Page 36 of Royal Player
We stay like that for a few moments, hugging. Slowly, I become aware of the heat radiating between us, the hard feel of him pressed against my softness.
I lift my head, and our gazes lock in an electric moment. My breath stutters out at the raw desire in his eyes. His gaze drops to my mouth, and my lips part, my breath coming harder.
His lips meet mine in a fierce kiss that shocks my system. My stomach drops, blood rushing through my veins. I never knew a kiss could feel like this—electrifying. His fingers shift to the side of my neck, curling behind my jaw to the sensitive skin under my ear. I can’t seem to stop kissing him, wanting more and more and more. He takes control, deepening the kiss. I go damp between the legs, a low ache in my belly that’s foreign to me. This is what passion feels like—urgent, hot, needy. I’ve never felt like this in my life.
He breaks the kiss and sets me away from him abruptly. My head spins for a moment, all of me aching and tingling.
I reach for him, and he pulls away, running both hands through his hair. “Fuck,” he mutters.
I put my fingers to my still-tingling lips.
His voice is hoarse. “That never happened.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re you, the queen. The virgin princess.” He looks around wildly, like he forgot something here; then he pats his pockets and bolts toward the door.
He stops and turns. “Stay away from Charles.”
“Okay.” My voice comes out soft. “Will you kiss me again, please? I need it more than my next breath.”
He groans and takes a step back.
“Oscar.”
He gazes at me for one long moment, searching my features. I can see the indecision in his eyes. He wants to stay, but he’s conflicted. I think he’s protecting me from himself. It only makes me want him more.
He shakes his head, turns, and walks out the door.
I stare at the door for a full minute. No wonder I’ve never been tempted by a man before. I’ve never felt passion. It’s shockingly intense. Even now, I’m still hot and achy, my limbs heavy. I want his weight against me, want to feel skin on skin. These are things I’ve never wanted in my life.
He accepted my shameful, horrendous situation without judgment. Phenomenal. I really, really like this man. I’m not sure what to do about it, but my instincts tell me to stick close. Or maybe that’s my raging lust. Either way, I’m not done with Oscar.
Chapter Nine
Oscar
I screwed up. I shouldn’t have kissed her. What the hell was I thinking? She needs to get married fastandwe have a business partnership. I want to help her, not ruin her. She needs to be queen, to claim her birthright in whatever backwards dictates she’s confined to—a virgin princess who needs to stay that way until she marries.
I lost my mind. It’s the only explanation.
Jesus. That kiss. Fiery heat, urgent primal need. I have to stop thinking about it, have to stop replaying her needy, “Will you kiss me again, please? I need it more than my next breath.”
It never happened. I’m not going to tell anyone. She’s not going to tell anyone. Therefore, that kiss does not exist.
I avoided her at dinner, opting for room service, and now I’m at the high-stakes table on the terrace with Adrian, playing Ultimate Texas Hold ’Em poker. I’ve got a winning hand, and if I could just keep my focus, I could win big. I need cash fast to pay off Charles. I already called and told him Polly was out. He didn’t argue the point, simply saying, “I look forward to hearing your counteroffer.” Obviously all he cares about is getting his cut. He said he’d be in his office tonight for my requested meeting.
I glance around the table, trying to read the faces. Adrian’s gaze is on the table, his expression giving nothing away. There’s a middle-aged oil tycoon in a cowboy hat who looks cheerful (likely drunk) and a Saudi oil sheik who looks somber (maybe a good hand). The pair of them probably meet up here for business. There’s also three Italian men in designer suits. They’re quiet now after a lot of jovial talk (likely bad hands).
A short while later, I make my move and win the pot. All of the men groan. The dealer hands me a gold rectangular plaque with the value stamped on it. Adrian smiles. He’s been trying to improve my game. He has a nearly photographic memory, which helps with cards.
“Stick around,” the cowboy says to me. “Give us a chance to win some back.”
“Another time.”
I cash out and head straight to Charles’s office downstairs. The door is ajar, so I go right in. He’s sitting behind his desk, looking to the ceiling, his expression rapt. I spot a high heel peeking out the side of the desk.
Charles makes eye contact, a slight smirk on his face. What an ass. He knew I’d be stopping by tonight. And he left the door open. I step outside and wait.
