Her throat shifted as she swallowed. ‘I—want—’ Her teeth pressed into her lower lip and her eyes dropped to his mouth, lingering there so long he began to feel his skin tingle.
‘Would you like me to kiss you,querida?’
Anguish flashed in her gaze, and surrender, too. She nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, I think I’d like that.’
He didn’t need to be asked twice, but caution was ingrained in Octavio. It came innately to him, and his position as heir presumptive and now King meant he had always focused on ensuring discretion with his private life. He wasn’t an ordinary man, no matter what he wished.
‘You understand I will leave for the palace tomorrow?’
She nodded softly.
‘That my role will require me to disappear from your life?’
Her eyes narrowed. It was hardly the stuff of romance, but he knew from experience that it was better to be upfront about what he could offer.
‘I know that.’
‘It’s only fair to be honest,’ he explained.
‘I agree.’
‘I would appreciate it if you kept our interaction private.’
‘But I have so many tabloids on my speed dial,’ she responded archly. ‘And I’m just itching to be known as a king’s one-night stand.’
‘Point taken. I’m sorry. I’m not myself tonight.’
Her features softened, sympathy gleaning in her eyes. ‘That’s understandable.’ She lifted up onto the tips of her toes. ‘Kiss me, Your Majesty.’
‘Now who’s being bossy?’
‘Is that a complaint?’
His response was to crush her mouth with his own, his body rejoicing in the instant contact and connection and yes, vitality. He was alive. His blood rushed through his body, strengthgathered in his muscles, and kissing her made every cell in his body reverberate with brilliant awareness. Best of all, death and loss and grief were nowhere now—there was only this.
CHAPTER TWO
DAWNSTIRREDACROSSthe kingdom, like the breathing of fresh life into the night, a whisper and a kiss, light and gentle. Darkness turned to silver and then to mauve, before a hint of gold glimmered across the city, drawing Phoebe’s eyes to the palace, which she glimpsed through the window.
What had seemed so natural and easy the night before now slammed into her with a growing sense of awe.
What had she done?
Andwhy?
Phoebe hadneverhad a one-night stand before in her life. In fact, she’d only been with one other man, whom she believed herself to be engaged to—little had she known, he was actually already married. But to Phoebe, it had been real, and she’d thought herself in love, and their intimacy had been a natural progression of that.
Last night with King Octavio had been something else entirely. Something wild and passionate, something quite feral, as if they were simply animals, unable to keep their hands off each other. Maybe it had started out as something else. Comfort? Sharing grief? An understanding of life’s cruellest losses? But within minutes it had escalated. They’d torn clothes from one another, tangled arms and legs, lips meshed, bodies fused by a desperate, aching need that had refused to abate. The first time they were together had been wild and manic, but there’d been noanswering calm afterwards. No sense of satiation. It had simply morphed into a different type of need, this time, a compulsion to explore slowly, to almost torment one another by holding back until they were once more at fever pitch. He’d kissed her all over, his mouth ravaging her breasts, her nipples, the sensitive skin just beneath her ear, her everywhere. She pressed the palm of her hand to her lips to contain a moan.
Dawn was breaking and she wasat work.She needed to get out of theclínica, go home, freshen up and then get back to work, all without anyone knowing how she’d spent the small hours of the morning. Her heart was in her throat as she contemplated how exactly to handle the etiquette of the situation.
Last night, they’d agreed it was a one-night thing, and she’d been fine with that. She was still fine with it. Only, having known the mind-blowing pleasure that had been sex with Octavio, she was experiencing just a hint of remorse at the idea of leaving without one more kiss, one more everything…
But she had a shift starting in a few hours, which left just enough time to get home, shower, eat something and return. As quietly as she could, she crept from the bed, easing one leg out first and then the other, watching him the whole time, waiting to see if he would stir, half hoping he would even as she did her best to be quiet.
He didn’t.
The combination of yesterday’s grief and last night’s activities must have worn him out, because she’d have put money on him ordinarily being an early riser. There was an intensity to him that made her think he was the kind of man who wouldn’t want to waste a moment of the day.
