His Thirty-Day Fiancee (9 page)

Almost certainly she should have gone straight to sleep after her conversation with Harold. Except her editor’s threat of plastering Jennifer’s picture all over a tabloid story sent bile frothing up Kate’s throat. She’d played it cool on the phone while reminding Harold of how much she could deliver. Then she’d cut the conversation short rather than risk losing her temper.

Before she could think, she’d rushed to the door, knowing only that she needed the reassurance of Duarte’s unflappable calm.

Setting aside his iPhone, he kept his eyes firmly planted on her. “I’m sorry my assistant forgot to order night wear. The hotel does supply complimentary robes.”

“Your assistant didn’t forget. This belongs to me. I had it tucked away in my camera case.” Kate tugged the hem of her well-worn sleep shirt down to her knees. A picture of a camera marked the middle, words below stating
Don’t Be Negative.
“Did everything go all right with your phone call?”

Hopefully his was less upsetting than hers.

“My father has taken a turn for the worse.” His body rippled with tension, his hands gripping the carved wood arms of his manor chair. “He has developed pneumonia. And yes, you can leak that to the press if you wish.”

Her heart ached that he had to suspect her motives when she only wanted to comfort him. He seemed so distant in his tux against the backdrop of formal damask wallpaper. She searched for the right words to reach him.

“I wasn’t thinking about my job. I was asking because you look worried.” Seeing the shutters fall, Kate padded past the brocade sofa to the fireplace. She held her chilly hands in front of the blaze. “What do you plan to do?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

Like what? She wasn’t in the mood for superficial discussions about art. How long could they shoot the breeze about the oil paintings in her room, or the lithographs in his? She’d noticed sailing art in his Martha’s Vineyard quarters. Maybe there could be something to those lighter conversations, and certainly she could use the distraction from worries about Jennifer.

“Hey,” Duarte said softly from behind her.

She hadn’t even heard him move.

The cedar scent of his aftershave sent her mind swirling with memories of how close they’d come to having sex in the elevator. She’d wanted him so much. The fire he’d stirred simmered still, just waiting to be rekindled. She was surprised to find herself with him so soon after. Had she come back in here purposely? Had she used her frustration over the call from Harold as an excuse to indulge what she wanted?

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Yes?”

Or perhaps she meant
Yes!

“Is something wrong? You seem upset.”

How had this gone from his concerns to hers? Was he avoiding the subject because he didn’t trust her? She decided to follow his lead for now and circle back around to discussing Enrique later.

“I’m just worried about Jennifer.” She stared back at the fire. “And what will happen if the press decides to write something about her. I have to admit, it’s more complicated than I expected, being on the other side of the camera lens.”

His angular face hardened with determination. “No one will get past my security people to your sister. I promise.”

If only it could be that simple. Nothing was simple about the achy longing inside her. “You and I both know I can’t count on your protection long-term.”

“After you publish those wedding photos, you’ll be able to afford to hire your own security team.”

No wonder he didn’t trust her. She’d been chasing him down for photos from the start with no thought to the implications for his family. And now her family, as well. She was responsible for putting Jennifer in the crosshairs. Her emotions raw, Kate shivered.

His arms slid around her. “Do you need a robe?”

The cedar scent of his aftershave wrapped around her as temptingly as his hold.

“Is the shirt that ugly?” She looked back at him, attempting to make light, tough to do when she wanted to bury her face in his neck and inhale, taste,
take.

“You look beautiful in whatever you wear.” He eyed her with the same onyx heat she’d seen during their elevator make-out moment. “I was only worried you might be cold.”

“I’m, uh, plenty warm, right now, thank you.”

His eyes flamed hotter. The barely banked craving spread throughout her. She couldn’t hold back the flood of desire and she swayed toward him. Duarte’s arms banded around her in a flash, hauling her toward him.

She met him halfway. Her arms looped around his neck, she opened her mouth and herself to him, to this moment. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so attracted to someone so fast, but then nothing about this situation with Duarte qualified as normal.

The warm sweep of his tongue searched her mouth as he engaged her senses. He gathered up her hair in his hands, his fingers combing, massaging, seducing. She pressed closer, his pants against her bare legs a tempting abrasion that left her aching for closer contact. She stroked her bare foot upward, just under the pants hem along his ankle. Hunger gnawed at her insides.

Without breaking contact, he yanked at his loose tux tie and tossed it aside, leaving no doubts where they were headed. Her life was such a mess on so many levels, she couldn’t bring herself to say no to this, to taking a few hours of stolen pleasure.

Her fingers crawled down the fastenings, sending studs and cuff links showering onto the floor like her hairpins in the elevator. She tore at his shirt. Finesse gave way to frenzy in her need to verify her memories of him undressing that first night. He took his hands from her long enough to flick aside the starched white cotton in a white flag of mutual surrender.

She peeled off his undershirt, bunching warm cotton in her hands and revealing his hard muscled chest. The chandelier hanging from a ceiling medallion cast a mellow glow over his chest. He didn’t need special photographer’s lighting to make his bronzed body look good.

Duarte was a honed, toned
man.

Kate swayed into him. Her stolen glance when he’d undressed had let loose butterflies in her stomach. Being able to look her fill fast-tracked those butterflies through her veins.

And his body called to her touch as much as it lured her eyes.

Entranced, she tapped down his chest in a rainfall path. Every light contact with the swirls of dark hair electrified the pads of her fingers. Pausing, she traced the small oval birthmark above his navel, an almost imperceptible darkening. Seeing it, learning the nuances of him, deepened the intimacy.

Her fingers fell to his pants.

Duarte covered her hands with his, stopping her for the moment. “We can stop this, if you wish. I don’t want any question about why we’re together if we take this the rest of the way. This has nothing to do with your job or my family.”

Pulling her face back, she stared into his eyes. “No threat of charging me with breaking and entering?”

Even as she jokingly asked him, she knew in her heart he never would have pursued that angle. If he’d wanted to go that route, he would have done so at the start. Somehow, this attraction between them had caught him unaware, too.

He winced. “I want to sleep with you, no mistake about it.” The hard length of him pressing against her stomach proved that quite well. “Now that it appears you’re in agreement, I need to be sure you’re here of your own free will. You have enough information and pictures to set yourself up for life. There’s the door.”

She could walk now. He was right. Except her life would never return to normal, not after the past few days. Leaving now versus in the morning or three weeks from now wouldn’t make any difference for Jennifer.

But having tonight with Duarte felt like everything to Kate. “I’m a little underdressed to leave, don’t you think?”

His hot gaze tracked over her, cataloguing every exposed inch and rousing a fiery response in its wake.

Bringing their clasped hands up between them, he kissed her wrists. “I’m serious, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s tough to miss.” She met and held his intense eyes. “Although in case you didn’t know it, I’m serious, too.”

“When did you figure out I was never going to turn over that tape to anyone?”

“A few minutes ago.” Hearing Harold’s threat against Jennifer, Kate realized what real evil sounded like. Duarte was tough, but he wasn’t malicious. If he’d wanted to prosecute her, he would have done so up-front from the start.

She kissed him once, hard, before pulling back. “No more talking about anything outside the two of us in this suite. I need to be with you tonight, just you and me together in a way that has nothing to do with your last name or any contacts I may have. This is completely private.”

“Then there’s only one last thing to settle.” His hands stroked down her sides until he cupped her hips. “Your bed or mine?”

She considered the question for a second before deciding. “I don’t want to engage some power play. Let’s meet here, on somewhat neutral ground.”

Aside from the fact that they were in his hotel, the symbolism of not choosing one bed over the other still worked for her. She waited for his verdict.

“I’m good with that.” He burrowed his hands under her T-shirt, whipping it up and off until she wore nothing but the champagne-colored satin strapless bra and matching panties.

The yellow diamond and filigree gold earrings teased her shoulders.

Like the sweep of Duarte’s appreciative gaze. And for some wonderful reason, this hot-as-hell prince was every bit as turned on looking at her as she was looking at him.

She reached, half believing she’d fallen asleep back in her room and was dreaming. Beyond that, what if she’d somehow imagined the magnetic shimmer while kissing him in the elevator?

Her fingers connected with his chest and—
crackle.
A tingle radiated up her arm. This was real. He was real. And tonight was theirs.

This time when she reached for the fastening on his pants, he didn’t stop her. His opening zipper echoed in the room along with the
pop, pop
of sparks in the fireplace. He toed off his shoes and socks as she caressed his pants down.

His hands made fast work of her bra and panties. “And now we’re both wearing nothing.”

He guided her toward him and pressed bare flesh to flesh. They tumbled back onto the sofa in a tangle of arms and legs. She nipped along his strong jaw, the brocade rough against her back, his touch gentle along her sides then away.

Following his hand, she saw him reach into the end table and come back with a condom. Thank goodness at least one of them was thinking clearly enough to take care of birth control. A momentary flash of fear swept through her at how much he affected her.

Then all thoughts scattered.

The thick pressure of him between her legs, poised and ready, almost sent her over the edge then and there. Her breath hitched as she worked to regain control. He thrust deep and full, holding while she adjusted to the newness of him, of them linked. She arched into the sensation, taking him farther inside her. Fingernails sinking deep half moons into his shoulders, she held on to the moment, held back release.

He kept his weight off her with one hand on the back of the couch, the other tucked under her. She rolled her hips under his and he took the cue, resuming the dance they’d started earlier, first in the ballroom, then in the elevator and now taking it to the ultimate level they’d both been craving.

Cedar and musk scented the air, and she buried her face deeper into his shoulder to breathe in the erotic blend. He kissed, nipped and laved his way up to her earlobe, his late-day beard rasping against her jaw. Her every nerve tingled with the memory of that first night in Martha’s Vineyard when he’d stroked up her neck. She should have known then she wouldn’t hold out long against the temptation to experience all of him.

Control shaky, she wrapped her legs around his waist and writhed harder, faster. Her knee bumped against the back of the sofa, unsettling their balance. She flung out her arms, desperate to hold on to to him, hold on to the moment.

“I’ve got you,” he growled in her ear as they rolled from the brocade couch.

He twisted so his back hit the floor, cushioning her fall. He caught her gasp of surprise and thrust inside her. Her hair streamed over him as she straddled his hips, rug bristly under her knees. He cupped her bottom, guiding her until she recaptured their rhythm.

Were his hands shaking ever so slightly? She looked closer and saw tendons straining in his neck with restraint.

She braced herself, palms against his chest. Delicious tremors rippled up her arms as his muscles twitched and flexed with her caresses. His hands slid around and over her again. He cradled her breasts, teasing and plucking her to tightened peaks that pulled the tension tighter throughout.

Her head lolled and her spine bowed forward. Each thrust of his hips sent her hair teasing along her back. In a distant part of her mind, she heard his husky words detailing all the times he’d watched and wanted her. She tried to answer, truly did, but her answer came out in half-formed phrases until she gave up talking and just moved.