‘But your employer has your details on file.’
She gasped. ‘Tell me you didn’t ask theclínicafor my number?’ Her heart sped up. She couldn’t believe she’d got away unscathed after that night. She’d been waiting for the axe to drop, for someone to reveal that they’d seen her, but so far, nothing.
‘No,querida.When my uncle was admitted and I announced that I would be spending time at the hospital,my head of security was given details of all employees so he could vet them.’ Her jaw dropped. ‘It was a necessary precaution.’
‘Wow.’ She pressed her fingertips to her temple. ‘Okay, next question. Why did you call?’
His eyes traced her face for so long that she couldfeelheat on her skin, as if he was touching her. ‘I needed to see you.’
Her stomach dropped to her toes. ‘Did you?’
He nodded slowly, frowning a little, as if not sure what to say next. ‘I needed you.’
Because of the funeral. Because he was grieving again, and she’d been such a successful answer to that last time. But did she care why he needed her? Hadn’t she been craving him, too? That night hadn’t been enough—she wanted more. Just one more night? Would that cure her of this obsession?
‘Phoebe, nothing’s changed. Who I am, what I can offer…but I’m asking you to spend tonight with me.’
He was asking her. And he was being honest with her. Christopher had used her, he’d manipulated her, he’d broken her trust again and again. He’d made a fool of her, because he’dalways been lying. The whole time they were together had been a falsehood. Octavio was being honest with her, and he was asking her what she wanted. This was her choice; she could do what she wanted, on her terms.
And she knew what she wanted.
‘Yes,’ she said, simply, walking towards him with a sense of purpose she had no interest in doubting. ‘I’ll spend tonight with you.’
CHAPTER THREE
THENEXTMORNINGhe reached for her, just as he had the other morning, only this time, his fingertips glanced across soft, smooth flesh, her body warm and close. He didn’t know what time it was. Light was filtering through the windows of his bedroom, but it was still a pale, golden light, promising the freshness of a just burgeoning day.
She shifted in her sleep, rolling to face him, her eyes shut, her lashes long against her creamy skin. Her lips curved into a smile. He closed the distance between them, kissing her slowly, softly, savouring this moment of waking her, his naked body pressed to hers, so she responded immediately. Her arm snaked around his middle, her mouth moved beneath his, and deep in her throat she moaned, a husky sound filled with need.
He moved his body over hers, delighting in the feel of her nakedness beneath him, of her responsiveness to his touch, delighting in his power over her. As he moved his hands, he was invoking a powerful, age-old spell, stirring her body to fever pitch with every brush of his fingers, every movement of his mouth. She was soft and supple, her skin lifting in goose bumps with his touch, her body reacting with warmth and need. His kisses dragged across her flesh, padding the goose bumps with his lips, his tongue, tracing her lines. He worshipped her sex with his mouth, his strong hands on her thighs, holdingher apart for him, so he had total access to her most private, sensitive core.
She bucked against his mouth, her body beaded in fine perspiration, her moans louder and faster now, so he grinned as he pulled away from her purely to grab a condom and then returned, his own need an insatiable beast controlling him completely.
He nudged her legs apart and thrust into her hard, deep, her muscles squeezing him tight, her whole body reacting to his presence, her cries filling the room with that particular note of fervent need. His own cries were low but no less infused with desperation; he was buried inside of her, but it wasn’t enough. He moved faster, kissed her harder, his tongue an unconscious echo of his movements, his hair-roughened chest brushing against her hardened nipples. Her hands ran down his back, cupped his buttocks, held him where she needed him, and then she was screaming his name as her whole body began to tremble and the muscles that were surrounding him began to tighten almost unbearably, making restraint impossible. He came almost as she did, losing himself to this overwhelming sensation of pleasure, his body throbbing with satiation, his release intense.
He collapsed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, feeling every deep, rasping breath she took, hearing it inside his own body. This had started as a distraction, as a need to forget, but it was now just simplyneed.He contemplated rolling away from Phoebe and then ending this. He thought about not seeing her again, and he knew he wouldn’t do it. He didn’t want to.
There was something about her that made his body sing, and he wasn’t ready to give it up yet. Even when it was the right thing to do. While his betrothal had never been formalised, it was very much expected by both royal households. His parents’wishes, and her parents’ wishes, were in alignment, and Octavio had always known he would honour his parents’ choice for him.
But his marriage was still some time off. It would take at least a year to finalise arrangements and prepare the ceremony. Until then, he was a free agent. Free to do what he wanted, but not if that proved harmful to Phoebe.
He pushed up onto his elbow so he could see her more clearly. Her beautiful face was flushed pink, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
‘Good morning,’ she murmured, running her fingers through her hair.
He shifted his hips a little, revelling in the way she bit into her lip. Sensations were still flooding his body, and he was sure she was also feeling the aftereffects of their coming together.
He wanted more of her; but how much more? And for how long? It wasn’t fair to use Phoebe to fill a gap in his life while it suited him, then discard her when he was ready to marry. Besides, he had no idea what she wanted.
Everything between them was incredibly simple and organic—it just felt easy. At the same time, it was also impossibly hard. He had been born to serve his country; that was his duty. It was something he’d always known, but after the death of his parents it had crystallised in his mind as the primary purpose in his life. He had focused on that every single day after their deaths, when his uncle had made his life a misery, and his nannies had delighted in punishing him and isolating him, he’d thought of his country and the kind of King he would be, how he could make his parents proud. It was the sole focus of his life.
He wasn’t interested in relationships—not relationships that might take that focus and split it. Particularly not now he was finally in the box seat and had been crowned King. He needed to work hard to undo the damage Mauricio had wrought, and then he needed to marry the Princess his parents had chosenand create enough heirs that the line of succession would be safe for ever. These were his priorities. Not losing time and energy to a woman. Not even a woman as tempting as Phoebe. In fact, she was so tempting that she reminded him how important it was to walk away from her—to remind them both that this was meaningless and unimportant, because nothing mattered to him like his role as King did.
A heaviness sat in his chest as he mentally closed the door on temptation. He wanted Phoebe, but he couldn’t have her, and he’d known that right from the start of this thing.
‘I’ll have my driver take you home.’
Even to his own ears, his voice was cold; no wonder she flinched a little. The light that had seemed to glitter in her eyes was instantly extinguished. Her lips parted on a soft sound of breath escaping. He could see her physically wrangling with his meaning, trying to interpret it differently, and watching the shift in her emotions was something he didn’t enjoy. He wanted to apologise. To explain. To help her understand that she was wonderful but he was limited, so limited, in what he could offer and even what he could want. But for some reason, he couldn’t properly grasp how to vocalise any of those feelings. He couldn’t even properly shape the explanations in his own mind, so how could he offer them to her?
