After the shower, they’d moved to the bed, then against the tilted windows overlooking the ocean, then back on the bed. For the full afternoon, they basked in each other.
She was insatiable. Flynn was stunned he had any fluids left. Not to mention they were running low on condoms.
But he couldn’t resist her. After the long, seven hours in the engine room, he was so relieved to see her safe at the lunch table, and still thankfully unaware of what he uncovered and the threat with Liang Wen. Something had changed inside him. Softened. Opened to the possibility of more. More than just his reclusive life on the seas. More than his habit of avoiding intimacy for fear of rejection.
Straddling him, folds curled around his stiff cock. The carnal tension made him moan.
Her long, dark hair fell over her shoulder, skimming the top of her peaked nipple, her eyes closed in rapturous delight.
Dammit, she looked magnificent.
He didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, or even later that night. The captain could toss them both ashore at the next port, turn them in to authorities, or worse just put a bullet in each of their heads.
How could he leave this world without having tasted the delectable dessert of Alanna?
She arched her back through a long moan. He hardened further, stretching more at the sweet sound, and massaged her swollen breasts. The deepest part of her channel was tight, milking him of everything he had. She wrapped her hands over his, rubbing them harder into her chest. The rhythm of her hips increased, and she hissed through her teeth.
“Asi, asi. More.” Her mocha eyes opened and pierced him straight to his gut. His cock twitched inside her. He thrust upward just as she ground into him. With a soft yelp, she braced her hand on his chest. It was too much for her; too much for him. She cried out, her face contorting into an expression he’d never seen. Both on the edge of oblivion, one more thrust and they’d pitch over into spine-tingling pleasure.
One…more…surge.
With a howl, he fell off the world. His sac tightened and seed spilled out, hot and relentless into Alanna’s tight sheath. Then her hand covered his ear. The nerve endings prickled across his brain. He jerked his head away as the rush of ejaculation rocked his body.
“Flynn, stop.” Her words were muffled, but he heard them through the pounding between his ears. He forced himself to stop moving, but the spurting continued. His body jerked and shuddered until they finally subsided.
She chose the one moment when I couldn’t stop. When I have no control.
“Did I hurt you?” he panted.
Her chest rose and fell, her hair tousled around her shoulders. She chuckled. “It was a little too rough there at the end.”
He carefully lifted her off him, and she winced.
“I’m sorry.” He set her next to him.
“That’s your full power,” she beamed. “Damn, that was hot.” She curled her body into his, her face flushed and glorious. A strand of her hair fell over her smile, which she moved back into place. She laid a soft kiss on his lips, and then reclined on the pillows.
Flynn escaped to the bathroom to clean up and discard the latest condom. He returned with a damp cloth to clean her silky center. Her vulva was plump, pink, and wet. So beautiful. The urge to lick and lave there nearly overwhelmed him. She trembled when he caressed the area with the warm towel.
A gasp escaped her, followed by a giggle. “Mmm, more.”
He smiled and wiped her again, her moan like a love song to his ears.
“I could listen to your sounds for days.”
She laughed. He climbed in beside her and held her until she drifted to sleep. Her legs entwined with his, naked and beautiful in his arms.
No dream can hold a candle to Alanna.
LOZANO DESCENDED THE GANGPLANK STEPS, his breathing erratic. Normally the prospect of closing in on a prize invigorated him. At least that’s what the capture of Solana had done for his stamina.
Not this time.
For some unknown reason.
Even just before dawn, the Palawan air was sticky. The private plane had flown overnight to land at a former client’s isolated airstrip.
Former. Now deceased.
He smiled.
A small car waited at the opposite end, with Ricardo and Julius beside it. Lozano seethed inwardly at his son’s designer sunglasses and a floral buttoned shirt. At least the boy had worn a black jacket over the ridiculous shirt, with leather shoes instead of flip-flops. Julius sported his signature dark suit, purple shirt and matching tie—probably the only set he had. Both men needed a lesson in dressing well.
Tiburón’s footsteps thudded down the steel steps, a large duffel bag thrown over his back.
Ricardo and Julius had gone ahead of him to secure accommodations and ensure the equipment for their next operation. His son glanced around, his head turning slowly like a surveillance camera, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Julius stayed by the vehicle, his body taut.
Lozano’s instincts prickled. “What’s wrong?”
“Father,” Ricardo cleared his throat. “U.N. Security Forces have retaken Solana. Bendetto is dead.”
Heat flooded Lozano’s body. He curled his fingers into fists.
“How?” He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted warm blood.
“The U.N. Security Council passed the vote in secret, and told everyone it was delayed. Diversionary tactic.”
Fucking politicians. Ricardo continued, taking his father’s silence as asking for more information.
“Prince André sneaked onto the island with some Royal Guards. Joined up with the remnants of the Solanian Army and slipped into the palace. Just as the U.N. Security forces arrived.”
“That spoiled pansy?” Lozano barked. “The man’s a drunk who can’t put on pants without bodyguards.”
“U.N. Security forces arrived to suppress the mercenaries while—”
Lozano grabbed his son’s neck, jerking him to within inches of his face.
Perhaps now, my son will listen.
Ricardo’s eyes widened.
“Ricardo!” The car door opened, the lovely fiancée obviously fearing for her lover. Julius slammed the door shut before she stepped out. The henchman was smart enough to keep her away from a family argument.
Everything was crumbling around Lozano. The fall of Rome, with his brutes scattering like cockroaches in daylight. He tightened his grip, and Ricardo wheezed.
“It would be so easy to snap your neck. You’re far from my first. But you are my son, and it’s my job to teach you. To discipline you when you fail me.”
“Please, Father,” his son croaked. “Let me fix this.”
“I’m surrounded by incompetence, including my own son!” Lozano’s spittle dotted Ricardo’s face. He shoved the boy to the ground, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt, pebbles pelting his son’s trembling body.
Ricardo coughed and struggled to his feet. “U.N. Security Forces distracted Bendetto’s army—”
“My army!”
“Your army,” Ricardo corrected. “Allowing the prince to invade the palace and kill Bendetto.”
“Where’s Raul?”
Ricardo took another step back. “No word.”
Lozano inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. “Don’t shy away from me, you coward. Face your father like a man.”
His phone vibrated in his suit pocket. Raul’s picture filled the screen. “Where are you?”
“Your general failed.”
“You failed,” Lozano thundered into the phone. “You were sent to ensure his success.”
“He grew cocky.” Splashes and surging engines filled the background. His youngest son was on a boat. Saving his own bloody skin. “Bendetto tried to tighten his rein on our soldiers without giving them incentives. When the shit got real, they bailed.”
“You were supposed to keep him in line.”
“Some dogs enter a fight of their own making. The handler needs to let them learn a lesson.”
; “Or cut their losses and run,” Lozano corrected. “Don’t you preach at me, boy.” He rubbed his eyebrows hard, casting several hairs to the ground.
Like father, like son.
“The next time you want to teach a dog lesson while wasting my money and risking my neck on a year-long effort,” he bellowed into the phone. “DON’T! You do as you’re told!”
“Yes, sir.” The only sound on the other end of the phone was more splashing.
Lozano almost smiled as he pictured the acquiescence on his son’s face. Most of the time he appreciated the defiance in his youngest child, his wick of anger easily lit…and useful.
“Where are you?” he continued, his chest aching. “I’ll send the plane for you.”
“No need.” Several voices filled the background, speaking what sounded like Indonesian. “I’m going to rally up some more recruits, and meet you in Manila.”
Lozano snorted. Translation: I’m going to hide from your wrath, and party my dick off while you calm down.
“Manila’s compromised. Go to the hill estate in Cebu.” Suddenly dizzy, Lozano locked his leg in place and inhaled deeply. I’m travelling too much. The humidity and stress…bad combination.
“We’ll have another shot at Solana,” Raul interjected, too blasé. “While we regroup, I’ve left a few sleepers on the island. They’ll keep me informed, and won’t make a move unless we say so.”
“Good,” Lozano rasped. “Very good, boy.”
“Are you all right?” Raul asked, just as Ricardo helped him to his feet. How did I end up on my knee?
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Get your ass to Cebu.” Lozano hung up and placed the phone in his pocket. His chest felt tight, but the dizziness faded.
The car door opened, and Ricardo’s fiancée, Sophia, stepped out with her gold wedge sandals. Her Thai-style burgundy dress left one shoulder bare. Gold and silver accents covered the material down to her knees, and a gold ribbon belt made her tiny waist appear even thinner.
She approached him with a bottled water. The diamond engagement ring glittered on her finger, even with no sun. Long, dark hair reached her waist. Her pretty face reminded him of his wife. “For you,” she said softly.
Ricardo pulled her into his side, though it could have been more of a protective instinct than affection. After all, Lozano had threatened to cut off her finger. She was quite a lovely thing. Although with the disastrous news weighing on him, she was an unwelcome distraction.
Lozano took the bottle. “Get back in the car.”
Her smile disappeared. Ricardo kissed the top of her forehead, and Julius escorted her to the vehicle. When she was inside, and unable to hear their conversation, Lozano downed the water to regain his concentration.
“We have to find the princess. It’s the only remaining leverage we have. With André back in control, that will be his main priority, so we have to beat him to her.” He turned to Tiburón. “Get your brother and his chopper ready. I want that bitch in front of me in less than twenty-four hours.”
He turned to Julius. “The princess is key. But if you can retrieve her and the engineer—alive—then the plane is your bonus.” He cocked his head toward the G6 behind them. Julius never even looked at it, merely nodded at Lozano.
Ricardo glanced at the car.
“Don’t worry, son.” Lozano straightened, and adjusted his suit. “You, your precious fiancée and I will prep for royalty.”
WEARING ONLY HER PANTIES AND T-shirt, Alanna’s lips closed over Flynn’s fingers and bit into the juciest strawberry she’d ever tasted. Her stomach rumbled from lack of food, but the rest of her body ached.
And she loved every second.
Flynn slipped the rest of the strawberry in his mouth, satiated silence a warm blanket around them.
The deep orange sun skimmed the ocean. The sea sprayed against the windows. With nothing else in sight but wide waters, they could’ve been the only two left on earth, cruising toward its edge.
Every muscle was sore from their marathon afternoon of lovemaking. She’d had no idea it could be that incredible. Consuming. Nymphomaniacs had every reason to be addicted. At least if they had a partner as incredible as Gabriel Flynn.
“For someone’s first time,” Flynn started with half a smile. “You definitely have the appetite of a seasoned woman. And matching imagination.”
She laughed and bit into a star fruit from the food tray Marie had set outside their door at some point. The assortment of sliced meat, cheese cubes, and fruit relieved her ravenous appetite.
At least for some things.
“You’re clearly experienced,” Alanna returned. “How many women have you been with?”
Flynn smirked. “Not important.”
Her stomach turned. “That many?”
He shook his head. “Hardly.”
Flinging a half-eaten slice of roast beef back onto the tray, he leaned against the pillow. He’d put his shorts on, but his chest was bare. And distracting. Alanna didn’t mind that either. She could stare at him for eternity.
“Why does it matter?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m not used to relationships, and…” Just say it. “I don’t like the thought of you with other women.”
The way he studied her after her admission brought heat to her cheeks. “Why not?”
She blinked. Seriously?
“Well, obviously, I don’t want to share you.”
He chuckled. “I won’t share you, either. I mean why aren’t you used to relationships?”
She bit into another star fruit to keep from biting her lip. Her normal habit when feeling inadequate. “Dating is taboo for royalty. At least the modern version of dating. My brothers had more flexibility with women, but they still had to contend with my father’s rules. Me, on the other hand.” She snorted. “Not even an option until recently. Bottom line, anyone we dated had to be cleared through background checks, financial inquiries, and their families fully vetted before the relationship could go any further than an initial introduction.”
“Exhausting,” Flynn muttered.
Alanna nodded. “That’s what my eldest brother thought. André never put up with my father’s rules. Especially after my mother passed away. Tulio was the poster prince. A straight arrow. Met his wife, Claudia, through a royal function my father arranged.”
“An arranged marriage?” Flynn asked. “In the twenty-first century?”
“No, Tulio chose Claudia himself. But the introduction was controlled.”
“What about you?” He held her gaze, the question hanging between them like mistletoe at Christmas. “Did you get to choose who you dated? Or did your father pick?”
She dropped her gaze. “I’ve only had one boyfriend, or at least that’s what the news called him. We were both eighteen. His father was a rising member in Parliament. When he brought his son, Paulo, to the Easter celebration at the Royal Jardín, our fathers introduced us. A few controlled dates later we went to the opera. Though I’m sure he much would’ve preferred a One Republic or Maroon 5 concert.”
Flynn grunted with a smile.
“When the limo picked us up after the performance,” She traced her chin with her finger, “He kissed me.”
“Your first?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Nothing spectacular. But nice.” Then she scowled. “Paparazzi caught it on camera and it was in the papers for a month. We only saw each other a few times after that. Each encounter he was more distant. He certainly never kissed me again. Our last date, we were supposed to attend a movie premier, but we never made it. He sat in the palace drawing room and told me he didn’t want the attention anymore. His father had urged him to develop a relationship with me, and hoped we would eventually marry, but that’s not what Paulo wanted. His family had been bombarded with cameras, and all his friendships had been questioned and investigated. The last straw was when the media accused him of cheating on the princess with a girl he was merely carrying a box of groceries to her car. Slandered h
im in the press.”
Flynn grimaced, but he didn’t say anything. Bitterness scratched at her throat.
“We weren’t that close. At least not as much as the media portrayed. We never had the chance.” She smashed a cube of cheese under her finger. “I don’t blame him,” she said after a long moment of silence. “Anyone I marry will endure the same scrutiny. Be overrun with cameras in their face whenever they step outside. As much as I hate it, I have to put up with it. How can I ask someone to give up their privacy when they have the choice?”
“It still hurts, though.” Flynn sat up. “Being rejected.”
Alanna stared at him, the gaze in his eyes full of understanding. Flynn caressed her palm with his finger.
My lover. Such a forbidden phrase, yet not nearly enough to describe him.
“The good news is the rejection came before you had a chance to fall for him.”
Her heart stuttered from his soft touch. “I suppose.”
She turned her head. The night Paulo had rejected her was almost two years ago to the day. The same night she’d ended up eating dinner with her family for comfort. An eerie silence had hung over the table. Even the usually energetic Tulio was quiet, with a scowl that matched their father’s at the head of the table.
She remembered thinking their anxiety was about the kiss with Paulo captured in the news, plastered everywhere on Solana. Another disappointment to the family name, the royal image possibly tarnished again, first by André and then by their only princess.
They’d had meetings all day with a bunch of foreign dignitaries, but only the ambassadors from the United States and Philippines were granted private audiences at the palace with both the king and crown prince—and a third man with a serious face, a simple black suit, and a file as thick as the Bible in his hand. She didn’t know where he was from, but his dark hair and defined cheekbones made her guess an Italian ancestry. By the time her father and brother had come to dinner, she knew something was wrong. Tulio was pale and her father furious. Halfway through the uneaten meal—grilled salmon, her father’s favorite—he’d cleared his throat and turned his sharp gaze on Alanna.
There will always be people who want to tear us down, he’d begun, his voice shaky but his eyes steady. “People who will belittle and intimidate, just because it makes them feel better or more important. You must never back down to those people. Never let them make you sacrifice who you really are, just because they have a big mouth.
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