She watched as he began to stroke on the rubber and lifted his gaze, curving her a complicit smile as if silently acknowledging her enjoyment of the floorshow. Would he be shocked if he knew what she was really thinking—that she’d never seen either a condom or an erection before? Was he going to be disappointed once the truth was out and wouldn’t it be better to tell him now?
Instinct overrode her brief spike of conscience as she coiled her arms around his neck. Because this was an education, she reminded herself fiercely. A rite of passage. Something she needed to do to shake off the shackles of innocence and join the ranks of real women. Nothing more than that. This was what modern, normal people did. They met, they were attracted to one another—and they had sex. Why spoil it by revealing all her hang-ups and compromise her anonymity in the process?
He was moving over her and it felt slightly scary as he guided himself towards her—to where she was so hot and sticky. She tried not to tense up as he eased himself inside her, but he was so big she couldn’t help herself gasping out. For a moment he stilled, lifting his head to look at her—an expression of incomprehension etched onto his dark features.
His one-word question was incredulous. ‘You—?’
‘Yes,’ she gasped as her hips jerked forwards all of their own accord, so that he went in even deeper. ‘But don’t stop, Rafe. Please don’t stop.’
Rafe gave a strangled groan as he went deeper into her tight heat. How could he possibly have stopped when she was raining urgent kisses all over his shoulder and squeezing her pelvic muscles in a way which instantly made him want to come?
This really was just going to be once, he told himself grimly—so he had better make it something she would remember for the rest of her life. The best sex she would ever have. The only sex she would ever have—with him. Holding back his own hunger, he began to tease her clitoris with his finger as he thrust in and out of her, making her moan with pleasure—her cries getting louder with each penetration. He halted and lifted his head to look at her as a cold kind of anger rippled over his skin.
‘Keep quiet,’ he ordered. ‘I don’t want you waking the men.’
But she didn’t—or couldn’t—keep quiet. Least of all when she began to come and he sensed that her gasps of disbelief were going to morph into cries of ecstasy. So he bent his head to kiss her, and the frantic touch of her lips seemed to intensify his own orgasm—and suddenly it was his cry being stifled by her kiss and the balance of power had shifted and he didn’t like that either.
He could feel her contracting around him as his body jerked like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and only when nature had finished with him and emptied him of all his seed did he have the strength to pull out. To roll away from her and close his mind to the rapturous look on her face as her eyelids fluttered to a close. To ignore the ruffled hair and dreamy expression of someone who had just experienced sex for the first time. Because although he wanted to lick her breasts and slide his hand between her thighs again and make her come all over his fingers, he didn’t intend touching her until she’d given him some kind of explanation.
A virgin! Dazedly, he shook his head. Whoever would have guessed it, when she’d agreed to have casual sex without any degree of hesitation? She’d been so up for it that they could have done it in the swimming pool. Or in the garden. If he’d laid her out on the kitchen table where she buttered bread each morning, he reckoned she still would have given him the green light. Why, she’d acted like someone completely at ease with her own sexuality—right up to the moment when he’d thrust inside her and she’d made that broken little cry. Why the hell hadn’t she told him she was innocent—and at least given him the option of whether or not he wanted to be the first?
And yet it had been amazing, hadn’t it? The most amazing sex he could remember?
Pushing away the rogue thought, he didn’t speak until he was certain his words would come out as measured and controlled. But even then his throat felt constricted and he could feel another rush of heat to his groin as he remembered easing into her slick tightness.
‘You’re certainly a woman of surprises,’ he said. ‘You don’t happen to have any more hidden up your sleeve?’
Sophie froze as she realised it was probably the most astute question he could have asked in the circumstances. What would he say if he realised what else she wasn’t telling him? She kept her eyes shut, not daring to open them, afraid of what they might reveal—when she wasn’t even sure herself. She felt...what?
She swallowed.
Complete? Yes. Satisfied? Very. She felt shy yet strangely confident, because she’d done it and it had worked. She’d had sex! She’d had an orgasm! Underneath all the glitz and the unusual upbringing, she was no different from any other woman—and that thought gave her hope for the future. It made her feel strong. As if she was capable of pretty much anything she set her mind to. And Rafe had touched her as she’d always dreamed a man might do. Not in a reverential way. Not treating her as if she were made of porcelain or making her acutely aware of her ‘blue blood’—but treating her just like a woman. And before he’d made love to her, he’d hugged her, hadn’t he? Held her close. He’d picked her up and carried her. Cradled her tight against his wet chest—and that had blown her away nearly as much as the sex, because she wasn’t used to physical contact. Even as a child, her parents had never been demonstrative. The Queen used to appear before dinner—all dressed up in her finery—and one of the palace nannies would troop the royal children in for a quick kiss goodnight. Why, she’d been touched more tonight than in her entire life.
Sophie sighed as she wriggled against the rumpled bedsheet, not sure whether she wanted to slide beneath it with her happy, private thoughts, or to dance around the room in celebration. But what she wanted most of all was to tiptoe her fingers over Rafe’s silky flesh and have him kiss her again. She wanted him to wipe that curiously judgemental expression from his face—because what did it matter that she’d never had sex before? She wondered what the etiquette for dealing with a situation like this was and how ironic that she, an expert in etiquette, should be at such a loss.
Well, she wasn’t going to cower away like someone who was ashamed, because she wasn’t. Maybe she should just let him know how much she’d enjoyed it and then maybe he would do it to her all over again.
She felt liquid heat pooling low in her stomach as her eyelashes fluttered open and she was unprepared for the punch of emotion she felt as she looked at him—the man who up until a few minutes ago had been deep inside her. He looked the same, and yet he seemed different—but then she’d never seen him naked in the moonlight before, or softened by the intimacy of sex. Her gaze drifted over his powerful dark body, outlined against the rumpled white sheets, because surely what had just happened gave her the right to study him like this. Something melted deep inside her as she felt her heart skip a beat. How was it possible to want him again so quickly—and did he want her, too?
Her tongue slid out to moisten her lips. ‘That was—’
‘Don’t tell me.’ His voice was a hard and cynical drawl. ‘Amazing? Wonderful? Women usually say it was the best sex they’ve ever had, although I suppose in your case that would be difficult to gauge since it’s the only sex you’ve ever had.’
Sophie went very still, thinking he must be making a joke—and a joke in very poor taste—to discuss his other lovers at such a sensitive time. But as her eyes sought his face she could see no trace of humour there and she realised that he seemed irritated. Disenchantment whispered over her but she didn’t show it—grateful for years of social training, which meant she was able to return his gaze with a cool impartiality. ‘You sound disappointed, Rafe. Do you have a problem with the fact that I was a virgin?’
‘Only the same kind of problem I might have if I took a ride in a car with somebody who hadn’t bothered to tell me they were a learner driver.’
‘Why the hell have you never had sex before?’ he demanded. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You’re young. You’re beautiful. You were clearly up for it. And this is the twenty-first century.’
Sophie swallowed. Now was the time to come clean. To say what she would need to repeat at least once, because he would think she was making it up.
You might have been living in the twenty-first century, but I certainly wasn’t. Because I was born a royal and betrothed to one of the world’s most eligible men and part of the deal was that I would go to him as a virgin on my wedding night.
And then what?
A nightmare, that was what. Once she’d convinced him she wasn’t a complete fantasist, she would be obliged to dredge up a past she was trying to move on from. She would be forced into a truth she didn’t want to have to face—that she was a princess with an unknown future. And even worse—what if he suddenly became very interested? True, he didn’t seem the type—but you never really knew. Lots of people were turned on by palaces and crowns and a status which couldn’t be bought, or earned. And wouldn’t it only reinforce her plummeting self-esteem if he decided he wanted her for what she was, rather than who she was?
Suddenly she was filled with an overwhelming desire to temper his arrogance. To see if she could unsettle him for a change. ‘Maybe I was just waiting to meet the right man,’ she said innocently, watching as he sat up in bed, quickly covering the lower part of his body with the rumpled bedsheet. But not before she’d noticed that he was aroused again and for some reason that gave her a fleeting feeling of triumph.
‘I think we’d better get one thing clear, Sophie,’ he said as a pulse worked frantically at his temple. ‘The sex we just had was amazing. More than amazing—especially as it was your first time. You don’t have enough experience to know that, but let me assure you it’s true.’ He paused, as if picking his words carefully. ‘But the fact remains that I’m not in the market for any kind of commitment. I meant every word of what I said to you in the pool. This changes nothing.’
She widened her eyes. ‘Oh?’
‘I don’t want you having any unrealistic expectations, that’s all. I’m not the kind of man who is blown away by the fact you were a virgin—I don’t have some primitive, chest-thumping desire to shout it from the rooftops. It doesn’t mean anything to me and neither do you. Sorry to be so blunt, but it saves any kind of misunderstanding. I’m not looking for a partner and even if I was, that partner wouldn’t be you. I told you that I believe in honesty and I’m being honest now. We have very different lives,’ he added, almost gently. ‘You’re a cook on some kind of late-onset gap year and I’m a globetrotting CEO. Think about it.’ He gave a shrugging kind of smile. ‘It could never work.’
Oh, the arrogant, arrogant man! Sophie resisted the urge to pick up the nearest hard object and hurl it at him, before telling herself that behaving rashly wouldn’t improve anything and it would compromise any remaining dignity. But at least his attitude made her decision easier. There would be no confidences shared with this particular Englishman. She wasn’t going to tell him a single thing about herself—why should she, when he obviously couldn’t wait to get away from her?
Some of her inbuilt royal confidence came rushing back as she returned his stare. ‘I think you flatter yourself,’ she said coolly as she got out of bed and picked up the discarded towel which was lying in a heap on the floor. ‘I agree with every word you say. It was nothing but an initiation to sex and a pretty amazing one. So thanks for that—but rest assured that I’m not looking for commitment either. I told you that in the pool. Maybe I should have let on that I was a virgin but I didn’t want to destroy the mood. And since you’re such a busy globetrotting CEO who is flying out of here tomorrow, I’d better let you get some peace so you can sleep. Goodnight, Rafe.’ She flashed him a smile. ‘Sweet dreams.’
And Sophie felt a very different kind of satisfaction as she saw the expression of disbelief on Rafe Carter’s face just before she turned and walked out of his bedroom.
CHAPTER FOUR
RAFE WAS WOKEN by the insistent sound of his phone vibrating and he stifled a groan as he picked it up. It was one of several he owned but the only one whose number was given to those closest to him. He glanced at the flashing screen to see that it was William, one of his assistants, calling from New York. He frowned. William was in a completely different time zone and had strict instructions not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary.
He hit the button and waited.
‘Rafe?’
‘Of course it’s me! Who else did you think it would be? It’s five o’clock in the flaming morning!’ Rafe answered, his mood not enhanced by the sight of Sophie’s discarded swimsuit lying on the floor of the en-suite bathroom. Or by the fact that an image of her face had been haunting him for hours, meaning that he’d only fallen into a fitful sleep a restless hour ago.
A rush of heat flooded through his groin as he remembered the sex of the night before. Remembered her beautiful body laid out like a feast on top of his sheets with those big blue eyes looking up at him and her long legs parted in invitation. And she had been a virgin, he reminded himself grimly. She hadn’t bothered telling him that before she had thrust her wet breasts against him in the swimming pool, had she?
Because women had their secrets, he thought bitterly. Every damned one of them keeping stuff hidden away and not caring about the consequences.
And sometimes their secrets became your secrets and they gnawed away deep inside you until there was nothing but a dark and empty hole.
He sat up, his fingers tightening around the phone. ‘I thought I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed unless absolutely necessary,’ he bit out.
His assistant’s voice grew serious. ‘This is very necessary, Rafe.’
Rafe stilled, because even though he came from the world’s most dysfunctional family, they were still family. Yet if somebody was ill, it wouldn’t be his assistant ringing him. It would be Amber, or one of his half-brothers, surely. ‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded. ‘Is someone sick?’
‘No. Nobody’s sick.’
‘What, then?’ questioned Rafe impatiently.
There was a split-second pause. ‘That girl you’ve got working at the station.’
‘Sophie,’ said Rafe instantly and then could have cursed himself. Surely he should have taken longer than a nanosecond to recall the name of one of his itinerant workers. ‘The cook.’
‘She’s not a cook.’
‘She may have only the most basic of culinary skills, but I can assure you she most certainly is.’
‘She’s a princess.’
There was a pause. ‘William, have you been drinking?’
‘She’s a princess from Isolaverde,’ his assistant continued doggedly. ‘One of the world’s richest islands. Gold, diamonds, petroleum, natural gas, uranium. They hold some international yacht race every year. They’ve even—’
‘I get the idea, William. And I’ve heard of it. Get on with it.’
‘She’s young and beautiful—’
You’re telling me. ‘The facts,’ bit out Rafe.
‘She was engaged to some prince. Prince Luciano of Mardovia—known as Luc. Bit of a player—lived on another Mediterranean island—known each other since they were kids. Just before the engagement was due to be announced he goes and makes some English dressmaker pregnant. Big scandal. He was forced to marry the dressmaker—so the wedding with Princess Sophie had to be called off. And that’s when she disappeared.’
‘Disappeared?’ repeated Rafe slowly, his mind spinning as he tried to get his head round the relevant facts. Not just the fact
that the name Luc rang a distant bell in his memory, but a far more worrying one. He’d just had sex with a virgin princess?
‘Into thin air. She ran away. Or rather, flew away. Nobody really knew about it because her brother instigated an information lockdown. And no one had any idea where she was. At least, not until now.’ Another pause. ‘They know she’s at Poonbarra, Rafe.’
‘And how...?’ Rafe drew in a deep breath. ‘How the hell do they know that?’
‘Seems like Eileen Donahue—that’s the woman who runs the general store in Corksville—recognised Sophie yesterday. Said she was, and I quote, “All dolled up for a change” and that she seemed “familiar”. So she looked her up on the Internet—and what do you know? Sophie is familiar. She’s royal, no less. Eileen contacted one of the papers in Brisbane and I’m afraid the rest is exactly how you imagine it would be. The journalists did their research and I’m ringing to say that you can expect a deputation of the world’s press on your doorstep before too long.’
Rafe’s fingers clasped the phone so tightly that he heard his knuckles crack. ‘That can’t be allowed to happen, William,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t want a circus invading town. Poonbarra is a place of privacy. The one place in the world where I am guaranteed peace. I want you to kill this story and I want you to kill it now.’
A Royal Vow of Convenience Page 5
