Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,25

ingredients in it. “I don’t kiss my patients.”

He came closer and she backed up until she was practically sitting in the sink. But this time, she didn’t feel panicked or closed in. After all, it was just Frank. “I’ve been very patient with you, Julia, but I’m not one of your patients.”

“You’re rather impatient, Frank.” Just as she said that, their hips touched and she realized how impatient he was. His erection was obvious, even through his jeans, fitting perfectly into the cradle of her hips.

Her eyes widened and he nodded ruefully. “We’ve waited long enough, Julia. Won’t you kiss me and make it all better?”

“Just your hand,” she emphasized.

“For now.” He rotated slightly, rubbing against her. She exhaled shakily. To feel all of that inside her…her fantasy from upstairs came roaring back and her nipples tightened against her thin bra.

But all he was asking for was a little kiss. On his hand, even. She took his wrist and placed a kiss near his bandage.

“And here.” He wiggled his fingertips.

“What? You’re not hurt there.”

“The pain is radiating outward.”

She went along with him and kissed each fingertip, his skin catching a bit on the tender inner skin of her lips. He watched her eagerly, his pupils dilating until his eyes were almost black.

She nipped at his index finger and giving into the desire she’d tried to suppress all day, sucked it into her mouth. He groaned in shock and lust. “Julia…”

She swirled her tongue around his finger, the thick skin scraping along her nerve endings. She imagined doing the same thing to his erection that pressed between them.

He yanked his hand free and pulled her close. Just then, a huge clap of thunder startled them apart and a repetitive thumping noise came from outside. He bit out a Portuguese oath and craned his head toward the kitchen door. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” He bent down and gave her a fierce, fast kiss before tossing on a rain slicker.

She clutched the countertop, her heart pounding. What had possessed her to be so bold? She hadn’t made up her mind to make love with Frank—had she?

Julia slumped onto a stool. Maybe she had. She’d seen the clouds coming from the west, had seen the waves starting to rise as they’d boated to Frank’s island. Her psychology class wasn’t much more than a distant memory, but even she could remember the pesky subconscious part of the mind that knew a person’s hidden wishes and cheerfully shoved her along toward attaining them.

Stupid Freud. Stupid subconscious. She’d known the weather would likely go bad and she’d be stranded on the island in the middle of a storm.

How very gothic of her. All she had to do was run screaming into the night with the Duke of Aguas Santas chasing her and they’d be reenacting one of those novels her mother had devoured when Julia was a kid. Except Julia had never grown up to be as buxom as those heroines.

On the other hand, Frank apparently still thought she was fine in the buxom department. And she was pretty sure he had absolutely no interest in running around his island in a thunderstorm in the dark, given how he’d cursed before going outside to fix whatever was thumping.

He was obviously interested in staying indoors with a nice fire, a bottle of wine and a heaping helping of soft bedding.

Her eyes strayed to the pile of blankets. It did make sense to stay downstairs since their only heat source was the fireplace.

She snorted. Oh, yes, that wouldn’t be their only heat source.

The lights went off and a dark figure stood in the door, silhouetted by lightning. Julia let out a piercing shriek that surprised even herself.

“Ay, caramba! Julia?”

“Frank?”

“Who else would it be?” He came into the kitchen and she shrunk back until she could see his face lit up by the next lightning bolt.

“Oh. Hi, Frank.”

“Hi, Frank?” he echoed. “You scared the life out of me. Meu Deus, oh, my God. My heart is pounding.”

“Good thing we have the defibrillator.”

“Very funny.” He shucked his jacket and hung it up on a hook near the door. “As I was planning to tell you before we started our little horror movie reenactment—”

Julia couldn’t help giggling.

“What’s so funny?” He came closer, flipping the wet hair out of his eyes.

“While you were out, I was thinking that we were reenacting a gothic novel.”

“Eh?”

“Dark, stormy nights, vulnerable maidens being chased by the lord of the manor.”

“That does sound more fun