Royal Package - Lili Valente Page 0,36

the time I steady myself, Sabrina has a hand planted on the fountain.

“Ha! I won!” she pants as she thrusts her arms into the air in victory, so pleased with herself I can’t help but return her smile. “You’re the rotten egg!”

“You cheated,” I accuse.

“I did not,” she says with a laugh. “I never cheat. I like my wins like I like my men, sweet and honest.”

It’s too perfect a setup to let it pass. I step in, bending my face closer to hers as I ask, “Is that really how you like your men?”

She meets my gaze, her chest rising and falling faster, making me very aware of the curves beneath her white long-sleeved tee shirt. “There’s nothing wrong with being sweet and honest.”

“Not at all,” I say, her body heat warming my lips. “Just doesn’t sound like very much fun.”

“Sure, it does.”

“Really?” I challenge. “So you’d rather have sweet than strong? Rather have a pushover than a man who stands up to you? Challenges you? A man who gives you everything he’s got and won’t settle for less than your best?”

“I don’t need a man to challenge me.” She lifts her chin. “I do a fine job of challenging myself.”

“Bullshit,” I whisper, loving the way her eyes flash in response. “Everyone needs someone to challenge them, princess, and I think you need it more than most.”

“Just goes to show,” she says, “that you don’t know me at all.”

“And whose fault is that?” I ask, my voice rough around the edges as I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her against me.

I don’t intend to kiss her.

I’m just trying to push her buttons, to see how far she’ll let this go before she calls “uncle” and admits she’s not who she’s pretending to be.

But I don’t anticipate the thrill of awareness that surges through me as her body brushes against mine. I don’t count on the way my pulse spikes as her arms go around my neck, making it so easy I can’t resist.

One second, I’m on the verge of calling her out as a fraud, the next, I’m crushing my lips to hers and kissing her like I’ve been dying to kiss her my entire life and not just since seven o’clock this morning. Our mouths collide, and electricity crackles through the air, lighting up the darkness behind my eyes.

My lips part, and her tongue meets mine with a perfect sexy sweetness that makes my pulse race faster. Her arms tighten around me with a moan, but she lets me take the lead, a hint of shyness in the way she threads her fingers into my hair.

It’s the shyness that makes me wonder…

Makes me doubt…

Is this really Sabrina? Or am I a fucking madman who’s pulled this entire twin-switch plot out of his ass and is making out with his actual fiancée?

Either way, kissing this woman is a bad idea. But if she’s Elizabeth, then kissing her is the absolute worst thing I could do. This is going to give her all sorts of wrong ideas and muddy the hell out of my “Please Dump Me and Get out of Here” message.

I have to do something to wreck the moment before it’s too late!

Wrenching my mouth from hers, I scramble to think of something to say—something awful, but not so awful that it will hurt her feelings or stain my conscience. But my lust-addled brain refuses to function. I’m off my game, too drunk with wanting her to think clearly about anything but how much I’d like to get her out of all her pesky clothes.

Short on ideas and swiftly losing the element of surprise, I do the first thing that pops into my head. I roll my eyes back in my head and go full fainting-goat, knees buckling as I careen toward the ground.

Lizzy calls my name and does her best to catch me, but I’m too heavy. Her hands slide ineffectually off my waist, and a moment later, I’m sprawled on my side in the pebbles, feigning unconsciousness and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

I have never felt like a bigger idiot—or like less of a man—than I do right now.

Really, brain? A fucking fainting spell? That’s all you’ve got? Could you make me look like more of an asshole?

But hopefully, my random spasm will work to my advantage. I can’t imagine any woman, no matter how nice or marriage-minded she might be, wanting to make out on with a man who