Natalie Anderson - Mr Right All Along

He would never treat her as a disposable sex partner who’d happened to get pregnant. Never let anyone else. The playgirls of minor princes in Europe were often passed from one wealthy lover to the next like possessions—the toys du jour. It wasn’t a scene he had any part of, for all his carefree reputation. The thought of any of those men laying a finger on her scalded his flesh.

Nor would he let the press hound her. Already they reported endlessly on any possible affair of his. Her private life would be up for public speculation, gossip and innuendo. Without palace protection—and control—she might succumb to the need to feed the machine. She might be tempted to sell her story.

Never happening.

She needed the protection of his ring. So did the child. And he would ensure they had it, so that when this ended she would have the dignity and respect of having been his wife. She would have honour, a permanent position. He would ensure the blame for the break-up would be his burden alone.

And she’d admitted her attraction to him. Satisfaction scoured his anger. Rampant sexual anticipation reared. He ached for her surrender to his kiss, to his wishes, to her own pleasure.

Rough desire drew him to mutter in her ear. ‘Your body has known no other but mine. Your body craves mine. And the baby it carries is mine,’ he said rawly, his reason lost. ‘You are mine.’

‘I am not a thing to be owned...’ A shaken whisper, and then her face lifted—unbearably, kissably close to his.

‘No, you are a woman to be treasured. Respected.’

‘I am a soldier,’ she corrected through gritted teeth.

‘You are determined to fight?’ Adrenalin primed his muscles. A bed was the best battleground for them.

‘I’m not that immature. But it is my job to protect. Defend.’

‘What is it that’s so in need of protection? What defence is required when you know I only want what’s best for this baby? When you know I will move heaven and earth to ensure it is safe? Perhaps it is not the child you are protecting. Perhaps it is yourself.’

Her vividly blue eyes widened. ‘I’m not afraid of you.’

‘No? Are you not a little afraid of this?’ He slid his hand over the curve of her butt and around her beautiful long thighs, slipped his fingers up in between them. Even through the old denim he could feel the heat of her. ‘Is that what all this bluster is about? You said yes to me, but was it too intense that day on the beach? Did sweet, virginal Stella get more than she bargained for?’ Ordinarily he’d offer a smile with this teasing, but he was too hard, too serious, because he feared this was the truth. ‘Is that why you ran away?’

Her beautiful mouth parted. Her shadowed eyes locked on his. ‘I’d had what I wanted,’ she said. ‘All that I wanted. So I left.’

‘All you wanted?’ He shook his head. He really didn’t think so. Not when he could feel her so tense with need in his arms now.

‘Sex has consequences,’ she whispered.

‘Not just physical,’ he agreed softly. ‘Not just the baby.’ He sighed. ‘You were very inexperienced.’

Hot emotion flashed in her eyes. ‘That doesn’t make me an idiot. Or a coward.’ She tossed her head and inched her feet apart, inviting him to stroke her even more intimately. ‘Take me now and see how scared I am.’

The thin threads of his self-control started to snap.

He’d swum length after length to take the edge off the desire that had dominated him since he’d clapped eyes on her again. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her alone. Maybe she needed something else.

He skimmed his fingers higher, stroked harder. He smiled, almost purring at her sigh, at the rotation of her hips that gave her away completely.

‘If I were to kiss you there now—’ his voice roughened ‘—I think I would find you wetter than you were in that shower.’

He was pushing too close to his own limits. To hers. But he couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. He’d give anything for a taste. He watched her through hooded lids, seeing her lips part in invitation, hearing her breathing quicken to match her small movements as he stroked her.

‘Don’t...’ she said brokenly. ‘Stop.’

Eduardo momentarily closed his eyes, breathing in her delicate scent as her words echoed in his head. Just two words, yet their meaning could be read in two—polar opposite—ways. He had to err on the side of caution.

So he stopped.

Her groan—and the look of pure chagrin in her eyes—told him he’d made the wrong choice. But it was the right one for now.

‘Poor Stella.’ He put his hands on her shoulders for a second, to ensure she had her balance. ‘It has been a tough day.’

She gasped. ‘I hate you.’

He half laughed. That comeback was so weak, and it told him so much he was unable to resist rubbing his hand down her back again. So lithe and warm and willing, and everything he wanted. ‘Hate away. You still want me.’

He was dying of want for her.

‘You’re going to hate being married to me.’ Her breathing hitched again.

But he was going to love giving her a wedding night she’d never forget.

By signing those confidentiality clauses and the prenup contract she’d acquiesced to the control he needed. He’d reward her. He’d indulge every sensual fantasy with her like this—moving and moaning, her body hot, her eyes hungry. So hungry she hurt. He’d help her understand the pleasure of this kind of passion and then it could burn itself out within the safety of their marriage. Ultimately their child would be cared for. Their futures would be assured.

His plan was perfect.

‘You will have me,’ he promised huskily, drawing on all his self-control so he was able to step back. ‘Once we are married.’

Stella stifled another embarrassing moan of disappointment as Eduardo gently pulled his hand away from the small of her back. Her heart beat wildly...her body felt jumpy. So easily he had seduced her into agreeing—again. So easily he had won. So easily he could have her stupidly weak body.

‘But not before then, Stella.’

He knew how much she wanted his touch, knew he could wield the power of it over her. That he could control his own desire for her was alarming. He totally had the upper hand. All the fight fell from her. All that was left was an unbearably empty ache. She might almost cry. But Stella never cried.

‘I’m going to bed,’ she mumbled.

‘Not yet.’

She shook her head. ‘You can’t keep ordering me around. I won’t do what you say. I’m not your servant. Not your soldier. I’m Stella. Your equal.’

He stepped back and held out his hand, that roguish smile curving his lips. ‘Please.’

Eduardo the ‘Fun in San Felipe’ poster boy was back. Charming, slightly wicked, irresistible.

Finally she realised. He used it to get his own way—knew he could seduce her into saying yes to anything. So perhaps the best strategy was for her to let him think he was getting his way and work on her resistance from inside the marriage. It was only a temporary thing anyway, wasn’t it? Maybe if she played it right she’d be able to convince him to let her and the child live in some nice house on one of the smaller islands after they divorced. If she was agreeable now—

‘Stella.’

She took his hand and he led her back along the terrace and then into the library. Her pulse skipped again at that simplest of touches. While she was relieved he’d wrapped the towel around his waist, it sat too snug and low on his hips, revealing his rock-hard, ridged abs. She forced her eyes front.

A sleek black case was on the desk. Eduardo pressed his thumb on the edge of it and Stella heard electronic beeping, then the unmistakable sounds of locks sliding open.