Page 24 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

Telling himself that he was just doing her a favour, and also delivering a big glass of water, Dax went in and put the water down on the bedside table.

Laia didn’t stir. She was on her back. One arm over her chest. Dark hair spread out around her head. It tended towards the wild and wavy. He liked it. It hinted at other depths beneath the largely serene surface she projected—or had been taught to project.

He recognised it from his brother Ari. They would both have been taught at an early age not to show emotion.

And yet when he’d been telling her about his mother, just a short while before—something he avoided talking about at all costs, usually—Laia’s eyes had filled with compassion.

Dax diverted his mind from how that had made him feel. He didn’t ask for an emotional response from anyone.

The light sheet was pushed down to Laia’s waist. One long leg was sticking out. She wore a tank top that did little to hide the firm swells of her breasts.

He could still feel them pressed against his chest as he’d carried her to the bedroom. She’d felt so light in his arms, but strong too. He’d felt her breath on his neck...warm.

By the time he’d put her on her feet his blood had been clamouring formore. To touch her. Explore that lithe body. Feel her under his mouth. Opening to him.

Cursing under his breath now, Dax moved silently around the bed, drawing the protective net down. This woman could not be his. No matter what she said, she was destined to be Queen of Santanger. He knew his brother, and Ari would stop at nothing to have his Queen by his side.

Dax would not betray his trust. But it might kill him in the process.

When Laia woke she was disorientated. She cracked open an eye and all she saw was fuzziness—until she realised it was the mosquito net around the bed. It was dawn outside, so mercifully it wasn’t too hot yet.

She came up on one elbow and winced when her brain collided with her head. Her mouth felt as dry as sandpaper. She spied a glass of water by the bed and pulled back the net to get it.

Had she brought that up to bed? She couldn’t recall. Last night wasn’t a blank but it was a bit blurry. She took a big gulp of water. She recalled talking to Dax for ages. About things that she hadn’t expected at all. Or had that all been a dream?

He’d told her about his parents.

He could cook like a pro.

So unexpected.

Laia got out of bed and went to the bathroom. Her hair was a big tangle around her shoulders. She couldn’t look less like a crown princess right now. The stuffy Privy Council would be horrified.

As she went back towards the bed she passed her open door, leading out to the corridor. Dax’s room was on the other side of the hall. Laia found her feet taking her out of her room and down the hall.

Dax’s door was wide open.

So he would have heard her if she’d felt ill during the night?

She crept closer. His room was dark—it was on the west side of the villa so the sun would hit her room first.

Knowing she was intruding, but unable to stop herself, Laia went further into the room. His net was pulled around the bed, but there was a chink between two ends that was open.

It gave her a perfect view of the man on the bed. And he was naked. Laia’s feet were stuck to the floor. The sheet had been thrown off completely and Dax lay in a sprawl, one leg bent. One hand was on his chest, which rose and fell rhythmically.

He was breathtaking. That was the only word to describe it. Every muscle clearly delineated. Not a spare ounce of flesh. Corded muscles on his legs. His narrow waist. And...

Laia’s breath stopped when her gaze rested on the potent centre of his masculinity.

She’d never seen a naked man in the flesh before. She knew she was transgressing a million boundaries and invading Dax’s space, but she couldn’t look away.

Even at rest he was impressive. Intimidating. Laia wondered what it must be like to lie next to a man like this. To wake up beside him. To have permission to touch him when you wanted because he wasyours. To wrap your hand around—

Dax shifted on the bed and Laia froze in terror, her gaze on his face now, imagining his eyes opening. Those too-blue eyes fixing on her. Finding her ogling him. But they didn’t open.

Laia backed away from the bed, the net obscuring her vision again. And then she turned around and fled, straight back to her room, closing the door silently behind her. She was wide awake now. She didn’t think she’d ever get that image of Dax erased from her brain.

And she didn’t want to.

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