Carrying A King's Child

“All my life I’ve done what is expected of me. I haven’t shirked a single duty. I’m the CEO of Montoro Enterprises and now I will be king of Alma, but for this one afternoon, Red, can I be Rafe? Not a man with his future planned but your lover? Father of your baby?” he asked.

He came back over and dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her hips. Then he drew her closer to him and kissed her belly. “I want you to be able to speak to our baby about me with joy instead of regret.”

She looked down at him as he rested his head against her body. Tunneling her fingers into his thick black hair, she understood that from this point on, when she left this penthouse they couldn’t be this couple again.

She sighed, and the woman she’d always been, the one who lived by the motto Never Say Never, took over. Rafe and she might not have more than this time together. And she wanted this one last time with him.

She hadn’t expected to be a mom this soon. She had made all these plans for her life and then when she’d taken those pregnancy tests it had all gone out the window.

But for this moment she could forget about tomorrow. She hoped this would be enough, but feared one more afternoon in his arms would never be enough to satisfy her.

Two

Rafe pushed aside all of his thoughts and just focused on Emily. It was amazing that she’d come to find him. She was strong enough, independent enough to keep the baby from him if she’d wanted. It embarrassed him a little, humbled him, too, that he would never have known about the baby if she hadn’t shown up.

He’d been focusing on the royal legacy and managing everyone’s expectations. Especially people he didn’t even know and hadn’t cared existed until last month. Funny how he’d gone from worrying about financial targets and managing a multinational company to worrying about a little thing like protocol.

But as long as Emily was here he could forget all that. Concentrate on being the man and not the king.

He held her tightly as he stood up, lifting her off her feet and letting her slide back down his body. She was curvy and light, his woman, and he wanted to be just her man. He carried her to the big brass bed and stood next to it, just waiting for a signal from her.

She owed him nothing.

She sighed and then lowered her head and brushed her lips over his, and something tight and frozen inside him started to melt. She kissed him not like the bold bartender she was when they’d met, but like a woman who wanted to relish her time with her lover.

They both knew without saying it that this was the last time they’d be together like this. Maybe if they’d met two years from now after he’d been on the throne and had time to figure out what being king meant, their path would have been different. But they hadn’t.

They had this afternoon and nothing more.

He wanted these memories of the two of them to keep for himself as he moved into a life that was no longer his own.

He pushed his hands into her thick red hair, cradling her head as he took control of the kiss. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, tasted peppermint and woman. Her arms slipped lower and she stroked her hand down his back as he deepened the kiss.

Though he knew this long, wet kiss was just the beginning, he wanted to savor it. Dueling desires warred inside him as he wanted to make every touch last as long as possible. The intensity of his lust for her was almost unbearable; he needed to be hilt-deep inside her right now.

He lifted his head, rubbed his thumb along the column of her neck. Her pulse was racing and her eyes were half closed. Her creamy skin was dotted with freckles and the faint flush of desire.

He dropped nibbling kisses down her neck. She smelled of orange blossoms and sea breeze. She was like the wildest parts of Florida, and he felt as if he could hold her for only a fleeing moment and then she’d be gone. Tearing through his life like a hurricane.

He slid his hands down her back, tightening them around her waist, and lifted her off her feet again. She wrapped her legs around his waist and put her hands on his shoulders. Then she looked down into his eyes with that bright southern-Atlantic-blue gaze of hers. He felt lost. As if he were drowning in her eyes.

She nipped at his lower lip and then sucked it into her mouth and he hardened. He was going to explode if he didn’t get his damned tailored pants off and bury himself in her body.

He reached for his fly but she shifted on him, rubbing her center over his erection. He shook, and the strength left his legs as he stumbled and fell back on the bed. She laughed and then thrust her tongue into his mouth again. And he gave up thinking.

She was like the wildest hurricane and all he could do was ride this storm out. She moved over him and made him remember what it felt like to be alive. The same way she had four weeks ago in Key West. She made the rest of the world pale, and everything narrowed to the two of them.

The heat flared between them and his clothes felt too constricting. He needed to be naked. Wanted her naked. Then she could climb back on his lap. He tore his mouth from hers, his breath heavy as he drew her T-shirt up and over her head and tossed it aside.

She wore the same beige lace bra she’d had on the last time they’d had sex. He traced his finger over the seam where the fabric met skin, saw the goose bumps spread from her breast over her chest and down her arms. Her nipple tightened and he leaned forward to rub his lips over it as he reached behind her back and undid the bra.

The cups loosened, but he didn’t lift his head from her nipple. He continued teasing her with light brushes of his tongue over it until she reached between them and undid his tie, leaving it dangling around his neck as she went to work on his shirt buttons.

He shifted back, taking the edge of her bra between his teeth and pulling it away. She laughed, a deep, husky sound he remembered so well. And he got even harder. He had thought there was no way he could want her more, but he’d been wrong.

She pushed the fabric of his shirt open and peeled it down his arms, but she hadn’t undone his cuffs so his own shirt bound him. His hands were trapped.

“Undo my hands.”

“Not yet, Rafe. Right now, I’m in charge,” she said. She scraped her fingernail down the side of his jaw to his neck and then over his pectorals. He sat there craving more of her touch, but damned if he was going to ask her for it. Control and power were two things he always maintained. But with Emily it was as if they’d flown out the window.

She took what she wanted, and though he’d never admit it out loud, he didn’t want to stop her. It felt good to just let go.

Flexing her fingers, she dug her nails into his chest and then shifted forward so that the long strands of her hair brushed against him. He shuddered with need, turning his head to try to catch her mouth with his, but she just laughed again and shifted back on his thighs, looking down at him with those eyes that were full of mysteries he knew he’d never really understand.

She drew one finger down the center of his chest, following the path of the light dusting of hair. She swirled her finger around his belly button in tiny circles that made everything inside him contract.

She stroked his erection through the fabric of his pants, and he canted his hips.

She rocked against him and smiled when he moaned her name. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she caught the lobe of his ear between her teeth and bit it lightly before whispering all the things she was going to do him. He felt his control slipping with each thrust of her tongue as she flicked it into his ear and then shifted backward on his thighs to reach between them, stroking his length through his pants again.

Cursing, he tried to reach for her but his bound arms wouldn’t let him. She rotated her shoulders and rubbed her nipples against his chest. She closed her eyes as she undulated against him, and this time he pulled his arms forward with all of his strength and heard the tear of fabric. She opened her eyes and then started laughing.

He grabbed her waist and rolled to his side, pulling her with him. He rolled over top of her, carefully keeping his weight on his elbows and knees so she wasn’t crushed under him. He took both of her hands in his and stretched them high over her head and then rubbed his chest over hers and heard her moan.

Damn, she felt good. Better than he’d remembered her feeling, and that said a lot because he still had erotic dreams of their weekend together.

He lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth, holding both of her wrists above her head with one of his hands. He reached lower between their bodies and undid her jeans, pushing them down so that he could cup her in his hand. He rubbed her mound, and then traced the seam of her panties. Her legs scissored underneath his and he shifted until he lay between them. He let go of her wrists as he slowly kissed his way down her body.

She was covered in freckles; up close he could see that they were all different sizes. He flicked his tongue over each of them as he moved lower and lower until he found her belly button ring. The small loop had a starfish dangling from it. He tongued it and traced the circumference of her belly button.

He moved lower, catching the top of her bikini panties with the tip of his finger and drawing them slowly down. She shifted her hips and he pushed her jeans and panties down to her knees. She kicked them the rest of the way off.

He traced the pattern of freckles from her thigh to her knee, circling her kneecap and the small scar there before caressing his way back up the inside of her thighs. He felt the humid warmth of her body and traced her feminine core with his fingertip. She shifted on the bed, her hands reaching for him, but it was his turn to tease her. Plus if she touched him, he feared his control would splinter into a million pieces and this would be over too quickly.

He parted her folds and then leaned down to taste her. He closed his eyes as he sucked her intimate flesh, causing her to draw her legs closer around him and her hands to fall to the back of his head. She gripped his hair as her hips lifted upward toward his mouth and his tongue.

She was addicting. He couldn’t get enough of her. He pushed one finger into her body and heard her call his name. She was wet and ready for him. He fumbled, trying to free himself from his trousers. He lifted his head, looked up at her and saw that she was watching him. Her eyes were filled with passion and desire.

He stood up, shoved his pants and underwear off in a move that definitely couldn’t be called graceful, and then he lowered himself on top of her. He slowly used his chest and body to caress hers as he moved over her. She shifted her legs so that her thighs were on either side of his and he moved his hips forward, felt the tip of his erection at the opening of her body. He hesitated. This time was different from their weekend in Key West, but the passion in her eyes was the same.

Slowly he entered her, trying to make it last because she felt so damned good. She gripped his rock-hard flesh as he entered her and drove himself all the way home and then forced himself to stay still once he was fully seated in her body.

Her hands were on his shoulders, running up and down his back and then reaching lower to cup his butt and try to get him to move. But he needed a moment before he did that. A moment to make sure that she was with him. He lowered his head to her neck, and then bit her lightly before moving lower, kissing the full globes of her breasts.

She tightened as she arched underneath him. She looked up at him and whispered dark, sexual words that made his control disappear along with his willpower, and he found himself thrusting deeper into her body. Driving toward his climax and carrying her along with him.

He pushed her legs higher, putting her feet on his shoulders so he could go deeper, and pounded into her faster and faster until he heard her calling out his name and he spilled himself inside her. He thrust into her three more times before he let go of her legs and fell forward, bracing himself on his arms. He kissed the pert pink nipple on her left breast as he rested his head on her shoulder and tried to catch his breath.

He got up and left her for a few moments to wash up and then came back and lay down next to her on the bed. He was aware of the time and knew he should already be at the private airport and getting on his family’s jet so he could travel with them to Alma, but he couldn’t make himself leave.

He knew that this wasn’t love. He wasn’t going to lie to her or himself. But she was pregnant with his child and this fired him with an enthusiasm he just couldn’t muster when he thought of being king. He didn’t want the throne, but his father, who couldn’t inherit it because he’d never had his marriage annulled after divorcing Rafe’s mother, had been very clear that he thought Rafe needed to do his duty.

He stroked his hand down Emily’s arm. She had turned on her side and had her head on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I’m glad you came here today. Did you ever think of not telling me?” he asked.

He suspected he knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from her.

“No. It wasn’t easy to track you down—you’re pretty secretive about this penthouse bachelor pad, aren’t you? But Harry has lots of friends who have connections. It only took him six hours to find you.”

“Harry scares me,” Rafe admitted. The owner of Shady Harry’s bar had been fun and gregarious when Rafe had been partying and buying rounds for the entire place. But the next morning when he’d spotted the older man as he’d left Emily’s cottage, Harry had given him a look that said to watch his back. “What’s he to you?”

“He and my mom dated for a while,” Emily said. “He’s sort of like my stepdad. Why?”

“I have a feeling if I show up in Key West he’s going to be waiting with a shotgun.”

“You’re not going to Key West, you’re going to Alma. I’ve seen pictures. It’s really beautiful,” she said.

Not as beautiful as she was, Rafe thought. He leaned up on his elbow, put his hand flat on her stomach and realized he couldn’t control this any more than he could say no to the people in Alma who’d asked his family to come back and rule the country.

“It is. They’ve had a rough time since the revolution and I guess…I have to go,” he said.

“I know. I told you I wasn’t here to ask you to stay. I just needed you to know.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know my dad. My mom has never mentioned his name to me. I asked her one time about him and she started crying. I want more than that for our baby. It’s not that I had a deprived childhood, but I always wonder. I have this emptiness inside me that nothing can fill. It’s that empty spot where everyone else has a dad.”

He was humbled by her explanation. He knew he wanted to be more than a name and a face to their kid, though. “We need to figure this out.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Rafael? Are you in here? Your father is in a car waiting downstairs and if you’re not down in ten minutes he’s coming up here and getting you.” It was his personal assistant, Jose.

Jose was his right-hand man at Montoro Enterprises and at home. He took care of all the details.

“I have company,” Rafe said. But Emily was more than just company. She was his lover. The mother of his unborn child.

“I am aware of that,” Jose said.

“Tell Father I’ll be down when I’m down,” Rafe said.

But the mood was broken and Emily was getting up and putting her clothes on. She had her jeans on and buttoned, but he stopped her before she put her T-shirt on. He pulled her into his arms. It seemed the sort of gesture that would reassure her, but since he was already thinking of everything he had to do, it felt hollow. He knew she noticed it, too, when she pulled back and shook her head.

The mantle of being a Montoro was tightening around him. “I—”

“Don’t. No excuses and definitely no lies,” she said. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card for Shady Harry’s; he turned it over and saw she’d written her name and number on the back. “If you want to know about our child, contact me.”

“I do. I will,” he said.

She smiled up at him. “I know that the next few weeks are going to be crazy for you, so no pressure.”

She pulled her shirt on and then tucked her underwear into her purse and started for the door. He watched her walk out. Part of him wanted to run after her and make her stay so he could talk her into trying a relationship or maybe even marriage. Another part wanted to scoop her up and run away with her to some Pacific island where no one would know their names, far enough away from his family and everyone they knew.

But Emily was a brave sort of woman, and running had never been his style, either, so he had no choice but to get dressed and head down to the car.

His father didn’t speak to him the entire way to the airport. Rafael III had wanted the throne enough to try to convince his ex-wife to come back, but Rafe’s mother wasn’t interested in doing anything to help out her former husband. To say the two of them had a strained relationship was putting it mildly.

They were a prime example of how getting married to the wrong person didn’t make for a happy family. Rafe had the childhood to prove it.

During the ride, his cousin Juan Carlos spoke too much. Telling him what was expected of the next king of Alma.

Juan Carlos had been orphaned and seemed to be fixated on the monarchy as a way of proving to himself and the rest of the family that he could carry on his parents’ legacy. Perhaps if Rafe’s parents hadn’t divorced and been horrible to each other, he’d have felt the same way about the family honor.

Rafe freely admitted to himself that if Emily’s pregnancy became public knowledge it would create a scandal that would make protecting that legacy even more difficult. But Rafe tuned Juan Carlos out and tried to figure out what he expected of himself as a man.

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