cursed. Not because the problem at the casino hadn’t been easy to solve—that issue had been handled in only a few minutes—but because of the unsatisfied desire that was still raging through him.
He couldn’t believe he’d almost had sex with Alison outside by his pool, with all of the speed and finesse of a very horny schoolboy. He had never, ever lost control with a woman like that before. He had always taken time when romancing a woman. Selena had never wanted it any other way. She had always needed candles, a dimly lit room. He had always spent at least an hour arousing her body before he’d even considered taking things to their natural conclusion.
But with Alison there had been no romance, no candles. He’d been ready to plunge into her without a full five minutes of foreplay. And what foreplay there had been was clumsy, driven by an intense need, not any kind of skill or consideration. He didn’t know this part of himself; the part that only Alison seemed to be able to bring out in him.
He was a man who prized his control. He always thought things through, always led first with his mind before jumping into action. And yet, Alison, his beautiful, bewitching fiancée, the woman who was pregnant with his child, robbed him of his ability to think coherently.
It was the unknown that was causing his body to respond this way. It had to be. He had desired her from the first moment he’d seen her and every night since then he’d dreamed of her, her smell, the touch of her soft hands, and the wet press of her lips over his body. There was no way the fantasy would live up to the reality, though, because it never did.
He needed to take her, to know once and for all what her desire for him would taste like, know what it felt like to be inside her, know what sounds she would make when he brought her to completion. And once the mystery was solved, the edge would be worn away. It had to be.
He couldn’t wait anymore. He wanted her, and he knew for certain that she wanted him with the same ferocity, that she was just as hungry as he was. And he wasn’t going to allow her to deny it any longer.
Alison scrubbed the chlorine from her skin and wished she could wash away the imprint from Maximo’s touch half as easily. No such luck. Even with the scalding water from the shower coursing over her body, she could still feel the impression of where his hands had touched her, teased her, where his mouth had seared her. She shivered despite the heat and shut the water off.
During her shower she’d decided that she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done with Max. She was entitled to sexual pleasure if she wanted it. And that was a massive admission in and of itself. She was embarrassed, though, because she’d totally lost track of time and place, and anyone could have walked right up to them and she would have been much too lost in what they were doing to notice. Maybe Maximo, with his stable of previous lovers, was sophisticated enough to deal with something like that. He could probably turn it into a saucy anecdote and laugh about it with his sophisticated friends. Not her, though. She just didn’t have the experience for that, which just went to prove how out of her league Max was.
Ashamed as she was to admit it, she’d looked him up when she’d been on the computer in the office, and she’d seen the kind of women he’d had in his life. Even before his marriage to the supernaturally lovely Selena, he’d had a very high taste level where his girlfriends were concerned. All of them were high-profile models, actresses, socialites, and all of them had been tall, thin and gorgeous. They weren’t the kind of women to run and hide from sexual attraction. They were the kind of women who would pounce on it and tame it, take what they wanted and enjoy doing it.
She realized that she was clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles were white and she slowly released them.
She’d never considered herself a coward. On the contrary, she’d always been prideful about how brave she thought she was. Brave and sensible. Sensible enough to protect herself, keep herself from coming unraveled and completely dependent on someone. Brave because she’d gone out and learned to stand on her own feet, made things happen for herself.
And she’d been the biggest, delusional idiot.
She’d been a coward. She hadn’t dealt with anything. She’d completely walled off a portion of herself so she wouldn’t have to deal with all of the complications that might result from a relationship.
She’d denied any sort of desire for companionship, totally squashed her sexuality, and all the while she’d been congratulating herself for being so strong. It wasn’t strength that had led her to do those things, it was fear. And that was a bitter pill to swallow. She wasn’t much better than her mother. It was just that her general wariness was preemptive rather than a response to something that had happened to her. The result, however, was much the same. Oh, she might not subject everyone to lengthy, vitriolic speeches about men and how you couldn’t trust them, but she carried that belief inside of her. If she wasn’t careful it was going to poison her.
It had to change. She was crippling herself. Ironic, since she’d always been so terrified that losing a lover would do that to her, and she’d done it to herself.
She wasn’t ready to rush headlong into falling in love, but maybe …
Maybe she could fulfill her desire for Max. Those women in the magazines, the women who had dated Max before his marriage, knew that sex wasn’t love. Knew it and reveled in it. They didn’t suppress that part of themselves, not like she had done for so long.
She exited the bathroom and went into her connecting bedroom, sinking onto the bed, holding her towel tightly around her naked body. She was such a hopeless case for Max that even the rough abrasion of the terry cloth over her bare skin was turning her on.
It had always been easy to act aloof around men. She hadn’t really wanted any of them. There had been a few times when she’d really liked someone, felt a kind of bitter melancholy over not pursuing anything serious with them. But this, what she felt for Max, was a consuming hunger that was with her all the time. A spark that smoldered in her belly, ready to burst into flame when Max so much as looked at her.
The fact that they were engaged to be married, that they were having a baby together, was the biggest thing holding her back. If she could just indulge in a fling with him, one night of passion maybe, just so she could experience it, so she could exorcise this thing that had flared so strongly between them, then she would more than happily jump into bed with him.
But the fact remained that they were engaged, and they were having a baby. And those were very, very permanent ties.
But her body was still screaming for the release she knew only Maximo would be able to give. She just didn’t know if she could fight it anymore. Or if she even wanted to …
She stood from the bed and crossed to the massive closet on the other side of the room. It was packed full of designer clothing, all chosen by a personal shopper without Alison present, since the paparazzi had made shopping an impossibility. Every last article was beautiful, and a lot more revealing than anything she would have chosen for herself.
Sliding her hands over the fabrics she stopped at a midnight-blue silk dress with a low halter neckline and a floaty, knee-skimming hem. It was an extremely sexy dress, one she’d privately vowed never to wear as she’d hung it up in the closet. But now … now it seemed perfect.
She pulled it out quickly before any doubts or fears could invade and talk her out of it. She hadn’t known what she was planning until that moment, but, even though she might think she was stupid in the morning, she was committed. She was going to seduce Prince Maximo Rossi.
The glow of the candlelight bathed Alison’s skin in golden warmth. And there was a lot of bare skin on display. Her barely-there midnight-blue satin gown clung to her every curve and showed off the swell of her breasts, her lovely shoulders, her perfect legs. And when Maximo had pulled her chair out for her and she’d turned to look before sitting, he’d been unable to tear his gaze away from her perfect, rounded derriere.
Dinner had been an exercise in torture. She had savored every bite that she’d put in her mouth, making sensual, delighted noises and darting her slick pink tongue out to catch any flavor that had lingered