The King's Convenient Bride / The Illegitimate Prince's Baby: The King's Convenient Bride
almost naked.
She was really pushing it.
So you just won’t let anything happen, she decided. It’s not as though she was a slave to her libido.
She had waited this long. She could wait a little while longer.
But the question was, could Phillip? And if he took matters into his own hands, would she find the strength to stop him?
Bad idea or not, she followed him inside. His sitting room was much larger than her own, and closer to the size of the one they would be moving into after the wedding. And it was undeniably masculine. Dark polished wood and dark patterned fabric in rich hues. But not so dark that it was dreary or threatening. In contrast, the effect was warm and welcoming.
“This is nice,” she said, ideas popping into her head of how she might incorporate both his and her individual styles to create a decor they could both be comfortable in.
See, she told herself, coming here was a good thing.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
She turned to him, with every intention of meeting his eyes, but her gaze kept snagging slightly lower.
“Hannah?”
She pried her eyes from his torso and met his gaze. He was grinning again.
“If it would help get the conversation rolling, I could put on a shirt.”
Though she knew he was only teasing, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. I’m flattered. But maybe you should tell me what’s wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“I asked if you were okay, and you said no.”
Had she? My goodness, he must have thought she was a total ditz. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to say to him. So she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “My mother called.”
He didn’t seem to get the significance. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, she just…” Her voice cracked, and she realized, with horror, that tears burned the corners of her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier. She was tougher than that. Besides, she wasn’t that upset. More angry than sad.
“She just what?” he asked.
“She’s—” A half hiccup, half sob, worked its way up her throat and she battled to swallow it back down. “She’s getting married.”
Despite her resolve, the instant the words left her lips, the tears welled up over the edges of her lids and rolled down her cheeks. Mortified, she covered her face with her hands.
What was wrong with her? She should be spitting mad, not blubbering like a baby.
Then she felt Phillip’s arms go around her, draw her against him, and something inside her seemed to snap. Every bit of tension and anger that had built inside her let go in a limb-weakening rush and she all but melted against him.
“You think it’s too soon?” he asked. “For your mother to remarry, I mean.”
Because she wasn’t sure her voice was steady enough for a verbal reply, she nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. Just knowing he was there for her if she needed him was enough right now.
He didn’t say anything else. He just held her and stroked her hair. She held on tight, her face pressed to his warm, bare skin, and concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths, until she felt the tears begin to work their way back down. Apparently, this was exactly what she’d needed. How did he always seem to know exactly what to do and say to make her feel better?
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For barging in on you like this. And getting all wishy-washy and emotional.”
“It’s okay.”
“I don’t usually do this. I’m not a crier. It…it’s just been a really stressful couple of days.”
“I can imagine.”
“Bringing the jacket back was just an excuse,” she admitted, and could swear she felt him smile.
“I know.”
She looked up at him. Of all the women in the world that he could have had, why did he pick her? “I guess I just… I guess I was lonely.”
He touched her cheek, brushing away the last remnants of the tears with his thumb.
“All day I have appointments and meetings, and sometimes I just can’t wait to be alone, to have a minute to myself. But then, when I’m finally alone, I feel so…isolated. Does that make sense?”
“Trust me, I know exactly what you mean. And you get used to it. I promise.”
Maybe she didn’t want to get used to it. She wanted them to be a regular family. She wanted it so bad she ached deep in her heart.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow to tell you this,” he said. “My sister invited us to dinner at her residence tomorrow evening.”
“Really?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I told her we would be there.”
Mind? She was absolutely ecstatic. They would finally share a meal together. Like a real family. Not to mention that she had been eager to get to know her future sister-in-law. “I would love to.”
She was so happy, she nearly burst into tears again. Instead, she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Just a quick, sweet kind of kiss, so he would know how much it meant to her.
But it felt so nice, so…perfect, she kissed him again. This one lasting just a little longer than the first. She felt his arms tighten around her, the flex of his back where her hands rested.
And because the second one was even better than the first, she kissed him again.
And again.
And then she couldn’t stop.
Phillip had Hannah exactly where he wanted her. Her body pressed against him, her arms circling his neck, hands tangled in his hair. And her mouth—damn, what she could do with her mouth. He had never been with a woman who kissed so…earnestly.
He could have her tonight if he wanted, before the wedding, just as he’d planned. So, why did it feel wrong? As if he were somehow betraying her trust?
Since when did he care about anyone but himself?
He wouldn’t be having this problem, this case of an overactive conscience, if she wasn’t so damned honest all the time. If she didn’t walk around with her heart on her sleeve.
He’d told her, just this afternoon, that her honesty would get her into trouble, and she insisted that honesty was a good thing. Well, it was looking like maybe she was right.
Yet here he was, kissing her, touching her, when what he should be doing was telling her no. But, damn, she felt good.
Maybe she didn’t understand the consequences of her actions. Maybe if he pushed just a little further, tempted her just a little bit more, she would realize what she was doing and put on the brakes.
Maybe he could make her tell him no.
He let his hand slide down her back, slowly. Over the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. Then he went lower, cupping the soft swell of her behind. She whimpered softly, but didn’t attempt to pull away. He took it one step further, pulling her against him, so she would feel exactly what all of this fooling around was doing to him. And, hell, she felt amazing. All soft and warm