Page 12 of Incognito

“Thanks, hurry,” He hung up, leaving her staring at the phone.

“Drama prince,” she muttered, pulling on underwear, sweatpants, and a hoodie in record time, slipping her feet into flip-flops and keys into her pocket.

She pulled her hair into a dripping ponytail as she rode the lift down to the ground floor, and made it out the door and to the front of the hotel with thirty seconds to spare, in time to see Dante strolling towards her as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“So where’s the fire?” She asked, a second before he enfolded her in his arms and planted his lips on hers.

Stunned, she froze.

However, as his warm, firm lips plied her with a skill she’d expect from a guy like him, her initial reaction—that he’d lost his mind—gave way to awe as she melted under an onslaught of heat.

Burning, scorching, intense heat, that streaked through her body and consumed her from the inside out, the kind of heat that could make a girl lose her mind and do something completely out of character, like kiss him back.

Before she could reassemble her befuddled wits, he broke the kiss, and murmured, “Sorry, please go along with me for now.”

He didn’t leave her much choice as he resumed kissing her, his arms sliding around her waist and feeling way too good, his chest pressed against hers as one of his hands strummed her back like a virtuoso.

Natasha prided herself on her logic. A thinker who weighed options carefully, she always chose the right path.

So what the hell was she doing, responding to the prince’s passion, the heat crackling between them turning to bone-melting sizzle, enjoying this kiss more than she could’ve dreamed possible?

Someone moaned—to her endless embarrassment, she had a sneaking suspicion it must be her—and she clung to him, belatedly realising that his rock-hard chest felt as good as it looked beneath her splayed palms.

Her senses reeled as he deepened the kiss to the point she forgot who she was, where she was, and all the reasons she shouldn’t be doing this.

“Natasha? What the hell?”

Revulsion made her gut churn as she recognised the voice.

Her shocked gaze swung between Dante, the prince who’d lost his mind and kissed her senseless, and Clay, the man she’d once loved and now despised.

7

“What are you doing here?”

Natasha glared at Clay, hating the perfection of his smooth blond hair artfully gelled, the supercilious sneer, the cocky squared shoulders ready for battle.

She loathed him.

She hated him.

Yet she’d once loved him with all her heart.

Thank goodness she had a wake up call before she made the biggest mistake of her life.

Being engaged to the cocky jerk had ruined her family. She shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d gone all the way and walked up the aisle.

Sadly, she already knew.

The scumbag had told her in great detail, when she’d broken off their engagement after learning the truth about why a suave entrepreneur would be interested in marrying a hospitality worker.

“I guess there’s no need to ask what you’re doing.” Clay sneered. “It’s obvious you’ve taken up sport since we parted.” His glare made her feel like she’d been doused in slime. “Tonsil hockey.”

“Leave the lady alone,” Dante said, his voice low with menace, a protective arm still wrapped around her waist, and Natasha instinctively snuggled deeper before realising she shouldn’t.

But she didn’t want to move. Having Dante’s arm supporting her felt good in the face of Clay’s derision.

Clay’s withering gaze turned on Dante. “And I must’ve been mistaken about you. I thought you were the Prince of Calida back there, but guess I was wrong.”

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