by A. C. Arthur
When she closed the door, she stayed there, leaning against it with her arms folded firmly across her chest. When he realized she hadn’t followed him farther into the sitting area of the room, Gary turned and looked at her. That’s when he noticed that her hair was down, hanging around her shoulders in squiggly strands that told him it was wet. She wore a light pink robe that looked fluffy and soft wrapped around her body.
His gaze shot back up to her face. No makeup. The folds of the robe dipped low so that her long neck and a sizable portion of skin were visible.
Bare.
Naked.
Gary swallowed hard at the thought that she was naked beneath that robe.
“Tell me you’re okay. That what happened earlier is now pushed out of your mind and you’re not afraid, not worried,” he said quickly. “And tell me the truth, Samantha. I really need you to be perfectly honest with me right now.”
Because if she didn’t he would have to stand in this room even longer. And Gary was certain that if he did that, they wouldn’t remain standing. He would not remain clothed and she would not continue to hold him at bay with a look or crossed arms.
He probably should have listened to his inner reason and logic before coming to her quarters.
“I’m fine,” she said and then hurried to continue. “I wasn’t earlier, that’s true. I was shaken up. But I’ve had a chance to calm down and to try to relax.”
“How did that work for you?” he asked, holding her gaze.
Her eyes seemed wider now, her lashes long even without the makeup she usually wore. The skin of her face was smooth in its natural mocha hue.
She cleared her throat. “It worked,” she replied. “I feel much better.”
“Really?” he asked and took a step closer.
His mind screamed, What the hell are you doing? But his body was in full control now.
“Because I keep trying to relax when I’m around you. It doesn’t work. Hell, I can’t relax when I’m away from you.”
“Gary,” she started and tried to back away as he approached. But she was at the door. There was nowhere to go unless she planned to run out into the hallway.
“Samantha,” he said her name and could hear the complete desperation in his voice. It was different and just a bit on the side of scary, but Gary admitted there was nothing he could do about that. Not now.
“When I first saw you, I knew you were going to be different,” he admitted. “I’ve watched you every day for the past two months. I’ve listened to you talk. Seen you eat, laugh, smile. Every time, everything is so potent, it’s like a surprise body blow.”
“Stop right there,” she said and held up a hand.
That hand shook and Gary stopped.
He was less than a foot away from her.
She licked her lips nervously and spoke in a voice that was less than composed.
“I saw you around the palace time after time. But I never knew who you were or why you were here. I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you at the dinner and then I just...”
“You kissed me.”
“I did,” she admitted with a nod.
“And you liked that kiss,” he continued. “Truth. Only the truth. Here. Now. Between us.”
She squared her shoulders and gave a little shake of her head as she replied, “I liked it. I didn’t mean to, but...I did.”
He lifted a hand, touching his fingers lightly to her chin, moving one finger until it ran along the line of her bottom lip.
“The next time I kissed you,” he spoke quietly.
She sighed. “I liked that, too.”
“So did I,” he replied eagerly. “I liked it so much, I can’t stop thinking about doing it again. And again.”
“We shouldn’t,” she told him, the hand that she’d been holding up now crushed between their bodies.
“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping from her eyes to his finger on her lip. “But I don’t think I can stop it. I don’t think we can stop.”
“We have to.” She gasped. “I should have never started this,” she whispered.
As she spoke, his finger moved quickly, touching the tip of her tongue.
Blood pounded loud and fast in his ears and Gary leaned in closer, until his lips were only an inch from hers.
“It doesn’t matter who started what and when. Now it’s time to finish it.”
Chapter 8
“It doesn’t matter who started it.” Gary spoke in a husky tone as he lifted her into his arms and moved toward her bedroom. “Tonight, it will be finished.”
He kissed her again and she eagerly joined in, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. The door to the bedroom was open and he walked quickly inside, tearing his mouth away from hers only long enough to catch sight of the bed and carry them both there. By the time his knees hit the side of the bed, he was going down with her, bracing his fall with his elbows on the mattress.
She gasped as their lips parted again. Then, with her hands at the nape of his neck, she pulled him close for another kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her on his tongue was intoxicating. The way she was kissing him back said she felt the same. Thrusting his hands between them, Gary quickly undid the belt of the robe and pushed the material aside.
He moaned when his hands touched the bare skin of her torso.
She felt like silk, he thought as he pulled back, nipping her bottom lip one last time before breaking their contact completely. For what seemed like forever he stared down at her flawless skin. She was beautifully made, he thought as he trailed his fingers down from her neck, between the valley of her breasts and farther until he circled her navel. She was quiet as he continued to explore, as if she were waiting and wondering what he thought.
“I won’t say you’re beautiful,” he told her when he looked up to see her staring at him.
“I didn’t ask you to,” she replied and reached for the edges of the robe.
She attempted to pull it around her, to cover the exquisite sight before him, but Gary stopped her. He held her wrists down at her sides and leaned in so that his nose almost touched hers.
“I won’t say it because I’m sure you’ve been told that by other men. Many other men,” he continued and tried like hell to swallow the ball of jealousy that had just formed in his throat. “I don’t want you thinking of any of them now. Not when I’m with you. Not when I’m inside you.”
The final words came out in a rough gravelly tone as the last lines of control in him began to fray.
“I don’t sleep around,” she said.
Gary shook his head. “No. You don’t,” he agreed.
Not for one moment did he believe that Samantha was the type to entertain multiple sex partners. He knew that, even without also knowing that there had been hardly any stories printed or spoken to the contrary. In fact, for a princess, there was surprisingly little knowledge in the world about the personal life of Samantha DeSaunters. She was known for keeping the personal away from the public, even while traveling the globe and constantly staying in the spotlight on behalf of her island.
He released her wrists and continued to push the robe off her body completely. There were simply no words for how good she looked, from the dark tips of her nipples down to the soft pink coat of polish on her toenails. She was simply delectable.
When he gave in to another urge and cupped one perfectly sized breast and leaned in to kiss the nipple of the other, she gasped and arched into his touch. He sucked her nipple into his mouth, gorging on the delicious taste of her. His other hand kneaded the softness until his erection was pressing so painfully against the zipper of his pants he wanted to yell out in agony.
She cupped her hands at the back of his head, holding him in place. Feeding him. Gary moaned. When she grabbed th
e wrist of his hand on her breast, he almost removed his mouth from her to ask what she was doing. Instead he waited a beat and realized she was leading him. Down her torso, past her navel, over the thin layer of curls at her mound, between the soft petals of her core. Gary fingered her clit and she sucked in a breath with a sound and motion so quick and potent he thought he might come in his pants from the excitement.
Wet, delicious desire soared through him as he touched her intimately. She’d moved a leg, dragging it across the mattress so that he had unfettered access to her. Gary kept his eyes closed and his tongue on her breast as his fingers glided over her wetness.
“Please.”
It was said in the barest whisper and, for a moment, Gary thought he’d imagined it. But she’d grabbed his hand again, placing his fingers directly over the tightened bud of her clit once more. He tore his mouth away from her breast at that moment and moved so that now he could see what his hand had been enjoying. Again, she was exquisite, especially the way she was sprawled over the bed, her dark purple comforter a contrast to her creamy brown skin.
Gary watched his fingers moving over her and then slipped two fingers inside her. She grabbed the comforter in her hands and arched up off the bed. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth, her eyes closed as she moaned. Gary knew exactly what she was feeling at this moment. She wanted to come and he wanted nothing more than to oblige her.
With his other hand, he placed two fingers on her clit and rubbed in sync with his thrusting fingers. His tongue moved over his now-dry lips as he continued to watch his hands on her and listened to her complete enjoyment. When her thighs began to tremble, Gary moaned louder than Samantha did. It was so sweet and yet so primal, touching her this way and watching her ride toward her climax.
She was shaking her head now, her still-damp hair splayed around her in a wild halo. Her body stiffened and Gary continued his motions, loving the feel of even more moistness, warm and sticky on his fingers.
A few seconds later, breaths heavy but her limbs relaxed, Gary watched her come down from her climax. Slipping his hand out of her and leaning over her once more, he kissed her softly on the lips. She moaned again and kissed him back.
Something in that kiss, in the way she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight, changed everything Gary had previously thought about the princess.
Every damn thing.
* * *
She’d soared.
No, she’d damn near flown right out of the stratosphere by the simple touch of his hand. Or his hands, rather. His fingers...those dangerously excitable fingers.
Her body felt like Jell-O. Quickly dissolving Jell-O. He was now kissing her. Sam’s body warmed with what she knew was probably the glow from a supreme climax.
“Oh, no,” she gasped as she abruptly pulled away from the kiss. “I’m sorry.”
He looked perplexed and Sam had to swallow the bitter taste of embarrassment as she quietly asked, “What about you?”
He appeared to be trying to figure out what she was saying and Sam almost groaned. She did not want to actually have to say it, because it was hard enough dealing with the fact that she’d done it. Or rather she hadn’t done it.
Sigh.
This might be more embarrassing than the pictures of her kissing Miguel being on the front page of that French newspaper.
“Oooohhh, that,” he said finally and began shaking his head. “No worries. I’m good.”
He was lying, she thought. And he wasn’t very good at it.
Following her instincts, which she had been doing since he’d backed her up against the door, Sam let her hand move between them until her fingers scraped lightly over his still-burgeoning erection.
“No worries,” he repeated once more and casually moved her hand away.
“Not worried,” she told him as she moved to locate her robe and securely wrap it around her once more. “Just wanted to be fair.”
“Life’s rarely fair,” he replied glibly.
She tried running her fingers through her hair that she knew must look hideous right about now, but her fingers got stuck in the snags. Then she thought better than to try the painful act of detangling in front of him.
At his remark she shrugged. “That’s cynical, but fair to say, I guess.”
“I get the impression that you agree much more than you’re letting on,” he replied.
“No.” She sighed and moved to sit on the other side of the bed. “I don’t know what gave you that impression.”
“The way you deal with your soon-to-be stepmother,” he replied. “Is it that you just don’t like her or do you simply not believe in true love and a blissful marriage?”
“For the record,” she said, tossing him a look over her shoulder, “this is the worst after-sex conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Touché,” he said with a smile and a nod of his head. “I can do better.”
Because she liked his smile way too much, Sam waved a hand at him. “It’s okay, I’ll answer. I don’t like Malayka. She’s controlling and opinionated.”
He only stared at her and Sam sighed.
“Okay, so I can be controlling and opinionated, as well. I can admit my own flaws and still not like her for the same reasons. And, no, I don’t believe in love and happy-ever-after. Not for everyone, anyway,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound scorned.
Truth be told, Sam hadn’t been in love with Miguel. And thanks to her time with him, she’d never given herself the opportunity to fall in love with anyone else. That meant, at twenty-five years old, she’d never been in love.
“How about you?” she asked, deciding they’d spent enough time on her.
He rubbed both hands down his face and leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. They were both sitting on the side of the bed now, just a few inches apart. It was intimate—the fact that they were in her bedroom and on her bed.
“Do you believe in true love?” At his silence, she almost slapped herself on the forehead. “Oh, no, please tell me you don’t have a girlfriend or are married. I didn’t see a ring but that doesn’t mean anything. You could be allergic to metal or something weird like that. Just please tell me—”
He held up a hand to stop her and turned to look at her. “Stop. No, I don’t and I’m not. If I were I would have never suggested we take on this charade.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding after he’d cut her off. Okay, he wasn’t married. And, yeah, not okay, the charade.
“Look—” she began.
He held that hand up again. “Do you want me to answer the rest of your question first?”
Sam snapped her lips shut and nodded.
“I do believe in true love. My parents had it,” he told her. “They were married for forty-two years before my father died of a heart attack. Two years after that my mother was diagnosed with colon cancer. She died three years later.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that, Gary. I really am. And I’m sorry I made you talk about it.”
“You didn’t make me do anything. You asked a question. I had the choice of whether or not I would answer it.”
He was right, so Sam said nothing else. This entire situation was just too weird. They were pretending to be lovers for the sake of the press and that sleazy Morty. It was all a ruse. Yet here they were, sitting on the side of her bed, while she was naked beneath her robe, her body still humming contentedly from the fantastic orgasm he’d given her.
“So what do we do now?” she asked.
After a moment or so he stood. A quick glance, which she probably shouldn’t have taken, told her his arousal had abated. Why did that not make her happy?
Sam sighed and ran her fingers over her hair. What the hell was she doing? None of this was going the way it should, and for the first ti
me she realized she wasn’t actually in control of the situation.
“I’m going to head back to my room. Even though we’re having an affair, I shouldn’t be seen coming in and out of your bedroom.”
“We’re in the palace,” she told him.
Why? Because she wanted him to stay? No, she definitely did not want him to spend the night. But talking to him hadn’t been so bad. It had actually been the first time she’d been able to address—even if only in her mind—what Miguel had put her through and how it had eventually affected her entire life.
“House staff are the next likely suspects when any type of conspiracy or intrigue is going on with a family. Prostitutes are the first,” he said in that tone he used often.
It was aloof and noncommittal. She didn’t like it, but who was she to complain? Hadn’t she built her entire life on a façade? The smile, the pleasantries, the goodwill—all at the supreme cost of ever hoping to have a real personal life. Sure, it was her duty, but it wasn’t her choice.
Sam stood, too, and nodded her agreement to what he’d said. Pulling her robe tighter around her body, she looked up at him.
“I’m glad this—” she motioned between them and the bed “—isn’t awkward for either of us.”
“We’re adults who are capable of making our own decisions. That’s what we did.”
“And tomorrow things will be business as usual.” She’d said it as a statement but in her mind she was asking a question. She was wondering if this had all happened for a reason. If Gary Montgomery so simply walking into her life and through the shield she’d long ago erected around herself was some act of fate. Her mother had believed wholeheartedly in fate, and, up until this very moment, so had Sam. Now she wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.
“Tomorrow, I’ll find out who the hell was shooting at you,” Gary told her simply.
Sam once again nodded. She dismissed her personal thoughts and returned to the present issues surrounding her family. The real reason Gary was there.
“My schedule is clear tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about following me around. I’ll be staying in the palace,” she told him, even though she knew he had access to the calendar and could see that for himself. He likely already had.
