Page 31 of The King's Secret Baby

He freezes when he sees me, his eyes widening in surprise. “Hailey. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“That makes two of us,” I manage, acutely aware of how little I’m wearing. The cobalt bikini seemed like a good idea in the privacy of my room, but now, with Luca’s heated gaze roaming over me, I feel utterly exposed.

He sets his towel down, his movements precise and controlled. The black swim trunks slung low on his hips leave little to the imagination — not that I have to imagine anyway, since I’ve seen the whole shebang — and I have to force my eyes away from the cut of his abs, the V of his hips disappearing beneath the waistband.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says quietly, stepping to the edge of the pool. “I thought a swim might help clear my head.”

“That makes two of us,” I echo.

He dives in with the sleek grace of an Olympic swimmer, barely making a ripple. When he surfaces a few feet from me, rivulets of water sluice down the planes of his face, dripping off the sharp cut of his jaw.

For a long, charged moment, we simply stare at each other, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. The air feels heavy, weighted with unspoken words and barely restrained desire.

I’m not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between us vanishes. His hands find my waist beneath the water as mine slide up the slick muscles of his chest to twine around his neck.

Our faces drift closer, lips a scant inch apart, sharing the same shaky breath. Every nerve in my body is alight, yearning to close that last little distance.

But we hover there, suspended in that aching, anticipatory moment, both of us wrestling with the warring tides of longing and restraint.

His nose brushes mine as he angles his head, our mouths now a mere whisper apart. I can almost taste him on my tongue, feel the heat of his lips against my own.

“Hailey,” he breathes, and my name in his accented rasp sends a shiver racing down my spine. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know,” I manage, the words strangled. My fingers tighten reflexively against his nape. “The photo… If anyone saw us like this…”

He exhales a shuddering sigh that fans across my cheek. “It would be a scandal. The press would have a field day.”

I swallow hard, trying to compose myself, to remember all the reasons why this can’t happen. “Your reputation… the throne… We agreed to stay professional.”

“We did,” he acknowledges, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his hands flex against my hips, tugging me infinitesimally closer. “But God, Hailey… I want…”

The raw need in his voice obliterates the last of my wavering control. Heat sizzles through my veins, molten and demanding.

Before I can move, though, he pulls away, his hands leaving my body. Water splashes between us, and my jaw drops.

“The photo…” He looks away.

My face heats. Of course. What was I thinking?

Say we did give in to our desires — then what? He would keep me secret from everyone? Is that what I want to be, Prince Luca’s dirty little mistress?

Or, just as bad, his distraction?

“You’re right.” I swim to the edge of the pool and pull myself out.

Water drips from my body, pooling around my feet. The air feels colder than before, a stark contrast against my heated skin.

Silently, I usher myself towards my discarded towel. The fabric is rough against my damp skin but the process of drying off gives me something to focus on, a momentary escape from the weight of what almost happened.

Luca climbs out of the pool after me, keeping a healthy distance between us. He scrubs a hand across his face, and I avoid watching the droplets of water skitter down his chest.

He clears his throat, “Hailey?—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off, wrapping the towel securely around my waist.

My voice sounds harsher than I intended and I see him flinch. His gaze drops to the tiles beneath us, and I hate how even now he looks so damn good bathed in the moonlight.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a beat. “I didn’t mean to — it shouldn’t have happened.”

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