Page 40 of Royally Roma
“You have a rather active imagination,” she protested. But her voice was far too breathless. And to her horror, she realized she was indeed arching toward him, pressing her breasts against his chest, seeking contact, his touch, anything to relieve the ache.
She was on the verge of coming apart, fully clothed, with a stranger in her humble kitchen. A deceitful, lying stranger. Would sheeverlearn her lesson?
He drew closer until his mouth was a whisper away from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the promise of relief in his salty sigh. She thought she might die if he waited another second to kiss her. Her lips parted in hungry anticipation, but instead of claiming her mouth, he lowered his head and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of her neck.
She lifted trembling hands and slid them into his hair, holding him close. Holding on for dear life.
“You say I have a rather active imagination. You have no idea, darling,” he whispered against her skin. “Shall I tell you about the things I imagine, Julia?”
“No,” she breathed. She didn’t want words. She didn’t want pictures. She wanted more. So much more. “Don’t tell me. Show me.”
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Show me.
Niccolo had been doing his level best to hold on to his last remaining shred of self-control. It had taken a king-sized effort not to kiss her again, even when she’d been throwing things at him. Especially then, actually. He liked her passion. He liked the way she wasn’t afraid to stand up to him and tell him how she really felt. Even when those feelings weren’t necessarily pleasant.
But when she uttered those two fatal words—show me—restraint was no longer an option. He was done for. A dead man. And he would have given up his entire island kingdom if it meant kissing Julia Costa once more.
Just once.
As a prince, he wasn’t a man accustomed to wanting. Or waiting.
Whatever he needed, whatever he desired, was his. Without delay. This ceaseless yearning that had been gnawing at him for the past twelve hours was altogether foreign. It didn’t suit him. So once he finally allowed himself to succumb to it, he had to force himself to slow down and draw out the pleasure. To savor.
He kissed his way up the graceful path of her neck, his lips hot and wanting against her precious porcelain skin.
“Julia, my God,” he groaned in a voice he’d never heard himself use before.
But nothing about this encounter was in any way ordinary, was it? Nothing aboutherwas ordinary.
Things had gone too far. Too fast. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this was where things had to end.
When at last his mouth was poised over hers, he paused for one last glance at the fire in her eyes. He wanted to remember that look. The way she burned. And her pleading expression that told him how much she wanted him. Not his position, not his crown, nor his throne. Him.
She wanted him.
It might have been wrong not to tell her who he was, but in that moment, Niccolo wouldn’t have had it any other way. He would have abdicated before he told her the truth.
Not now. Anytime but now.
He grazed her lips with his, then his tongue slid into her mouth, that sweet candy mouth that was sure to haunt him at the coming sunrise. And for days, weeks, and possibly months to come.
He didn’t need a clairvoyant to tell him that this little holiday he’d embarked on would leave a mark. A slow-healing bruise that would leave him tortured and tender. In those melancholy moments, he would need these memories. Recollections of her lips, her smile, the grace with which she moved. Remembrance.
“Look at me,” he breathed, dragging his lips from hers.
Show me.
Niccolo’s pulse throbbed. The wait was excruciating. She had no idea, did she? No notion of the effect that her downcast eyes and bashful smile were having.
At last her gaze met his. Looking into those soft brown eyes was like getting lost in the woods, something Niccolo had never been allowed to do as a child. She was a work of art. A masterpiece. He’d never seen anyone so lovely. Skin like parchment, watercolor shadows, and a blush the color of rose petals. She took his breath away.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered.
He was no longer a prince. For once in his life, he was just a man. Just a man who wanted a woman, wanted to do as she’d asked. He wanted to show her—show her how desirable she was, show her pleasure like she’d never known. He wanted to take her beyond dreams, beyond imagination, to a place where they belonged together.
