Laura Wright - Ruling Passions

And, yet, she wanted more.

More lying naked beside the most achingly handsome man she’d ever seen. More time where loneliness and uncertainty subsided and wonderfulness abounded.

More feeling like a woman, desired and consumed.

Reaching twenty-six years old with one pale love affair to her credit, she’d often fantasized about moments like this. She just never imagined one becoming reality. And now that it had, waking up wasn’t as easy as opening her eyes to the morning sunshine and safety of her nautical bedroom back home in San Diego.

Sophia’s thoughts faded as the man beside her disentangled himself from her grasp and sat up. His jaw was as tight as a lobster trap, his heather-colored eyes filled with dismay as he looked down at her. Her heart lurched and fell, and she felt very naked. Despite his gloriously handsome features, his expression was one of consternation.

But for his own actions or for hers, she wasn’t sure.

With her cheeks turning pinker by the second, she snatched up her bathing suit and hurriedly slipped it on as she tried for a casual tone. “I suppose you won’t believe me if I say that I’ve never done anything like this before?”

His eyes were blank now, no banter, no smile. “I must apologize.”

His husky brogue washed over her, heating her skin once again under her wet suit. “There’s no reason for an apol—”

“Of course there is.” He cursed, drove a hand through his thick, black hair. “You were practically drowning out there—”

“So were you.”

“—and I—”

“And we,” she corrected.

He paused for a moment, his gaze moving over her. “Who are you?”

A fool? she felt an impulse to exclaim. A shameless woman with absolutely no hindsight. A woman so desperate to live a little, she’d lost her mind…for a moment. “Maybe it’s better that we don’t know each other’s names.”

He released a haughty snort. “Impossible.”

“Not really. Don’t ask. Don’t tell.” Just give me five minutes to disappear, she thought dryly.

“I’m afraid that rule doesn’t apply here.”

“Why not?”

He stood up then, slipped on his jeans, all broad shoulders and lean muscle. Lord, the man could’ve been carved in bronze he was so well put together. Wavy black hair licked the back of his neck, razor-sharp features showed off his imperious nature to perfection, and then there were those amethyst eyes—needful, yet proud as a lion.

“Let’s just say I’m old-fashioned,” he said dryly.

“Well, I’m not,” she countered. It was a lie, but emotional anxiety always brought out the worst in her. She wasn’t about to spill her guts to this man. Not when he was making it crystal clear that their lovemaking was a huge mistake. She wasn’t going to tell him her name, where she was from, that she was sailing the isles for her grandfather as she tried to come up with a decent idea for her next children’s book.

No. She just wanted to run.

“I don’t want to resort to commands,” he began, crossing his arms over his thickly muscled chest. “But I will.”

Sophia’s brows shot together; she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “Excuse me?”

“I’m afraid I will have to command you to tell me who you are.”

“Command me?”

“That’s correct.”

She grinned, let out a throaty laugh and shook her head, the tension inside her easing considerably. “That’s very funny. You’re funny. So that must make you what? The king of Llandaron or something?”

He shook his head brusquely. “Not yet.”

Her stomach pinged with nerves, but she shoved the feeling away, forced out another easy laugh. “Well then, I suppose you can call me the queen of the sea.”

“This isn’t a time for humor, Miss…”

“I agree.” She stood up, straightened her shoulders. This was getting ridiculous. They’d acted without thinking, made a horrible mistake. But it was over. She needed to get out of here. Now. Before this charade went any further. Before she made an even bigger fool out of herself. “Any more commands before I go find a boatworks, sire?”

His severe gaze fairly wilted her resolve. “Just one.”

She swallowed, feeling the heat in her belly fire to life—and hating herself for such a reaction. “Knock yourself out.”

“I was careless. For that I apologize.”

“Please, no more apolo—”

“You may be carrying my child, miss… The heir to the throne of Llandaron.” He raised a fierce brow at her. “I’m afraid you’ll have to remain with me, in my kingdom, until I know for certain.”

Alex watched the blood drain from the woman’s beautiful face like wet paint from a canvas, and felt as though he wanted to ram his fist through a wall. He was the cause of the unease and shock she was feeling. He’d been too quick, too apathetic, in his quest to bring reality to the situation.

As though in the path of a rolling ball of fire, the woman leaped, glanced over her shoulder, then returned her stormy green gaze to him. “Listen, whoever you are. This, whatever it is, has gotten way out of hand.”

Alex was calm as he replied, “You don’t believe me?”

She sniffed, looked him up and down. “No, of course I don’t.”

“There are many ways to prove my identity.”

“I’m sure there are,” she said, her tone thick with agitated sarcasm. “But I’m not really up for more games today.”

“Neither am I.”

“Good.” Her gaze filled with strength as her long, fiery hair swirled around them. “My boat hit a rock and is flailing around out there. I need to have it towed in before—”

“There’s no need to worry about your boat. I will have it brought in for you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I think under the circumstances—”

“Thank you, but I can handle it. Now if you’ll excuse me.” And with that she turned to leave.

But her hasty departure was something Alex couldn’t allow. This was far from over, far from resolved. He grabbed her hand.

When she whirled back to face him, her expression screamed antagonism. “You’ve got some nerve, buddy.”

A grin tugged at Alex’s mouth. No one had ever spoken to him with such ferocity. Granted, she didn’t believe he was the crown prince of the country, but still her pluck intrigued him.

“What do you plan to do while you wait for the repairs on your boat?” he asked.

She tugged her hand from his. “I haven’t made any immediate plans yet.”

Alex looked out toward the ocean, saw the boat thrashing around and made a quick assessment. “With damage like that, repairs will take a few weeks at the very least.”

“We’ll see. I’m pretty good with boats, so maybe I’ll lend a hand.”

“I don’t think Mr. Verrick will allow such a thing, but of course, there is no harm in trying.”

“Thanks for the advice. Can I go now?”

“Just one more thing. Where will you stay while your boat is healing?”

“I don’t know,” she said impatiently. “In town, I guess.”

Alex shook his head, a vehemence he didn’t know he possessed seeping into his blood. There was no way he was going to send this woman off to some hotel room. No matter how unwise, he wanted her close, where he could keep an eye on her, where he could protect her—where he could make certain she wouldn’t leave Llandaron without his knowledge.

Not with the ominous possibility of his child growing inside her.

“You will stay here at my beach house.”

Her brows shot together. “Just who do you think you are?”

“I told you who I am.”

“Right. Future king. Right.” She gestured around her. “I don’t see any guards.”