Page 33 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

Why had she let it go this far?

She wanted to believe theirs was nothing more than a strong physical connection—as he did—and perhaps the culmination of denying this aspect of her life for far too long. But her heart continued to do somersaults in her chest, and she knew she felt something for him, something she had never felt for another man, or she would never have let him dismantle her defences so thoroughly.

‘I... I need to go to bed,’ she said, frantic now, as well as scared. ‘We have a long day tomorrow.’

One dark eyebrow hiked up his forehead. ‘For real?’

‘I’m sorry.’ She eased past him, the fear rioting now, the feel of those strong fingers on her, inside her, still humming in her sex. ‘I can’t...’

She glanced down, aware of the thick erection straining against the front of his shorts, the outline making the throbbing in her sex worse.

‘I’m not on any birth control...’ she lied, grasping at a way to extricate herself with some degree of dignity. And poise. And conceal from him how utterly he’d overwhelmed her.

‘I’ve got condoms,’ he offered.

‘But I can’t risk...’ she began.

‘It’s okay, Belle, we can always take a rain check,’ he said, the passion clearing from his eyes to be replaced by—well, nothing. She couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or not. ‘This isn’t a transaction,’ he murmured, his expression shuttered and unreadable.

Was he angry? Could he sense her distress?

‘Thank you, for being so understanding,’ she said, in a desperate attempt to distance herself again. But what else could she do? She’d let him see too much.

He’d given her something incredible, something she hadn’t really believed existed until this moment. But beneath the woman he had awakened was that little girl who could be hurt far too easily—if she let herself want too much.

She needed time to rebuild her defences. And to close down the aching vulnerability in her heart, which he would never understand.

‘Right,’ he said, the slight edge in his voice making her feel ashamed once again of her cowardice.

She dashed from the bathroom and locked the connecting door.

It took her hours to finally fall asleep, though, her body still humming from his caresses—as she listened to him showering and imagined him naked and aroused.

By the time she finally fell into a fitful sleep, she had examined and discarded every possible outcome of her foolish decision to become intimate with her fake husband...

And every one of them was a disaster, starting with how on earth she was going to survive ten nights in his home in Colorado with her dignity and her sense of self intact. Because he had a power over her now that wasn’t equal, or equitable. And she had already committed much more to this relationship than she could possibly afford to lose.

CHAPTER TEN

‘YOURMAJESTY,LOOKthis way! Can we see your smile? Are you looking forward to your first Christmas as a married woman?’

‘Travis, what’s it like to be a member of European royalty?’

‘How is your first day of married life going, Your Majesty?’

Travis wrapped his arm around Isabelle’s waist, tugging her closer, as the reporters and photographers fired questions, and the barrage of camera flashes blinded them both. They were supposed to be putting on a show here, for the world’s media. A show he hadn’t wanted any part of and wanted even less part of after the way last night had ended. Because touching her now—after watching her lose herself in his arms, then close herself off—was torture.

His frustration built, though, when she stiffened against him.

He tightened his hold on her. ‘Relax,’ he whispered in her ear as they stood together on the tarmac at the palace’s private airfield, his company jet fuelled and ready to take them away from this circus.

Last night had knocked him sideways. He’d never experienced foreplay like it before. She’d been so vibrant and responsive to his touch, despite the weird innocence that clung to her.

For a moment, as she’d writhed and groaned, her body flushed with pleasure, her inhibitions gone, he’d felt as if he’d achieved something rare and special—which was sentimental crap, of course, but, even so, his ego had taken a hit when he’d heard the door lock click.

He’d had to turn the shower temperature down to frigid—and take himself in hand like a teenager, which had been humiliating. But it wasn’t sexual frustration that had made it impossible for him to sleep afterwards.

He hadn’t lied to her. As far as he was concerned, sex was never a transaction. It was always a woman’s prerogative to say no. And he guessed the birth control thing was an issue—he certainly didn’t want to add any more complications to this relationship when it was already complicated enough. But he’d seen the lie in her eyes when she’d offered up that excuse. And the panic and regret as soon as the afterglow had faded. Which had forced him to ask the question, why had she freaked out?

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