Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,30

her farther into reality, and her heart crumpled when she realised what she’d allowed Lucas to see. Her. Pathetic and needy. Vulnerable. The girl she’d buried long ago.

‘Are you able to stand?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ she said, sliding down his body to her feet. The sensation reminded her, made her voice hitch. ‘Thank you.’

He raked an irritable hand round the back of his neck. ‘Claudia, about what just happened...’

He averted his gaze to some place over her left shoulder. But not before she caught the glimpse of uneasy regret.

Claudia closed her eyes. It was worse than she’d thought.

Sharing a student flat at university had taught her to close her ears to wanton chatter. But she wasn’t tone deaf or completely ignorant about sex. She’d heard of a pity lay, and she guessed she’d just experienced the pity-kiss equivalent. The thought made her feel physically sick. Yes, she’d felt him, hard and amazing against her stomach, but how many times had she seen classmates hop from one bed to another regardless of attraction? Sex was sex to men, as long as it resulted in a high-octane pay-off.

‘I should not have done it,’ he bit out, anger slashing across his cheeks.

‘You’re right. You shouldn’t. Not for the reasons you did.’

His brow crunched, his mouth shaping for speech, and she couldn’t bear to hear any more excuses. This was humiliating enough.

‘Don’t worry about it, Lucas. It meant nothing, right?’ She shrugged in an attempt to lighten the mood.

‘Right.’

‘We’ll just go on like it never happened.’

Painfully aware he was starting to read her like a kindergarten book, she didn’t appreciate the way he scanned her face. The notion made her reach for a curveball and throw it out there. ‘I just thought—what the hell? I’ll try it.’

A stunned light flashed in his intense stare. ‘Qué?’

‘Kissing,’ she said, her heart lifting as she warmed to the idea. The last thing she needed was Lucas thinking she had designs on him. ‘It was better than I thought.’

He blinked.

She smiled.

‘That,’ he said, pointing back to the hospital, still blinking wide eyes, ‘was the first time you’ve been...kissed?’

‘Yes.’

It took a few seconds for him to absorb that tasty little snippit, his jaw falling off its hinges in the process. As embarrassing as never-been-kissed was to admit, it was a far better alternative to the undoubted ego-boost that she fancied the pants off him.

And then her scurrilous mind darted in yet another direction, spawning her need to be the very best. At everything.

‘So tell me, just so I know for the future, did I do it right?’

A sound spluttered from his lips—something between a cough and a growl. ‘Sí,’ he said vaguely. Too vaguely for her liking.

He was just being a gentleman. She didn’t like being under par. As a person she fed off success. On an intellectual level, that was. Until now.

She rubbed her fingertips across the plump flesh of her lips. Had she been too soft? Too hard? Too wet? Maybe she hadn’t opened her mouth enough. It had been perfectly delicious to her, but...

Oh, heavens. He was staring at her mouth.

She stilled.

His eyes shot up to hers: liquid ozone, dark and intense. ‘And was it as you’d hoped?’

Stifling a smile, she went for light, airy. ‘Oh, it was fine. Nothing like custard.’

CHAPTER SIX

NEVER BEEN KISSED.

Lucas sat in the plush lounge area of the jet, coffee sliding over his tongue, scorching the erotic blend of Claudia from his mouth. Lowering the cup to the table, he glanced covertly across the cabin to where she’d finally settled—curled into a deep swivel bucket seat, her long legs dangling over the side.

She was buried in work. Fierce concentration marred the silky skin of her brow as she pushed her glasses up her nose and scribbled another note in her book.

Did I do it right?

Lucas scrubbed his hands over his face. Trust Claudia to pour every ounce of delectable effort into her first kiss and succeed in blowing his mind.

What the hell had he been thinking, kissing her in the first place? He hadn’t been thinking. Not with the correct head anyway. With one forbidden touch he’d lost control. Dios, he should never have laid a finger on her. But she’d been aching, hurting. The pain in her eyes had thrown him.

Practically across the corridor.

Holding her—her scent a warm shroud, her flesh heating his blood, her touch a sensual deluge—resistance had become futile.

And if he thought Claudia had been lost in the moment she’d soon murdered the notion, squashing his ego