The Prince's Royal Dilemma

by Brenda Harlen

  “Let me. I’ve been thinking about getting you out of this dress since I first saw you in it.”

  Her hands fell back down at her sides. “You’re sure taking your time about it.”

  He chuckled softly. “I don’t plan on rushing anything tonight.”

  But he did—finally—unzip her, then parted the fabric to slide his hands along her skin.

  “I want to savor every moment.”

  His lips skimmed down her throat, his tongue flicking over the fluttery pulse beating there.

  “All…”

  He pushed the straps over her shoulders.

  “…night…”

  And the silk whispered as it slid down her body to pool at her feet.

  “…long.”

  He lifted his head, his eyes skimming over her bra and panties, his lips curving in appreciation of the pale peach-colored lace. Then he took her hand and guided her over to the bed.

  Her heart pounded. Her knees trembled. Her stomach was a tangle of nerves. But far stronger than her trepidation about making love for the first time was the anticipation of making love with Rowan.

  She wasn’t fanciful enough to believe in love at first sight, but she was honest enough to acknowledge there had been something between them from the very beginning. Her feelings for the prince might have begun as an innocent infatuation, but they had changed over the years, deepening and sharpening to this desperate, edgy need that pulsed inside her now.

  He traced a finger along the lacy edge of her bra, a featherlight caress that skimmed over the curve of one breast, dipped into the shallow valley between them and followed the next curve up again. She just stood there, biting her lip, as tiny electric shocks danced in her veins. Then he traced the same route again with his mouth. And the delicate, moist flicks of his tongue nearly drove her wild.

  Her breasts felt heavy, achy, and her nipples strained against the lace, practically begging for his touch. Finally he unfastened the clasp at the front of her bra and let it fall to the ground. She felt the heat and the hunger in his stare, but still he didn’t touch her, not the way she so desperately wanted him to touch her.

  Instead he shifted his gaze and hooked his fingers in the edge of her panties. Slowly…very slowly…he eased the scrap of lace over her hips…down her thighs…and to the ground.

  The sensations swirling through her body clouded her mind so that rational thought was almost impossible. Still, she became aware of the fact that she was completely naked and he was still fully dressed. But when she reached for him, he caught her wrists in his hands again and shook his head.

  “If I get naked with you right now, this will be over almost before it begins.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I want you. Now.”

  His lips curved in a smile that was both smug and full of promise.

  “Let’s do it my way this time.” He nudged her onto the mattress. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

  She decided to take him at his word. After all, he was the one with the experience—and the immensely talented and exceptionally creative hands.

  Those hands skimmed over her now, making a leisurely and thorough exploration of her dips and curves. From her ankles to her knees to her thighs, heating her flesh everywhere that they touched, until she was burning with a desire she’d never imagined.

  She shivered when his tongue swirled around one nipple, and gasped when his teeth closed gently around the taut peak and fiery spears of pleasure rocketed through her body.

  As his lips and tongue and teeth continued their exquisite torment of her breasts, he slid a knee between hers, nudging apart her thighs. He parted the moist folds of swollen flesh and eased a finger into her. She sucked in a startled breath, then released it on a moan when he slowly withdrew. In and out. Slowly. Deeply. When she’d grown accustomed to that, he inserted two fingers. Slowly. Deeply. In and out. Until she felt everything inside her tense, then shatter.

  Her body was still trembling with the aftershocks when he finally stripped away his clothes. She blinked to clear the haze from her eyes, and sighed happily at the sight of the fabulously sculpted and gloriously naked male body. Then sighed again as her palms slid over the hard planes of his chest, the strong curve of his shoulders and the solid muscles of his back.

  He took a moment to sheath himself with a condom, then rose over her. The gentle exploration of his fingers had guaranteed she was ready for the act, but nothing could have prepared her for his size. The tip of his erection nudged against her, and she instinctively tensed, waiting for the painful thrust.

  Instead, he kissed her again.

  The masterful seduction of his lips swept away all of her fears and apprehensions on a misty fog of desire. Only when her body had completely relaxed and her heart had completely surrendered did he ease into her.

  There was a brief moment of pain when he pushed through the barrier of her virginity, and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. But she must have made some kind of sound, because Rowan immediately froze. And when she arched up, wanting to take him completely, he growled at her, “Hold still a minute.”

  She could tell that he was trying to do just that, and that the effort was costing him. His jaw was clenched tight and the muscles in his arms quivered from the strain of holding himself immobile above her. Though she appreciated his consideration, she wanted his passion. She wanted to know that the fiery desire that raged through her body also raged through his.

  “I don’t want to hold still.” She pulled his head down to kiss him again, then whispered against his lips, “I want you. All the way inside of me.” She let her hips gyrate slowly. “I want to feel…everything.”

  “You’re killing me.” But he gave in to her request—or maybe his own need—and let himself sink into her.

  Deep.

  Deeper.

  Then he began to move, long slow strokes gradually quickening, leading her from the edge of contented bliss toward the pinnacle of a greater unknown pleasure.

  It was so much more than she’d anticipated, more than she’d even hoped. New and exciting sensations bombarded her with every touch of his hands, every brush of his lips, every shift of his body. She gloried in his weight pressing down on her, the delicious friction of his damp flesh sliding over hers, the rapid beat of his heart against hers.

  She rose up, locked her legs around him, and snapped the last of his restraint. His mouth crushed down on hers. Their tongues tangled, their bodies fused. This was no longer a civilized seduction but a frantic primal mating.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders; her nails raked down his back. He nipped at her earlobe; scraped his teeth over her jaw. Desires warred. Needs clashed. Wants clamored. Until the battle pushed them both over the edge and into the abyss of ultimate pleasure.

  They made love again and again through the night, until their mutual exhaustion finally overwhelmed their seemingly insatiable need for each other, and they fell asleep, their bodies still tangled together.

  Rowan didn’t know how long they slept, and though the sky was still dark when he awoke, he knew it wouldn’t be for very much longer. He had to get back to his own apartment, to shower and prepare for his day. But he let himself linger a minute longer, watching Lara sleep, wanting what he had no right to want.

  And knowing he was damned.

  There was no doubt in his mind about that. He’d taken her selfishly, for his own pleasure, knowing that he would marry someone else. That she understood his obligation to do so was no excuse for what he’d done.

  He would burn in the fires of hell for that, but right now, with her warm and naked body snuggled close to his own, he felt as if he’d glimpsed a little piece of heaven.

  Even knowing that he’d broken so many unwritten rules, he couldn’t help wanting her again.

  He stroked a hand over her gently, marveling at the creamy perfection and warm softness of her skin. She stirred in response to the caress, then snuggled closer to him. His body respon
ded naturally, and it took every ounce of willpower he had—and obviously more than he’d possessed last night—to ease away from her.

  After he’d dressed, he went back to her bed and brushed a gentle kiss on her brow.

  Her eyelids flickered, then slowly parted to reveal those stunning moss-green eyes still misty with dreams.

  “I have to go,” he said softly.

  She pushed herself up and, when she realized the covers hadn’t moved with her, tugged the sheet up to cover her naked breasts.

  He didn’t try to prevent the smile that curved his lips. “Querida, there isn’t even a tiny freckle anywhere on your body that I didn’t see or touch or taste last night.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I’m a little new to this morning-after routine.”

  “I wish I could stay to help familiarize you with it.” He brushed his lips over hers. Once. Twice.

  She sighed dreamily, and the sweetness of the sound made him ache.

  “You have no idea how much I wish I could stay.”

  “I know you can’t.” She slid out of bed, allowing him a brief glimpse of creamy skin and tempting curves before she shoved her arms into her robe and belted it at her waist. She hesitated a moment before turning back to him. “Can I say something before you go?”

  “Of course.”

  She took his hands. He noticed that hers trembled, just a little, before they linked with his. “I just want you to know that last night was incredible. You showed me things I’d never even dreamed about, and I’ll always be grateful for that.” She looked up at him, and though her lips curved, there was a hint of sadness—or maybe it was resignation—behind the smile. “But I also knew the minute I saw you standing outside my door that whatever we shared together couldn’t be anything more than a stolen moment in time. I don’t expect anything more than that.”

  She was giving him permission to walk away without guilt or recriminations, and Rowan knew he should be grateful for that. But he wasn’t grateful—he was frustrated and angry and resentful of the circumstances that demanded he walk away from the woman who had somehow taken hold of his heart.

  He squeezed her hands gently. “I wish I could give you more.”

  And that, not just the words but the raw honesty in his voice, was what made him a prince even more than the fact that he’d been born royal—and only one of the reasons Lara loved him. But she didn’t tell him that. She wouldn’t burden him with the feelings that were her own. She didn’t want any regrets or remorse to mar the beauty of what they had shared.

  “You have a country to run and a wedding to plan,” she said lightly, hoping her forced cheer concealed the heaviness in her heart.

  “I wish—”

  Quickly—almost desperately—she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. Whatever he wanted to say, she didn’t want to hear it. Because she understood only too well about wishes—and that wishing couldn’t make dreams come true. “You have to go now.”

  He nodded. But he kissed her again before he left—softly, deeply, thoroughly.

  She didn’t try to go back to sleep after he’d gone. Instead, she watched the darkness of night give way to the light of day and tried not to yearn for what she couldn’t have.

  Elena Leandres scowled at the young woman seated in her parlor, a cup of her favorite imported coffee already in her hand. The princess drew in a deep breath and reminded herself that though the other woman was a business associate of sorts, she was also a commoner and possibly unfamiliar with protocol. She wasn’t entirely convinced it was true but found it easier to tolerate ignorance than insolence. In any event, until Elena knew that the task had been completed, she could tolerate a fair amount.

  She settled herself into her favorite wing chair and accepted the cup of fragrant Jamaican Blue Mountain roast a servant handed to her.

  She took a long sip of her coffee, savoring the flavor, before turning to her guest. “I wasn’t expecting a report at seven o’clock in the morning,” Elena told her. “Did the prince regent have an early meeting today?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Chantal said flatly.

  Elena set her cup back in the saucer. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean nothing happened. The prince accompanied me home at the end of our date, saw me up to my apartment, then gave me a very chaste kiss on the cheek and walked away.”

  “That wasn’t our plan.”

  Chantal tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Believe me, I wasn’t too happy about the way the night ended, either.”

  “Obviously you didn’t try hard enough.”

  “I could have had any man in that room.”

  “And yet the prince somehow managed to resist your irresistible charms?”

  “It seemed that his attention was focused a little closer to home.”

  “It’s too early for riddles,” Elena snapped. “If you have something to say, say it.”

  But Chantal took another sip from her cup before doing so. “I got the impression he has something going with one of his staff,” she finally said. “Some wide-eyed Irish girl, all sweetness and innocence.”

  Elena’s mind was already racing ahead, considering the possibilities, but she remained cautious. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I didn’t actually see them going at it,” Chantal said drily. “But there were some pretty serious vibes passing between them.”

  “Do you know who she is? What her name is?”

  “Lana or Laura. Something like that.” She gave a dismissive shrug. “I don’t remember, but I know she’s the nanny.”

  The prince regent was sleeping with the nanny of his brother’s children?

  Elena smiled. This might work out even better than her original plan.

  August thirtieth was the date that had been set for the royal wedding. A little more than four months away, and Henri liked to remind Rowan of the deadline every morning, hoping it would encourage the prince regent to focus his attention on finding a bride. Instead, Rowan was haunted by memories of the night he’d spent in Lara’s bed—of her soft lips yielding to his, her naked body moving beneath his, her heart beating in rhythm with his.

  He’d thought it would be enough to have her once, that the experience would satisfy his craving for her and his infatuation would fade. Instead, he only wanted her more.

  He’d wanted to believe it was the forbidden nature of the attraction that made her so hard to resist. But in the darkness of night, in the warmth of her arms, he’d realized it was—and had always been—Lara. She was so sweet and loving and giving, and somehow, she’d completely taken hold of his heart.

  It was that realization that worried him more than the illicitness of their relationship that made him determined to stay away. But when he finally left his office shortly after midnight, he found himself detouring past her rooms on the way to his own.

  She let him in, no questions asked, and moved willingly into his arms. She was inexperienced but uninhibited, and Rowan realized that nothing he’d ever experienced was more arousing than a woman discovering the pleasures of sex. Nothing was more satisfying than making love to a woman who tempted him to fall in love again.

  He had her out of her nightgown before they moved away from the door, then discarded his own clothes on the way to her bed.

  He’d once thought she was like Margot, and he’d resented her for that. He’d resented the fact that he only had to look at her and he wanted.

  Margot had been attracted to him because of his royal status, and she’d used his desire for her to manipulate him. She’d twisted his feelings for her own purposes, lied to him and deceived him, until there was nothing left in his heart but contempt. Her fraudulent claim that she was carrying his child was the final straw, and when Rowan had walked away from her the last time, he’d been certain he would never open up his heart again.

  And he’d never even been tempted to do so.

  Until Lara.

  He knew now that Lara wasn’t anything like Margot. She
seemed to want him almost in spite of his title. And she’d given him more than anyone else ever had, more than he’d had any right to take. With her he could forget everything else and just be. She didn’t seem to want anything from him, she only wanted him, and that was a new and novel experience for a man who had been born a prince.

  She drew him down onto the bed with her, and their bodies merged and moved together as if they’d been joined this way a thousand times before. If he let himself think about it, he might wonder about the fact that no one had made him feel this way before, and he might worry that he would never want—could never want—anyone but Lara again.

  But there was no room for such disquieting thoughts now. In this moment there was only Lara. She filled his mind, his heart, his soul.

  As he emptied himself into her, he realized that she had given him everything, and he wondered how he would ever be able to settle for anything less.

  Lara hadn’t expected that Rowan would come to her again. He’d taken a risk, spending most of the previous night in her room, and though she had absolutely no regrets, she wasn’t sure that he didn’t. Because he was a prince and required to abide by a whole different set of standards and rules, and sleeping with the nanny was against all of them.

  Now they’d broken those rules again, but she didn’t care. Nothing mattered but being in his arms and knowing she was wanted by this incredible man. The prince might take you to his bed, but he’ll never take you as his wife.

  She shook off the memory of Chantal’s scathing remark. She didn’t need to remember the words to know her relationship with Rowan wouldn’t last forever. For Lara, for now, being with him was enough.

  “I didn’t think you would come tonight,” she admitted, as she cuddled close to him in her bed.

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  She wasn’t bothered by his response. How could she be when his fingers were gliding over her skin, tracing a path from her shoulder to her hip, sending deliciously erotic tingles through every part of her body?

  “I’m not sorry.” She snuggled closer, so that the tips of her breasts rubbed his chest, and smiled when she felt his body responding.