Michelle Celmer - Tempted By The Royal

She laughed at his analogy—and because it was true. “It’s silly, I know, but you’re right.”

“It’s not silly at all,” he denied. “We all like to feel as if we have a purpose in life, a reason for being, and it can be difficult to accept that we aren’t as essential as we believed.”

She knew he was referring to his own life now, to the career that had abruptly been ended by his injury.

“Do you ever accept it?” she asked, aware that she was prying but unable to stop herself. “Can you ever find another purpose?”

There was more than a touch of wryness in his smile this time. “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

They continued to talk while they ate. The meal began with some kind of chilled soup that was a little bit spicy, followed by a main course of grilled sea bass—apparently one of Genevieve’s personal specialties—served with garlic lemon green beans and wild rice, and finished with an assortment of pastries, including slices of a baklava unlike anything Molly had ever tasted.

Through it all, Eric made her feel so comfortable and at ease that when he asked if she wanted to take a walk on the beach after dinner, she didn’t even consider refusing.

He left a pile of bills on the table that she guessed more than paid for the meal they’d shared. Then, after a quick stop in the kitchen to thank Genevieve for the incredible meal, they walked toward the water. The sun was only starting to set and the sky was a riot of glorious color. Eric took her hand to help her down the narrow steps that were a public access to the beach, and he didn’t let go when they reached the bottom. She didn’t protest or tug her hand away. It seemed silly to even consider doing so when they’d shared much deeper intimacies.

They hadn’t gone far, however, before she realized that Fiona’s sandals weren’t very practical on sand, so Molly kicked them off and was pleased when Eric discarded his shoes and socks to walk barefoot with her. They strolled along the water’s edge, sometimes talking, sometimes not, but he never let go of her hand.

They were almost back at the stairs when he stopped abruptly.

“Look,” he whispered close to her ear.

And her breath caught as she watched the sun complete its descent beyond the horizon.

“I have never seen a sunset like that,” she breathed the words quietly, almost reverently.

“And I have never seen anything like you framed by the sunset,” he said.

Then his mouth covered hers.

Just like the first time he’d kissed her, his lips were warm and firm, confident in their mastery. There was no tentativeness, no hesitant searching for the right angle, no questioning of her response.

And like the first time, there was no hesitation in her response.

It had been weeks—and yet, it somehow felt as if it was only yesterday. The warm strength of his arms around her wasn’t just familiar, it was right. And the explosion of sensations made her mind spin, her heart pound and her body yearn.

He found the pins that held her French twist in place and slipped them free so that her hair spilled into his hands. His fingers sifted through the tresses, caught the ends to tip her head back, changing the angle and deepening the kiss.

She sighed; he groaned.

She wanted him—there was no denying that fact. But she couldn’t let herself get caught up in the moment, the romance, the fantasy. There was too much at stake now.

Her system jangled with unacknowledged wants, unsatisfied desires, but she forced herself to take a step back.

“I want to go back to the palace now,” she said, though she knew the words were a lie.

What she really wanted was for him to kiss her again, until reality faded away and there was nothing but the two of them. She wanted to make love with him again, to experience the fulfillment she’d only ever known in his arms. But she knew that couldn’t happen, not while there was such a huge—and growing—secret between them.

Eric clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to grab hold of Molly and shake some sense into her. What was it about this woman that she was so determined to deny what was between them?

“Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“It was just a kiss, Eric. I hardly think we need to dissect and analyze every insignificant little detail of it.”

His nails dug into his palms. “Maybe it’s not necessary,” he allowed, somehow managing to match her casual tone despite the fury in his blood, “but I’m curious as to which part you think is most insignificant—your tongue in my mouth, your breasts plastered against my chest or your hips rocking against mine.”

Her eyes narrowed even as her cheeks flushed with color. “So I responded to you physically. That doesn’t mean I want to fall back into bed with you.”

“Oh, you want to,” he said, confident it was true. “But for some reason, you’re afraid to give in to the chemistry between us.”

“I just don’t want to make a big deal out of something that isn’t,” she insisted. “And right now, I really want to go back to the palace so I can go to bed alone.”

There was more going on, something beneath the surface but he was damned if he could figure it out.

He pulled on his socks and shoved his feet into his shoes, not caring that both were full of sand. The only thing that mattered now was getting Molly back to the palace so he could get away from the woman who was slowly driving him insane.

“Let’s go,” he said.

She followed silently.

Not a word was spoken as they walked back to the car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, Eric thought that if he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand women.

He knew that was a standard complaint of men around the world, but never had he understood it as he did now. Never had he known a woman like Molly who seemed to delight in sending out mixed signals. One minute she was in his arms, her lips soft and warm beneath his, her body yielding to his, and the next she was pushing him away as if she couldn’t stand his touch.

Mi Dios.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he guided the little sports car around the steeply winding curves of Ocean-view Drive. Below, the waves crashed against the rocks, but Eric’s own mood was too dark to allow him to pay heed to the vagaries of the sea.

He kept his gaze focused on the road, but he was conscious of Molly seated beside him. He was conscious of the tension in every inch of her body, of the quiet intake of every breath she took, of her subtle and unique scent. And mostly he was conscious of the desire that still thrummed in his blood.

He wanted her—more now even than the first time because he knew how incredible they could be together. And while she’d been kissing him on the beach, he’d been certain she wanted the same thing.

Until she said, “I’m ready to go back to the palace now,” in a tone that made it clear she didn’t mean to the privacy of his rooms.

And he could respect that. He had no intention of forcing his attentions on a woman who made it clear that she wasn’t interested. Except that Molly hadn’t made anything clear—she’d only made his head spin in circles and his body ache with wanting.

Still, he wasn’t going to waste any more time chasing after this woman. She knew what he wanted and he would just have to trust that she would let him know if she ever decided she wanted the same thing.

The touch of her hand on his arm made him jolt.

The fierce grip of cool, clammy fingers eradicated any illusions that she was giving him a signal to do anything but pull over to the side of the road. Now.