‘Right.’ He sat back and wiped his forehead with a paint-smeared cloth that looked suspiciously like a Chatsfield Hotel hand towel. ‘It needs a few more touches but I’ll do that when we get back. This coat has to dry before I add any more detail.’
Lottie stepped out of the bath and quickly dried her feet and ankles on a towel before coming to look over his shoulder. ‘Do I really look like that?’
He frowned. ‘What? You don’t like it?’
She suddenly realised he was uncertain and hiding it behind a gruff impatience. ‘I don’t know....’ She put a finger to her lips and tapped against them as if in deep critical thought. ‘I think you could’ve done a better job with my breasts.’
‘What do you mean?’ He scowled at her irritably. ‘I spent bloody ages on your breasts. They’re perfect. They’ve got just the right amount of form and light and shadow.’
Lottie tapped him on the end of his nose with a playful fingertip, flashing him a cheeky got-you smile. ‘You are such a sensitive boy.’
‘Little witch.’ He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her close, taking her right breast into the hot cavern of his mouth and drawing deeply.
She looked down at his dark head against her white skin and shivered. She stroked her fingers through his closely cropped hair, breathing in the scent of the signature Chatsfield shampoo. She wondered with a sharp little pang if there would be a time in the future when she could smell cedarwood, leather, white rose and lavender and not think of him.
Lucca’s mouth went to her other breast, his tongue teasing the nipple into a hardened point. Her belly turned over in delight as one of his hands left her hip to cup her intimately. She pushed against him, wanting more, aching for him with every throbbing cell of her being.
‘We’re supposed to be giving you a rest,’ he said.
‘I’m rested.’
‘No, you’re not.’ He put her from him but softened it with a rueful smile. ‘Stop tempting me, baby girl. Don’t you know creative types are easily distracted?’
‘I like distracting you.’ She traced his bottom lip with her finger, then over his top one. ‘You look so intense when you’re working. You get deep frown lines here.’ She touched his forehead. ‘You look moody and grumpy, sort of like Beethoven.’
He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Yes, well, that’s a side of me no one else sees. Thank God.’
Lottie put her hands on his shoulders and looked into dark brown eyes. ‘You’re a good person, Lucca Chatsfield. Don’t let anyone ever tell you any different.’
‘Don’t go pinning any angel wings on me, little princess.’ His eyes contained a dangerous glint. ‘I’m rotten to the core.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
His hands cupped her bottom, bringing her between his spread thighs. His erection was tenting his jeans; she could feel it pressing against her thigh, making her need of him all the more desperate. She reached down and undid his waistband, sliding his zip down and freeing him to her hand, caressing that proudly jutting flesh as she watched pleasure play out over his features. ‘You like it when I do that?’
‘What do you think?’
She rubbed his shaft up and down, rolling her fingertip over the bead of moisture that oozed from his tip. ‘I want to pleasure you.’
‘Here’s the thing.’ He stood and scooped her up in his arms. ‘I have this little rule about ladies coming first. Call me old-fashioned but that’s the way I always do things.’
Lottie quivered with anticipation as he lowered her to the bed in his suite. His eyes were black with desire as he parted her legs, stroking the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, ramping up her excitement with each slow caress. By the time he put his mouth to her she was already flying. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers clawing at the bedcover as wave after wave of ecstasy rippled through her. The intensity of her response to him always shocked her. It took her by surprise each and every time. Her response was never quite the same. There were new things to learn about her body each time he touched her.
But now it was time for her to learn more about his.
Lottie pushed him onto his back on the bed and straddled him. He was fully engorged, painfully so if the look on his face was anything to go by. ‘I want to suck you dry.’ She could barely believe she had said the shockingly erotic words, let alone meant them.
‘Not without a condom.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s safer for you with one.’ He reached for protection in the bedside drawer and handed it to her. ‘You can put it on me if you like.’
She took it from him and tore the packet with her teeth. ‘Can I put it on with my mouth?’
‘You’re inner bad girl is letting it all hang out tonight, isn’t she?’
She gave him a teasing look. ‘Do you think you can you handle her?’
He smiled a wickedly sexy smile. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE PRESS WERE waiting for them as they landed in Preitalle the following day but for once in her life Lottie didn’t shy away from the surge of people and the flash of cameras. Her body was still humming from Lucca’s passionate lovemaking the night before, not to mention a quick hot interlude in the shower before they left the hotel that morning. It was a new experience to be the darling of the press and she lapped it up while Lucca led her to the waiting car. He handled all the questions with his usual charm and good humour, even the question about a second royal wedding.
‘Let’s get the first one out of the way first,’ he said with an easy smile.
Madeleine, however, was not so happy about the way the press had taken to Lottie’s affair with Lucca, and took her aside once he had left for the hotel. ‘Do you realise what you’re doing?’ she said.
‘I’m going out and having a life just like you told me to.’
‘Your affair with Lucca Chatsfield is taking the attention off my wedding.’ Madeleine scowled. ‘Not one camera looked my way when we were out there just then. No one even spoke to me. They were all clicking away at you and him as if it were you two getting married and not me and Edward.’
‘It was your idea to bring him here,’ Lottie reminded her.
‘He’s supposed to be helping you with the wedding.’
‘He is helping me with the wedding. He’s in charge of the hens’ night. It’s going to be fun. Just you wait and see.’
Madeleine was still scowling as she followed Lottie to her office. ‘You’re not really in love with him, are you?’
Lottie put her mobile phone on the desk next to her computer. Lucca had been sending her smoulderingly hot texts to remind her of what he was going to do to her when he finally got her alone. Her body reacted to each one as if he had reached through the phone and touched her. She clicked off the screen so her sister couldn’t see his latest missive. ‘No, of course not, but I do like him. He’s fun to be around. He makes me laugh.’
Madeleine humphed. ‘He’s not in love with you even if he acts as if he is. He’s just using you to fill in the time before he collects his allowance.’
Lottie felt a sharp little pain near the bottom of her heart as if something was trying to tug it down below her rib cage. She knew Lucca’s motives were not entirely pure. She knew he was only here for his family’s money and that he would not let anything or anyone stop him from collecting what he felt he was entitled to, but she hated being reminded of it, especially by her sister, who had found a man who loved her so completely and unreservedly. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘I don’t want anything to spoil my wedding.’ Madeleine pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘You almost ruined my twenty-first birthday with your silly little fling with that diplomat’s son. I hope you’re not going to let history repeat itself.’
Lottie jolted
as if her sister had slapped her. What about what had happened to her? What about her devastation at being exploited? At being exposed in such a degrading way? ‘If you’re so worried I’m going to stuff everything up for you, then why did you ask me to be your wedding planner?’
‘Because I felt sorry for you.’
The words fell into the room like a hand grenade.
Lottie swallowed a painful lump in her throat. Pity. The one thing she hated more than anything else. ‘Is that why you agreed to have Lucca Chatsfield come over here to spice up my woefully pathetic social life?’
A hard look came into her sister’s eyes. ‘Have a fling with him but try and keep it out of the headlines, okay? This is the most important day of my life. I don’t want anyone on centre stage but me.’
* * *
Lucca knew Lottie was upset as soon as she stepped into the Chatsfield bar where he had arranged to meet her. She didn’t show it on her face. It was the way she carried herself. Stiffly. As if she was carrying an invisible weight on her head that at any moment was going to topple off. He pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look like you need a couple of champagne cocktails to loosen up.’
Her eyes seemed to be having trouble meeting his. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Two minutes isn’t late.’ He gently flicked her cheek with his finger. ‘I guess it is when you’re a control freak, huh?’
She gave him a tight smile before looking away again. ‘My sister’s upset with me.’
He brought her chin back round so she met his gaze. ‘What? She didn’t like the lingerie?’
Her forehead was puckered with a frown. ‘She doesn’t like the fact that our fling is taking the attention off her.’
Lucca felt his stomach stumble like a foot misjudging a step. Did she want to end their relationship ahead of schedule? The thought was disturbingly uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. What did he care if she ended it? There were plenty of women who would willingly take her place in his bed. He could replace her in a heartbeat. ‘Aren’t you entitled to your share of the limelight?’
She let out a breath that made her shoulders slump. ‘I can’t seem to please her. For years she’s been at me to get out more. Now I’m finally out having a bit of fun and she wants me to tone it down.’
‘Ever thought of telling her to mind her own business?’
She gave him a fleeting smile. ‘I’d have to have a vodka chaser or two first.’
‘Why are you afraid of standing up to her?’
She slowly traced the C on the Chatsfield coaster on the bar in front of her. ‘I don’t know...I guess it’s because she’s never put a foot wrong. She never makes a blunder.’ She pushed the coaster away as if it had suddenly annoyed her and looked at him. ‘Is must be wonderful to go through life without ever making a mistake.’
Lucca didn’t like to think too closely about some of the mistakes he’d made. There were too many of them to think about. They were backed up behind him like a row of wrecked and abandoned cars, going all the way back to his childhood. He brushed his knuckles beneath her chin. ‘Want to go somewhere a little more private?’
Her eyes got that sparkle in them that always made his groin tighten. ‘Where did you have in mind?’
He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘I have an etching to show you.’
* * *
Lottie held the painting Lucca had done of her in her hands. It was no bigger than a postcard even with the frame he’d organised for it. ‘It’s beautiful....’ She traced the gilt edge of the frame with her fingertip. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been given anything more beautiful.’ She swivelled to look at him. ‘Thank you.’
He gave one of his indifferent shrugs. ‘Count yourself lucky. You’re the first lover I’ve ever given a gift to.’
She put the painting down on the dressing table, watching him covertly in the mirror. ‘What will you do with the one of me in the palace gardens?’
‘File it away somewhere, I suppose.’
‘I think you should show it to a top gallery owner in London or New York. Set up a solo exhibition. It would be a way to launch your career as an artist. Painting a royal portrait is every artist’s—’
‘No.’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘But why? What’s the point of doing such delicate and exquisite work and hiding it in the bottom drawer as if you’re ashamed of it?’
His expression tightened. ‘My artwork is private. I want to keep it that way.’
‘But why?’
‘Because there’s nothing else in my life that is private.’
Lottie looked at him oddly. ‘But I thought you liked drawing all that attention to yourself. You seem to deliberately court scandal. You said it’s your brand.’
He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Leave it, cara. I’m not after a big career in the arts.’
‘What do you want, Lucca?’
His eyes moved away from hers. ‘You know what I want. I want my share of the family trust fund.’
She rose from the dressing-table stool and came over to him. ‘You’ve had money all your life and it hasn’t made you happy.’
‘What makes you think I’m not happy?’
Lottie looked into his masked gaze. ‘Happy people don’t create negative drama, even if it’s mostly directed at themselves.’
A mocking smile tilted his mouth. ‘You should ask for a refund on that psychoanalyst degree you’re brandishing about. It’s rubbish.’
‘That’s a defence mechanism of yours. You make a joke of everything but inside you’re not laughing. You’re hurting.’
A line of tension rippled through his jaw but his smile was all easy laid-back charm. ‘Listen, sweetheart, we have two weeks to get through before your sister’s wedding. The world is kind of hooked on us getting it on so calling it quits right now would upset a lot of people and take the shine off your sister’s big day. Not to mention ruin my chances of claiming my trust fund. But hey, I’ll give you the choice. I’m cool either way.’
Lottie rolled her lips together. Did he really not give a damn whether their relationship continued or not? How could he be so easy going about it? Had she made no impression on him at all? Did he care nothing for her other than as just another lover he had taken to his bed?
It would serve him right if she did end it.
But of course she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Madeleine had already cautioned her about overshadowing her big day. Ending her affair with Lucca would draw a lot of unnecessary attention.
Besides, she didn’t want it to end.
Her heart gave a painfully tight squeeze. Admitting her feelings was dangerous. It made her want to think about things she had no business thinking about...Lucca and her together, not just for a couple of weeks but for a lifetime. Getting married. Having babies. Building a life of happiness and security for their family that he had missed out on in his lonely and traumatic childhood. Pipe dreams...all of them. That was the trouble with falling in love with a man who didn’t believe in love lasting. How many women thought they were the one to unlock a closed heart only to have theirs broken for their effort? Thousands. Millions.
‘I don’t want anything to spoil Madeleine and Edward’s wedding,’ she said.
He gave a slow nod. ‘Fine.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘You wouldn’t really forfeit your trust fund...would you?’
‘Not for the sake of two weeks.’
What about for the sake of me? Lottie pushed the thought aside before it could get a foothold. ‘Is it a lot of money?’
He picked up her royal-crested silver hairbrush and turned it over in his hands. ‘Not by some people’s standards.’
‘But it’s what it represents, right?’
He stood behind her
and started brushing her hair. Long, deliciously sensual strokes that made each hair on her head shiver in ecstasy. ‘I know you think I’m a blood-sucking parasite but—’
‘Please don’t remind me of how outspoken I was that day.’
He smiled at her crookedly in the mirror but it was another one of those sad smiles that made her heart constrict at the thought of the pain and loneliness he had experienced as a child. ‘Has anyone ever told you what beautiful hair you have?’
He was changing the subject, another defence mechanism he had perfected. But this time she didn’t call him on it. He had his reasons for wanting to claim his family’s money. It was no business of hers to criticise him for it or to try and dissuade him from following through on it. ‘You did...last night.’
‘So I did.’ He turned her so she was facing him. He tilted up her face and looked into her gaze for endless seconds, his thumb moving back and forth over her cheek like a slow-beating arm of a metronome. ‘It’s true, little princess. You are beautiful.’
Lottie put her hand over his. ‘I’ve never felt it until I met you.’
He slid his hand out from under hers and used it to tuck her hair back behind her ear as if she was six years old. ‘I have to get back to the hotel. There’s a staff issue my father’s CEO wants me to look into.’ Was it her imagination or had his voice sounded deeper and huskier than normal?
He was at the door before she could find her own voice and it too came out husky. ‘Lucca?’
He glanced at her over his shoulder. ‘Yes?’
‘Thank you...’
‘For?’
‘Just...thank you.’
His hand fell away from the doorknob as a frown settled on his forehead. ‘Lottie...you do realise this thing we’ve got going is not going to continue once I leave here, don’t you?’
Lottie fought hard to keep her expression serenely composed. ‘But of course. How could it? I live here. You live in England. Long-distance relationships never work. And I hate flying, remember?’
Playboy's Lesson Page 13
