Temporarily His Princess - By Olivia Gates Page 0,35
at beholding this magnificence.
“Wait until you see it at ground level.” He turned her around, sat both of them down, buckled them in and brought her hands to his lips with a contemplative sigh. “But you’re right. I was here too little for too many years.”
“And now you’re taking the UN post, you’re going to be anywhere but here.” And they wouldn’t be here for their year of marriage.
As if feeling her disappointment, he shook his head. “We’ll come here often and stay as long as possible each time. We can stay for a good while now. Would you like that?”
Vincenzo was asking her if she’d like to stay? When he hadn’t bothered to ask if she’d like to come in the first place? Was that part of his “put her at ease” campaign?
If it was, it was succeeding. Spectacularly.
She melted back, luxuriating in his solicitude, no matter its motives. She hadn’t worked up the courage to take an active part in this seduction, but having him this close made her dizzy with the need to touch and taste him. His skin made her drool, polished as bronze, soft as satin. And it was like that everywhere. She knew. She’d once explored him inch by inch. She couldn’t wait to binge on his flawlessness again.
But having taken the decision to give in to the insanity, she knew she’d have the mind-blowing pleasure soon. Sighing with the relief of surrender, she looked into his expectant eyes, loving the anxious expectation she saw there.
“As long as I can get a better toothbrush than the one in the jet’s welcome pack.”
Elation blazed in his eyes before he crushed her lips in an assuaging yet distressing kiss, groaning inside her. “Next time we’re here, or on my jet—yes, I have only one—we’re going to do our dueling and eating and bantering in bed. I hope you know what it cost me to not take you there this time.”
“Because it’s your king and queen’s bed?”
“Bellissima, I’ll have to refresh your memory that when it comes to taking you, I don’t care where we are.”
As if she needed her memory refreshed. She’d spent years wishing it erased. He’d once taken her at work, in the park, in his car, everywhere—the only uncharacteristic rule breaking he’d done back then. But…
“Then why didn’t you?”
Winding a thick lock of her hair around his hand, he tugged her closer, whispered against her cheek, “Because I want to wait. For the ring. For our wedding night.”
*
After that she had no idea what she said or what happened. Agitated all over again at being hit with the reality of what she was doing, she functioned on auto as they landed in what must have been the royal airport and disembarked.
A Mercedes was awaiting them at the bottom of the stairs. The driver saluted Vincenzo with a deep bow, gave him the key then rushed to another car. Then Vincenzo was driving them out of the airport on a road that ran by the shore.
She gazed dazedly at the picturesque scenery as the powerful car sped on the smoothest black asphalt road she’d ever been on. She didn’t ask where they were going. Now that she’d given up resisting, she wanted him to surprise her, and she had no doubt he’d keep doing that. This time she’d enjoy it. Having no expectations, knowing the worst was to come, freed her, allowing her to live in the moment.
For someone who worried every single second she was awake, and most of the moments she slept, too, it was an unknown sensation. Like free fall. And she was loving it more by the second.
Vincenzo bantered with her nonstop, acting the perfect tour guide, pointing out landmarks and telling her stories about each part of the island. He said he’d take her to Jawara, the capital, and the royal palace, later. For now, he wanted to show her something else.
Letting the magic of this land with its balmy weather and brilliant skies seep through her, she soaked up his information and consideration. Then coming around a hill, in the distance there was…
She sat up straight, her heart hammering.
This…this was his home. His ancestral home.
She’d researched this place in her greed to find out everything about him. She’d read sonnets about it, written by Moorish poets, sonnets about the princes who inhabited it, and defended and ruled the countryside at its feet. Back when she’d thought she’d meant something to him, she’d ached for the time he’d take