Chapter 6 #2
"You're the prince, an actual prince, which means you're going to have to get married and start producing heirs."
"When the time is right, I'm sure I will be choosing a suitable bride who will be bearing my name and my children. For now, I'm enjoying my freedom."
Christos gave him a shrewd look. "I used to be like you. I said as much, though few of us can beat you when it comes to bagging women. You collect them the way some men collect stamps. It's a lonely life."
Tomas gave him a derisive look. "You're preaching fidelity to me now. Changing diapers and lack of sleep have addled what little brain cells you had."
"It's called being very happy." He lifted his glass in a toast. "And right now, you look as if you've lost your best friend. You look lonely."
"By choice. I got two keys since I stepped foot inside the door. The delectable Rebecca Montclair and the nubile Alecia Drummond. I can have my choice of women."
"And yet, here you are hiding out in the ivory lounge."
"I'm not hiding out." He realized he sounded defensive and tried to temper his tone. "I just needed to drink alone. Have some thinking to do."
Christos made a scoffing sound inside his throat. "You look like a man who has a lot on his mind. Must be a woman."
It took a supreme amount of skill for Tomas to keep his expression neutral.
"I'm not like you. I don't think about women like that. I never give them that amount of power."
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Nothing. How about joining me for supper? Unless you're going to take up the ladies' invitations and join one or both of them for the evening."
"I need to eat. And you should show the proper respect by addressing me as your royal highness."
Christos stared at him for a minute before chuckling. "My ass."
"Father was right," Tomas muttered with a grin. "We do not get the proper recognition our titles deserve."
"You're a dying breed, my friend," Christos said cheerfully, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now let's go get something to eat."
*****
"I apologize profusely for my tardiness.
Senor Garcia insisted on going through the entire account with me to verify the transactions and on top of that, I was cornered as soon as I stepped outside the bank by reporters.
They are damn parasites. Excuse…" Her voice trailed off as she caught the person rising from the sofa at the back of the large office and recognized who it was.
He was back! Quenching the sudden leap of her heart at the sight of him, she lifted her chin.
"Prince." Forcing herself to acknowledge his presence, she turned toward the woman who also rose.
"I was apprised of the situation regarding the press."
"I can see you're occupied, so I'll-" She started to retreat when Queen Sofia held up an imperious hand to stop her.
"Prince Tomas would like to have a word with you and I'm running late for a meeting with the board." She came alongside Antoinette. "Kindly hear him out."
It was not a request and they both knew it.
"Of course." Forcing a smile, Antoinette waited until the door had closed before rounding on the silent man standing by the window.
The watery sun filtering through the large pane of glass highlighted his dark hair and golden skin.
He was wearing an emerald green sweater that did something wonderful to his eyes, making them appear like the color of the sea.
And he was smiling slightly. A slow, devastating smile that was doing something funny to her insides. It made her even angrier.
"I have work to do, so please say whatever it is you think you should say to me and let me get on with it."
At this moment, it did not matter a damn that he was royalty and kind of her boss. She wanted to stay as far away from him as possible.
"I want to apologize."
"Again?" she asked sarcastically. "What are you doing?"
"Walking toward you. Why?"
"Why are you doing that?"
"To get closer, to see your face, to wonder why you're so angry."
Her eyes widened. "Why I'm so angry? You bastard, you read my personal file and used it to score some sick point. Stop!" She held a hand out as he continued to walk toward her. "You can take your insincere apology and shove it-"
"Be careful." His levity had fled completely.
He was making the bloody effort, wasn't he?
He had not long arrived home and instead of resting from his long flight or going to see friends, he was here taking the time to apologize, and bloody prickly and stubborn that she was, the woman was making it difficult for him.
"You want to take a step back and think about the consequences of the words coming from your mouth." He caught her hand by the wrist, holding on when she started to pull away. "I'm sorry for what I said to you that day. Accept my bloody apology and let's move on from it."
"Or what?" She glared at him, wondering fleetingly why he had such a volcanic effect on her. "You're going to ask mommy to fire me again?"
He saw red at her sarcastic tone. Without thinking, he shoved her back against the wall as his control snapped cleanly in two.
"What-"
"Shut the bloody hell up." He curved a hand around her throat, eyes blazing.
"You're rude and irreverent and yes, I wish to God!
I wish to God that my mother had heeded my demands to get rid of you.
I want you gone. You're a bane in my existence, a thorn in my side and a bloody week of staying away from here, from you has not done a damn thing.
So shut up, be quiet, do you hear me, just be quiet! "
"Let go of me. You will let go of me right now-"
"Or what?" he taunted her. His breathing had accelerated and his skin was hot. Her scent dominated his nostrils and invaded his bloodstream. The feel of her voluptuous curves against him was making him itchy and hard.
He had spent the week trying to deny that what he was feeling was an attraction for a woman who wasn't even his type.
An attraction so intense, it was eating away at his sanity.
It made him want to- His hand snaked up to the tidy coil she had wrapped her hair in and tugged at pins to send them flying.
His fingers tangled in the silky strands.
He had her body trapped against his, wedged in tight.
"Don't-" She did not recognize her own voice. All she knew was that her heart was racing overtime and she felt hot, her nipples heavy. "Don't."
"Damn you to bloody hell," he whispered as his mouth swooped down.
She turned her head away at the last minute so that his mouth found the rounded curve of her cheek.
Letting go of her hair, he clamped hard fingers on her chin and turned her around.
His eyes met hers as he hesitated for a millisecond.
Just that one tiny moment that seemed to freeze between them. Then he crushed his lips to hers.
All the pent-up fury and passion was poured into that kiss that seemed to incinerate them right where they stood. He forced her lips open and when they did, he plunged his tongue into her mouth.
His conscience was warring with his common sense. He should stop. He shouldn't have started. This was wrong. It did not make a damn difference. The need raging inside him could not be quenched. He took the kiss even deeper, his mouth moving over hers with a desperation he had never felt before.
And she was helpless to deny him. The files she had clutched in her hands slid heedless to the floor and, against their will, her hands lifted to grip his broad shoulders as she participated in the hottest, sweetest, and most erotic kiss she had ever experienced.
She was helpless against such an onslaught and felt as if her entire body was going up in flames.
He captured her moan, or was that him? He wondered dazedly as he continued kissing her. He could make it last forever. He wanted it to last forever. He wanted to rip the clothes from her body and devour her flesh. He wanted more than just a taste of her.
From the first moment they met, there had been this fire between them. She had rubbed him the wrong way from that day. And he wanted her. Madre de Dios! He wanted her with a fierceness that was driving him insane.
Lifting his mouth from hers, he sucked in some much-needed breaths and simply stared at her. The hair he had let loose was tumbling around her face and over her shoulders in wild disarray. Her magnificent eyes were bright with passion and sweet God! Her lips were swollen and wet.
With a tortured groan, he dipped his head again and this time he managed to make the kiss light, brushing his lips over hers in a way that had the fire that had been raging inside her bursting into flames.
Her hands gripped his sweater as sensations hit her head-on.
She yielded. Against her better judgment and the words screaming inside her that this was wrong, that she should run, she yielded to his kisses, her body arching toward his.
The phone lines were ringing, but neither of them paid any mind, too wrapped up in the passion to hear anything else outside the rapid beating of their hearts.
Ending the kiss reluctantly, Tomas lifted his head, eyes blazing. He had to wait a minute before he found his voice.
"Come to bed with me," he urged thickly. "I want you."
The words were like a dousing of cold water on flames. They snapped her out of the wave of euphoria his kisses had wrapped around her and brought her rapidly to her senses.
Shoving at him, she bent to pick up the files she had dropped and went to put them on Queen Sofia's desk. The queen! She had allowed herself to be mauled by the woman's son right here in her office where there were probably cameras hidden all over the place.
Whirling, she headed for the door, not even hearing his command for her to stop.