tomorrow.
‘Make yourself presentable,’ he said curtly, picking up one of the large white towels from the gleaming gold rail. ‘I will see you in the library.’
She snatched the towel he rigidly held out and wrapped it around her, hiding her delectable body from his ravenous eyes, leaving him immensely relieved. And viciously frustrated.
Angered with his fixation, he strode away. ‘Be quick.’
STELLA FELT LIKE taking at least two hours, except years of drills and discipline overruled the petty desire to prove a point. She glanced at the treat-laden tray he’d carried to her room but her stomach was too knotted for her to attempt eating. She opened the door to the walk-in wardrobe and stared. Tags still hung on some items, and they were the right sizes and everything. Did he know her every personal detail? Damn army records.
Well, she wasn’t wearing anything he provided. She had pride.
She dressed in less than five minutes, dragging on her jeans again, pulling out a different tee shirt from further down her duffel bag. Then she laced up her trainers. She didn’t care what his idea of ‘presentable’ was.
But adrenalin scoured her veins. Her body knew she was in danger. Because what she’d forgotten—what she’d refused to admit aloud—was his impact.
That he could have her forgetting all her hard-earned rights in a heartbeat. She’d wanted to lean back against the wall and let him do whatever he pleased with her. She’d wanted him to be as naked as she. All he had to do was look and in seconds she’d been aching for his touch...
She’d been around hundreds of men all her life. Men more muscled. Men taller, broader, faster. Never had she been tempted the way that Eduardo tempted her.
Her weakness infuriated her. Could she really be this shallow? Could her head be so turned just because he was a prince? But she didn’t feel this for Crown Prince Antonio, and wasn’t he the more powerful of the two? No, it was only Eduardo and his irresistible smile, who devastated her.
How quickly she’d fallen under his spell. How easily he’d seduced her. And he could do it again in seconds. He almost had in that hot shower stall. And she couldn’t let him. Not now there was so much more at stake. She had to keep her head and carve out the right solution for this situation.
A wedding wasn’t it.
She dropped to the floor and executed twenty press-ups just to expend some of the energy rioting within her. He’d wanted to know why she’d done it, but she could never admit that she’d long harboured a crush on him, or that he’d represented the kind of free-loving fun she’d never had. She’d wanted one moment just for herself.
She wasn’t admitting that dreary little dream to him.
Quickly, quietly, she walked back to the opulent library.
As she neared the large doorway she moved more stealthily. Maybe she’d hear something interesting—
‘Come in, Stella.’
Grimacing, she moved into the doorway and found him just inside it. His gaze skittered down her clothing. The skin about his mouth and eyes tightened. Yeah, not exactly ‘presentable’.
But he’d changed too—black jeans again, white tee. Designer casual as opposed to her dumpster casual. Still gorgeous. Still intimidating.
She wished she had her boots on. Even an extra inch would give her a much needed boost. Then she saw the serious-looking man in a suit seated at the table, with serious-looking papers spread out before him.
‘Take a seat, Stella,’ Eduardo instructed.
‘I prefer to stand,’ she answered, glancing to where the Prince had paused at two seats on the opposite side of the table from the suited dude. She wasn’t letting him dictate her every move. ‘Always.’
‘Okay,’ he agreed, but something kindled in his eyes. ‘But it is important that you pay attention to what Matteo tells you.’
‘Why?