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He groaned as heat exploded under her hands. His hips strained toward her, muscles begging to be set free from the iron hold he had on them. “Are you trying to make me barmy?”
“Nope. Just looking for the best places for when it’s my turn with the grapes.”
“Oh, it’s totally your turn,” he countered. “This is your dinner, too, and you must be hungry.”
“At last.” She knelt, grabbed a grape and eyed his splayed body. “Hmm. Where to start? I know.”
She stuck the grape in her mouth and rolled it around with her tongue, her hot gaze on his erection. Somehow that was more arousing than if she’d actually tongued him. She caught the small globe in her front teeth and bent to run it over his torso, dipping into the valleys and peaks, her hair spreading out like a feathery torture device across his sensitive skin. When she accidentally—or maybe on purpose—dragged her hair over his erection, the light touch lit him up. Fire radiated from the juncture of his thighs outward and just as he was about to cup her head to guide her toward the prize, she leaned up on her haunches.
Plucking the grape from between her lips, she grazed his length with the wet grape, nearly causing him to spill everything in one pulse.
“Enough of that,” he growled, manacling her wrist to draw it away from the line of fire. “You’ve obviously underestimated my appetite. Time for the main course.”
She grinned. “I thought you’d never say that.”
Fumbling with a condom, he somehow managed to get it secured and then rolled her underneath him. He’d been fantasizing about taking her exactly this way for an eternity. Soft and luscious, she slid right into the curves of his body as she had that day in the sand, except this time, nothing separated their skin and it was every bit as glorious as he’d imagined.
“You—” He nearly swallowed his tongue as she shifted, rolling her hips against his. The tips of her breasts ground into his torso, and it all felt so amazing, he couldn’t speak.
And then he didn’t have to speak as he gazed down into her blue eyes. Candlelight danced in their depths and he caught a hint of something else that hit him in the gut. As if she’d seen pieces of him that he’d never realized were there and she liked what she’d found. As if she truly saw him as a hero. Maybe she was the only one who could relate. They were both rebels—to the rest of the world—but his pain and difficulties behind the rebellion made total sense to her.
“Bella,” he murmured and that was the extent of what he could push through his tight throat.
“Right here.” Her low, husky voice became his favorite part of her as it hummed through him. “I was really afraid this would never happen. Make it worth the wait.”
It was already so worth it. Worth the lectures from his father, worth the uncomfortable nobleness he’d somehow adopted when around her. Worth sending her away from him on the terrace when all he’d wanted to do was pull that outrageous red dress up to her waist and make her his under the moonlight.
This way was better. Much better. No fear of being caught. No loaded landmines surrounding them, no paparazzi lying in wait to cause a scandal just because they wanted to be together.
He laid his lips on hers and fell into a long sigh of a kiss that grew urgent as she opened her mouth and dove in with her tongue, heightening the pleasure.
And then with a small shift, they joined. Easily, beautifully, as if she’d been specially crafted for James Rowling. It was almost spiritual and he’d never felt such a weight to being with a woman.
He froze for a moment, just letting her essence bleed through him, and then, determined to get her to the same place of mystical pleasure, he focused on her cries, her shifts, her rhythms. He became an instant student of Bella’s pleasure until he could anticipate exactly what she wanted him to do next to drive her to release.
And then she stiffened as a volatile climax engulfed her that he felt all the way to his soles. He let go and followed her into oblivion, holding her tight because he couldn’t stand to lose contact with her.
As he regained cognizance, he realized she was trying to get closer, too. He settled Bella comfortably in his arms and lay with her to watch the candle flames flicker, throwing shadows of the heavy furniture on the walls of the farmhouse they’d turned into the safest of havens.
This time with Bella...it was the most romantic experience he’d ever had, which sat strangely. For a guy who loved sex and abhorred roots, romance was difficult to come by. Not only had he never had it, he’d never sought it.
Why did something as normal as sex feel so abnormally and hugely different with this woman? He couldn’t make sense of it and it bothered him. As the unsettled feeling grew, he kissed Bella’s forehead and separated from her.
Bustling around to gather up their abandoned wine glasses and remnants of their dinner, he threw a forced smile over his shoulder. “Ready to finish eating?”
She returned the smile, not seeming to realize that he was trying to mask his sudden confusion. “Depends. Is that code for round two? Because the answer is yes, if so.”
Round two. He chugged some wine to give himself a second. Normally, he went for round two like a sailor on shore leave, but the thick, romantic atmosphere and the crushing sensation in his chest when he looked at Bella made him question everything.
What was going on here? This was supposed to be nothing but an opportunity to have fun with Bella, no expectations, no proposals before her brother took the throne.
“No code. Let’s eat.”
What was his problem? A beautiful woman who rocked his world wanted him to make love to her again. Maybe he should just do that, and everything would make sense once they were back to just two people having smashing sex. Will’s bet had hashed everything.
“For now,” he amended. “Got to keep up our strength.”
She grinned and shoved some crackers in her mouth. “All done,” she mumbled around the crackers.
Groaning around a laugh, he sat close to her on the blanket and shook off his strange mood. After all, she was Alma’s only princess. What role did a disgraced football player have in the middle of all that? Especially when he didn’t plan to be living in Alma permanently. In fact, a new contract would get him out from under all of this confusion quite well. He could enjoy a fling with Bella and jet off to another continent. Like always.
Obviously, there was no reason to give any more credence to the heavy weight in his chest.
* * *
There was a huge crick in Bella’s neck, but she actually welcomed the pain. Because she’d gotten it sleeping in James’s arms on a blanket spread over a hardwood floor.
That had been delicious. And wonderful. And a host of other things she could barely articulate. So she didn’t, opting to see what the morning brought in this unconventional affair they’d begun.
Once they were dressed and had the curtains thrown open to let sunlight into the musty great room, she turned to James. “I don’t know about you, but I’m heavily in favor of finding a café that’ll give you a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits in a takeout box. I’m starving.”
He flashed a quick grin. “Careful. That kind of comment now has all sorts of meaning attached. You better clarify whether you want me to feed you or strip you.”
Laughing, she socked him on the arm. “You’re the one who started that with the grapes. And the answer to that is both. Always.”
He caught her hand and held it in his. “I’m only teasing. I’ll go get breakfast. I wish you could come with me. Is it too much to ask that we go on a real date where I sit with you at an actual table?”
“We’ll get there.” She kissed him soundly and shoved him toward the door. “Once I have food in me, we can strategize about the rest of our lives.”
Item number one on the agenda: get this farmhouse in livable shape.
The strange look he shot her put a hitch in her stride and she realized immediately how he must have taken her comment. Okay, she hadn’t meant it like that, as if she was assuming they’d become a dyed-in-the-wool couple and he needed to get down on one knee.
But what was so bad about making plans beyond breakfast? She’d had some great lovers in the past, but what she’d experienced with James went far beyond the category of casual. Hadn’t he felt all the wonderful things she’d felt last night?
She rolled her eyes to make it harder for him to detect the swirl of emotion going on underneath the surface. “You can stop with the deer-in-the-headlights, hon. I just narrowly escaped one marriage. I’m not at all interested in jumping right into another one, no matter how good the prospective groom is at feeding me.”
Which was absolutely, completely true. Saying it aloud solidified it for them both.
With a wicked smile, he yanked on her hand, pulling her into his embrace. His weird expression melted away as he nuzzled her neck.
Foot-in-mouth averted. Except now she was wondering exactly what his intentions toward her were. A few nights together and then ta-ta?
And when did she get to the point where that wasn’t necessarily what she wanted? She didn’t do all that commitment-and-feelings rigmarole. She liked to have fun and secretly felt sorry for women on husband-hunting missions. Her mother had gotten trapped in that cycle and lived a miserable existence for years and years as a result. No, thank you.
Nothing had changed just because of a few emotions she had no idea what to do with. Her affair with James had begun so unconventionally and under extreme circumstances. If they’d been able to go out on a real date from the beginning, they’d probably have already moved on by now.
Good thing she’d made it clear marriage wasn’t on her mind so there was no confusion, though a few other things could be better spelled out.
James sucked on her tender flesh, clearly about to move south, and she wiggled away before her body leaped on the train without her permission.
“That wasn’t supposed to be a code word.” She giggled at his crestfallen expression but sobered to hold his gaze. “Listen, before you go get breakfast, let’s lay this out. Last night was amazing but I’m not done. Are you? Because if this thing between us was one night only, I’ll be sad, but I’m a big girl. Tell me.”
He was already shaking his head before she’d finished speaking. “No way. I’m nowhere near done.”
Her pulse settled. Good answer. “So, if you want a repeat of the grapes-on-the-floor routine, I’m all for it. But I’d prefer a real bed from now on. My plan is to put some elbow grease into this place, preferably someone else’s, and create a lover’s retreat where we can escape whenever we feel like it.”
“Are you expecting us to have to hide out that long?” Wary surprise crept into his tone, setting her teeth on edge.
“I don’t know. Maybe.” What, was it too much trouble to drive out here just to have a few stolen hours together? “Is what I’m suggesting so horrible?”
“No. Not at all. My hesitation was completely on the issue of hiding out. I want to be seen with you in public. I’m not ashamed of our relationship and I don’t want you to think I am.”
Her heart squished as she absorbed his righteous indignation and sincerity. He wanted their relationship to be aboveboard, just as he’d wanted to clear things with Will before proceeding. And that meant a lot to her. He kept trying to make her think he didn’t have a noble bone in his body when everything he did hinged on his own personal sense of honor.
“I didn’t think that, but way to score major points.” She batted her eyelashes at him saucily. “But that aside, I don’t even know if I’m staying in Alma permanently or I’d get my own place. I suspect you’re in the same boat.”
He’d told her he hoped to get another contract with a professional soccer—sorry, football—team, and that the team could be in Barcelona or the UK or Brazil or, or, or... He might end up anywhere in the world. And probably would.
“Yeah. I haven’t made a secret out of the fact that I don’t plan to stick around,” he agreed cautiously.
“I know. So do you really think there’s a scenario where either of us would be willing to parade the other across the thresholds of our fathers’ houses even if we do clear up the engagement announcement?”
He sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s rewind this whole conversation. Smashing idea, Bella. I’d love to help you get this place into shape so I can take an actual shower in the morning.”
That was the James she knew and loved. Or rather, the James she...didn’t know very well, but liked a whole lot. With a sigh, she let him kiss her again and shoved him out the door for real this time because her stomach was growling and her heart was doing some funny things that she didn’t especially like.
Space would be good right now.
The sound of the Lamborghini’s engine faded away as she went about taking inventory on the lower floor. Apparently most, if not all, of the original furnishings remained, as evidenced by their arrangement. Bella had been in enough wealthy households to recognize when a place had been artfully decorated and this one definitely had. The pieces had been placed just so by a feminine hand, or at least she imagined it that way. That’s when it hit her that this farmhouse had probably once belonged to an ancestor of hers. Someone of her blood.
A long gone Montoro, forgotten for ages once the coup deposed the royal family. She’d never felt very connected to the monarchy, not even at the palace in Del Sol where some of the original riches of the royal estate were housed. But the quieter treasures of the farmhouse struck her differently.
She picked up a filthy urn resting on a side table. White, or at least it was under the grime. She rubbed at it ineffectually with her palm and managed to get a small bit of the white showing. The eggshell-like surface was pretty.
Maybe it wasn’t priceless like the Qing Dynasty porcelain vase sitting in an art niche at the Coral Gables house. But worth something. Maybe it was actually worth more than the million-dollar piece of pottery back in Miami because it had been used by someone.
She’d never thought about worth being tied to something’s usefulness. But she liked the idea of having a purpose. She’d had one in Miami—wildlife conservation. What had happened to that passion? It was as if she’d come to Alma and forgotten how great it made her feel to do something worthwhile.
With renewed fervor, she dove into cleaning what she could with the meager supplies at hand, and revised her earlier thoughts. It would be fun to put some elbow grease of her own into this house. Whom else could she trust with her family’s property?
When the purr of James’s car finally reverberated through the open door, she glanced at her dirty arms and her lip curled. Some princess she looked like. A Cinderella in reverse—she’d gone from the royal palace to being a slave to the dust. A shower sounded like heaven about now.
The look in James’s eye when he walked in holding a bag stenciled with the logo of the only chain restaurant in Alma had her laughing. “There is no way you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking. I’m filthy.”
“Yes, way.” He hummed in approval. “I’ve never seen a sexier woman than you, Bella Montoro. Layer of dirt or not.”
There he went again making her insides all melty and that much more raw. She always got the distinct feeling he saw the real her, past all the outside stuff and into her core. The outside, inconsequential stuff was invisible to him. Coupled with the hard twist of pure lust she got pretty much any time she laid eyes on him, she could hardly think around it.
She shook it off. This fierce attraction was nothing more than the product of their secret love affair. Anticipation of the moment they’d finally connect, laced with a hint of the forbidden. It had colored everything and she refused to fall prey to manufactured expectations about what was happening between them.
Get a grip. “Smells like ham and biscuits,” she said brightly.
He handed her the bag. “I hope you like them. I had to drive two towns over to find them.”
The first bite of biscuit hit her tongue and she moaned. “I would have paid three hundred euros for this.”
He laughed. “On the house. You can pay next time.”
“Oh?” She arched a brow, relieved they’d settled back into the teasing, fun vibe she’d liked about them from the beginning. “Are you under some mistaken impression that I’m a liberated woman who insists on opening her own doors and paying her own way? ’Cause that is so not happening.”
“My mistake,” he allowed smoothly with a nod and munched on his own biscuit. “You want a manly bloke to treat you like a delicate hothouse flower. I get it. I’d be chuffed to climb all the ladders around here and wield the power tools in order to create a luxury hideaway, as ordered. You know what that means I get at the end of the day in return, right?”
“A full body massage,” she guessed, already planning exactly how such a reward might play out. “And then some inventive foreplay afterward.”
That was even more fun to imagine than the massage part of the evening’s agenda.
“Oh, no, sweetheart.” He leaned in and tipped her chin up to capture her gaze, and the wicked intent written all over his face made her shiver. “It means I get the loo first.”
Eight (#u95456b5c-1bd8-59ae-8557-b83e323f81fb)
The farmhouse’s great room looked brand-new and James couldn’t take all of the credit. It was because the house had good bones and old-world charm—qualities he’d never appreciated in anything before.
Hell, maybe he’d never even noticed them before.
Bella finished polishing the last silver candlestick and stuck it back on the mantel of the humongous fireplace, humming a nameless tune that he’d grown a bit fond of over the past day as they’d worked side by side to get their lover’s retreat set to rights.
“Did you hear that?” she asked with a cocked head.
“Uh, no.” He’d been too busy soaking in the sight of a beautiful woman against the backdrop of the deep maroon walls and dark furniture. “What was it?”
“The sound of success.”
She smiled and that heavy feeling in his chest expanded a tad more, which had been happening with alarming frequency all day. Unfortunately, the coping mechanism he’d used last night—grabbing Bella and sinking into her as fast as possible so his mind went blessedly blank—wasn’t available to him at this moment because a workman from the municipality was on his way to restore the water connection.
It was a minor miracle the workman had come out on short notice, given the typical local bureaucracy, but once James had mentioned that he was a representative for the Montoros, everything had fallen into place.
He’d have to make himself—and his distinctive green car—scarce. Just as he’d done this morning when the bloke from the electric company had come. But it was fine. The time away had given him an opportunity to talk through strategy with his sports agent, who mentioned a possible opportunity with Liverpool. No guarantees, but some shifting had occurred in the roster and the club needed a strong foot. Brilliant news at an even better time—the sooner James could escape Alma, the better.
“Yep,” he said and cleared a catch from his throat. “Only twenty-seven rooms to go.”
They’d started on the downstairs, focusing on the kitchen and great room, plus the servant’s quarters past the kitchen, where they intended to sleep tonight if the bed they’d ordered arrived on time, as promised. A lot had been accomplished in one day but not nearly enough.
Once they got the master bedroom upstairs cleaned up, James planned a whole silk-sheets-and-rose-petals-type seduction scene. He owed it to Bella since she’d been such a good sport about sleeping in the room designated for the help.
One thing he immensely appreciated about Bella: she joked around a lot about being high maintenance but she was the furthest thing from it. And he knew a difficult, demanding woman when he saw one, like his last semipermanent girlfriend, Chelsea. She’d cured him of ever wanting to be around a female for more than a one-night stand, a rule which he’d stuck to for nearly two years.
Until Bella.
