Mr Right All Along

She moaned. She wanted more.

To really ride.

But still he moved slowly. He teased a hand between them, rubbing around her most sensitive spot with torturously gentle fingers—just enough to make her scream. She was so close. So insanely close. But as he pleasured her, the desire to please him sank deeper within her. She wanted to know that he felt this magic to the degree she did.

She cupped his jaw. ‘Eduardo.’

No matter that he hadn’t given her leave to address him by his Christian name. No matter that he was a prince and she a nobody. In this moment there was nothing but naked joy. No past, no promises. Nothing but now.

She groaned. ‘Please.’

She wanted him to move faster again, as he had before, when he’d been clothed and rocking against her. She spread her hands wide on his butt, squeezing the tight muscles, feeling the bunched strength of him slowly pumping into her.

It was so carnal. So delightful. Utterly unlike anything she’d known. And utterly addictive.

She didn’t want it to end. Yet she wanted something more so badly. She wanted him to feel this completion with her.

She moaned in frustration as he kept the pace infuriatingly yet tantalisingly slow. She could no longer form words, no longer think. She could only moan and strive to kiss him more.

Finally he moved faster. His thrusts became rougher. He cupped her buttocks with both his hands now, holding her so he could grind into her as deep as he could drive himself. The hold plastered him against her, sealing them tight together.

She loved it. She met his thrusts with hers, over and over, their bodies wet with sweat now rather than sea water. Her fingers curled, clawing into his skin.

‘Look at me,’ he ordered harshly through tightly clenched teeth.

She already was. She couldn’t look away. She’d never been able to look away.

His eyes bored into hers, their blue irises obliterated by passion-inflamed pupils. Only then her vision swam as her orgasm finally slammed into her like a wave sweeping over a rudderless yacht. She was capsized into a tumultuous sea of sensation.

His expression tightened almost to pain as he worked to hold his own release at bay. Instinctively she understood that he wanted to make her succumb once more before he did. But all she wanted was to feel his unrestrained passion. Somehow she had to summon it.

As her orgasm ebbed and feelings of bliss stole into every cell she fought harder, her fingers bruising, her mouth sucking, her tongue licking. She sought to touch him all over, to pull him over the edge with her. She poured every ounce of power she had into the passion she felt. Into somehow showing him what she wanted. And needed.

That was when she finally felt his massive body shaking—when his roar reverberated into her mouth as he gave in to it and released his hold on himself. His final thrusts came in a torrent of fury and lust. His satisfaction spurted. He shouted loud and rough, and sent her tumbling into the velvety hot darkness again.

He rested for only a moment. His breath blew hot and quick on her neck. Then his biceps bunched as he braced and pulled free of her embrace.

Suddenly empty and cold, she remained prone on the sand and shielded her eyes with her arm. She didn’t want to answer the questions she knew he was going to throw at her.

But he didn’t savage her. There was only silence.

Eventually she lowered her hand, forcing herself to look at him.

He was watching her face intently, and then ever so slowly he gazed down her body. The expression in his eyes was bleak and forbidding. She sat up, but it was too late to hide. The smear of rust-coloured blood on her thigh was incontrovertible evidence. But he already knew the truth.

‘Why?’ he asked harshly.

She had no answer she could give him.

‘You should have told me.’

‘I didn’t think it was important.’

‘You did not act like a virgin,’ he said icily.

‘How is a virgin supposed to act?’ she asked, every bit as frozen.

Shouldn’t she have enjoyed it? Shouldn’t she have pushed for all that she had? But she had enjoyed it. She’d been unrestrained, unfettered in her actions. And untutored.

She hadn’t been able to control her reaction to him. She’d been utterly lost in that flare of desire for him. And she refused to regret it now. She didn’t want him to regret it either. But it seemed he already did.

Before she could move he picked up her wallet, which she’d tossed to the side in her haste. Before she could think to snatch it from him he’d flicked it open, was reading her identity card.

The last of the delicious heat that had softened her fled. Dread solidified into a cold ball in the pit of her belly.

‘Zambrano... Lieutenant.’ He stood utterly still. ‘No relation of General Zambrano?’ He glanced at her, swiftly taking in her colouring, her features. ‘His daughter,’ he said brusquely.

He didn’t need to look at her as if she’d done something wrong.

‘You should have told me!’ he suddenly shouted. Irate.

But if she had he’d have stopped. He’d have recognised her surname and refused to continue. If she’d told him she was a virgin he’d have stopped then too. And she hadn’t wanted him to stop. She’d wanted this one thing, this one time, for herself.

But she hadn’t stopped to consider the consequences—these appalling moments afterwards. And the possible ramifications for her career.

She hadn’t thought he’d even notice her virgin status. She hadn’t thought it would be so obvious. She led such a physical life she’d not really thought she’d bleed. And she hadn’t thought it would really hurt like that. Nor had she thought it would feel that fantastic.

‘Why did you do this?’ He grabbed her arm. ‘I hurt you.’

The bruise around his eye was livid now—but it was nothing on the anger within his eyes.

A good soldier knew when to attack, when to stand and defend, and when to retreat. There was only one option for Stella now. She jerked her arm—was surprised when he let her go. Then she turned and struggled to pull her sodden shorts back on. She pulled the tee shirt on too. She didn’t bother with the ugly sports bra and plain panties, or even her shoes.

‘What are you doing?’ His voice was lethally quiet now.

‘I need to get back to the base.’

‘I will escort you there.’

‘You will not. You will go...wherever you were going in that.’ She gestured at the sodden sand-splattered suit now in a crumpled heap at his feet.

He glanced down and swore.

Stella turned away from him again—from the sight of him standing there tall and naked and filled with burning emotion. A crazy part of her wanted him all over again.

‘Lieutenant—’

‘No. There’s no need to say anything.’ She hated it that he referred to her by her rank now. ‘No one will ever know about this. You have my word,’ she said quickly, glancing to see his reaction.

He looked disbelieving.

‘I don’t kiss and tell,’ she snapped.

‘No, you just like to hit.’ He drew a breath. ‘And you are very good at it.’

‘It’s only a bruise. It will fade. There’ll be no scar.’

But what about for her? She feared she’d just got a wound that would run bone-deep and mark her for life. She couldn’t let it. She had to forget it. Her few minutes of heaven would be buried like a pirate’s treasure, deep in the bottom of her heart and mind. Never to be found again.

She turned and faced the cliff.

He grabbed her arm again. ‘You’re not going that way.’

She shook him off. ‘Watch me.’

She didn’t know whether he did or not. But being partially dressed while he was still devastatingly naked meant she had the advantage. She ran and pulled herself up the rocks with a speed and nimbleness exacerbated by adrenalin and anger and the remnants of sensual energy.

When she finally reached the top of the cliff she didn’t stop to turn and look. She just ran back to the base, the need for a fast escape driving her. Before she did something even more stupid like turning back and begging to see him again.

But he’d called after her.

‘Stella? Stella!’

Even months later she heard him calling. As much as she’d tried to forget him—forget that whole afternoon—when she closed her eyes she always heard his furious demand.

‘Stella!’

She frowned as she heard banging, then an ear-splitting splintering sound. She opened her eyes in time to see the door smashed open. Abruptly she was yanked back from memory into the present. Into the bathroom at the Palacio de Secreto Real. Where she was no longer alone in the shower.

Eduardo De Santis had been hollering her name here and now—and he was incandescent.

‘What the hell have you been doing all this time?’ His chest rose and fell, his muscles bunched from the effort of breaking down the bathroom door.

He stepped right into the stall and flicked the shower lever with a sharp, vicious movement, shutting off the jets of steaming water. But it was too late. His tee shirt was already wet. So were his jeans.

Memory melded with the present moment and she was speechless. Melting. Crazy.

‘Are you unwell? Did you almost faint again?’ He towered over as he interrogated her. ‘Stella?’

Dumbfounded, she stared up at him, registering his frown, his concern, his confusion. His fury.

Once more she was fascinated. He was magnificent. Mesmerising. And so mad with her.

Suddenly she was furious too. With her situation. With him. With her stupid lust-lost self. And she was too shocked, too ripped open, too angry to do anything but answer with an honest snarl.

‘I forgot, okay? I forgot.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘FORGOT WHAT?’ EDUARDO PRESSED his palms hard on the wall either side of her—imprisoning her, uncaring about impropriety. But it was better than grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. He needed to see she was okay and hear her say it.

Her pale blue eyes widened. Deepened. But she didn’t answer.

His heart thundered a furious tattoo. His muscles coiled as adrenalin streamed through his veins. He’d pounded that damn bathroom door for ages, imagining her to be unconscious and drowning or worse.

Reality was no less of an attack on his system.

Her lithe body was gloriously naked. Droplets of water glistened on every inch of her, as if she’d been dipped in diamonds. Dazzling perfection, her effect on him was akin to sorcery.

He forgot everything. To breathe. To think. To move.

The dazed look in her eyes mesmerised him. When he’d parted her thighs with his and pushed into the heart of her scorching heat she’d looked at him like this.

‘Stella...’ he muttered.

Still wordlessly casting her spell, she stared back up at him, a stormy, mouthwatering mix of softness and strength, all feminine sensuality. He fought back the urge to press his lips to hers.

He’d been unable to forget her energy and demand and passion that day. But afterwards she hadn’t just left. She’d run. The only lover who had. Eduardo was the one to end any liaison—gently but efficiently.

Tendrils of doubt had wormed in after her determined, hasty departure, bringing a hint of unwanted regret. He’d damn well tried to forget, but she’d lurked in the sea of his sleep, calling like a Siren. He envisaged every intimacy, pleasuring her beyond endurance, hearing her, tasting her, claiming her, over and over again. To his extreme annoyance he’d dreamt of her every single night since that day.

Filthy, soul-scorching dreams.

Never had he dreamt of a woman the way he had of her. Yet memory had served him poorly. In reality she was more vibrant, more luminous than any fantasy. The electrifying want within him was intolerable.

‘What did you forget?’ he snapped, whipping his vocal cords into action.

‘What are you doing in here?’ She tilted her chin.

Glimmering energy arced, zinging back and forth between them—desire, shock, anger.

‘Why didn’t you answer me?’ he countered.

‘You didn’t have to break down the door.’ Her cool voice belied the heat in her eyes.

‘You didn’t answer me.’ He measured his breathing, refusing to lose control, but temptation burned, stoked by her icy defiance.

‘I didn’t hear you.’ Sharper. Hotter.

His frown deepened. That wasn’t what he’d meant. He still wanted to know what it was she’d forgotten.

‘You were worried about me?’ Disbelief sparkled in her eyes.

‘Is that such a surprise?’ An hour ago she’d looked pale and scared. She looked neither now. ‘I was bringing you a tray of food.’

‘I didn’t ever imagine you in the role of delivery boy,’ she said.

‘How did you imagine me?’ He smothered his smile of pleasure at her weak attempt to put him in his place.

Her eyes flashed.

‘You can strike better than that,’ he added, in a deliberately provocative whisper.

‘We both know I can. But are you sure you want me to?’ she asked, her voice huskier.

Oh, yes—he wanted. ‘If you’re going to mark me, don’t make it my face. There were too many awkward questions last time.’

She drew in a sharp breath. Good. He’d got to her.

But she stepped up to the mark again. ‘If I hit you now, your soldiers would be here in a second.’

He smiled at her naïveté. ‘They’re under orders not to disturb me. I don’t need anyone’s help to handle you.’

Another flash lit her eyes. Another surge of adrenalin hit him.

‘Handle me?’ she snapped back. ‘Like I’m some dog that needs obedience training?’

She did need training. And it would be her choice of carrot or stick. He smiled at the possible interplay, given her unpredictability.

Having the fine-boned creature of so many dreams finally in front of him, he realised how much he’d thought of her over the last few weeks. How much she intrigued him.

‘Why did you do it?’ Not the question he’d been going to ask. He didn’t want her to know he’d spent so long wondering.

Her lashes lowered, veiling the blue, but she wouldn’t lower her guard. She wouldn’t tell him the truth.

Why the stab of disappointment? Why would he expect otherwise? No one opened up and confided in him. Not even those he cared most about. Especially not them.

In turn, Eduardo knew he couldn’t count on other people unless he paid them very well. That unpalatable truth came with being a prince. Loyalty to royalty was a thing of the past. Most people now were out for what they could get—fame and fortune. Both could be attained via a connection with him. And that was all he really had to offer—palace life, wealth, but no real power. No real purpose.

But riches and recognition were enough reward for some. He’d underestimated that particular hunger before and he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Instead he’d ensure that Stella was satisfied. She might not have told anyone about their tryst on the beach that day, but she’d not come to him when she’d realised the consequences either. Who knew what she’d been planning to do?

It no longer mattered. He’d buy both her silence and her obedience.

She’d be happy with the deal—he just needed to get it done before Antonio found out and tried to interfere. As it was, his brother would be highly suspicious of Eduardo’s sudden ‘illness’, which had forced him to cancel all his public engagements for the next few days and withdraw to Secreto Real to recuperate. Eduardo had cancelled only one engagement in his life. The afternoon he’d met Stella.

He’d not gotten a woman pregnant before her either.

‘Why did you do it?’ He wasn’t moving until she answered.

For a long moment there was only silence and steam.

‘Why wouldn’t I want to experience the best that San Felipe has to offer?’

She still didn’t look at him—at least not higher than his chest. Was it just the fantasy she’d wanted? Unrestrained sex in the surf with the playboy Prince?

Disappointment bit harder.

He’d never wanted to be the daredevil spare heir boring cliché. He’d striven to shake it off, initially indulging in the idealistic, ultimately unrealistic ambition of studying law. Then he’d tried the military, only to be thwarted there too.

The lovely Stella’s father had ruled out any possibility of Eduardo actively serving. He’d argued that it would cost too much to protect Eduardo, and any ‘value’ Eduardo might bring to the battalion would be outweighed by the risk to other soldiers’ lives. Securing Eduardo’s presence would take up too much resource.

In short, he wasn’t worth it because his princely title was too precious.

Antonio had sided with the General. In a five-minute, one-sided conversation they’d resigned him to a life of ‘leisure’, reduced to playing tourist in his own country. But, as so many citizens depended on the tourist industry for their economic survival, Eduardo did his very best—as he did in everything. But he did not particularly like General Carlos Zambrano.

As for his daughter...

She’d been absent from the General’s palace apartment for years, else Eduardo would have noticed her flaxen hair and her athletic, curved figure so much sooner. She’d been in New Zealand—schooled there, trained there. Yeah...thanks to his security department he knew all the facts, but the dossier they’d prepared didn’t give the detail he really wanted.

‘Just the once was enough for you?’ he asked.

She flicked the quickest of glances up. ‘As it was for you.’

Eduardo watched as a pink tide flowed over her cheeks, and unexpected emotion glinted before she swiftly lowered her lashes again. Clenching her jaw, she remained silent. Suddenly so determined not to respond.

He drew a soft breath and pushed harder against the shower wall to expend the energy threatening to burst through his skin. Did she doubt that he was still hot for her? Primal satisfaction ignited his fighting spirit. But this beautiful warrior woman did not want to admit her attraction to him.

Why didn’t she want to give in to it again when it would make this nightmare so much more bearable? Their chemistry had been—still was—incredible. He knew to his bones how good it would be when she was exactly where he needed her.

In her white dress, with his ring on her finger, in his bed. Not a minute before.

‘I don’t think once was enough,’ he said softly, unable to resist teasing her.

‘You never date a woman for more than a couple of nights.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Am I not just like all the others?’

There hadn’t been that many others in recent years. Now he was more playful than playboy—lots of flirt, little follow-though. It was safer when he knew how little he could trust.

Now her hint of jealousy fanned the inferno building within him. Sexual intensity almost overpowered him. He tried not to lower his gaze and drink in her bared beauty, but there were those dusky, tight nipples and the rounded breasts, the tight, flat abs, the tempting thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs, those dazzling droplets of water all over her.

He wanted to feel her flush against him. He’d have to rip off his saturated shirt and jeans, though, and they were sticking so tight it would take too long, and he needed to feel her now—

‘As you can see—’ she interrupted his derailed thoughts with a voice slathered in sarcasm ‘—I’m perfectly fine. So you don’t need to worry. You can leave now.’

His gaze shot back to hers and his face heated. So caught. But she thought she could order him out...?

Eduardo was used to getting his own way. And he’d get it this time, because he was sure she was feeling this too. On an angry, lust-driven impulse he slowly, deliberately lowered his gaze again, blistering his senses, blatantly looking his fill at her jaw-droppingly gorgeous body.

He watched a trickle of water run from her hair to her skin, down the crest of her breast to her nipple, forming a drop there. His mouth was dry as dust and he craved a lick. Just one. Just one kiss.

His erection strained against his zipper. Lust clamoured a shrill mantra—kiss, kiss, kiss...

She quivered, the merest movement, as he ate her with his eyes, but she remained silent. Defiantly holding her head high.

Along with lust and need, another emotion snaked out from his gut—admiration. Then respect. And then regret.

What was he doing, standing over her like this? Invading her personal space? She was in the shower, for heaven’s sake.

She wasn’t going to let him intimidate her, let her nudity be a vulnerability. She was all armour. Even when naked she was stiffened with pride and rebellion and courage.

He wanted her. But more than that he wanted her to come to him—as willing and as tempting as she’d been that day on the beach.

‘Why did you run away afterwards?’ Why hadn’t she come to him to tell him she was pregnant?

Her lips parted, her mouth forming a wordless ‘oh’ while her anger burned brighter, melting into something else. But still she gave no damn answer.

That old disappointment was like salt in a freshly opened wound. But he didn’t move—he’d never been so focused on a woman, never spent so much effort trying to read what he could from the few physical signs she couldn’t help giving away.

Her hands were fisted at her sides. She was expending a lot of energy so as not to move. Just as he was. What didn’t she want to let herself do? Was she, like he, fighting the urge to reach out and touch? Or did she really want to fight, then flee?

On paper she appeared the perfect obedient soldier. Until that afternoon with him she’d not put a foot wrong—never left base without authorisation, never fraternised. No boyfriend. No parties. No fun.

She’d never had sex before either. Which he guessed meant she was not a natural hedonist. Sure, she’d gone full throttle once she’d let herself off the leash, but maybe the intensity had been too much for her?

It almost had been for him. Goosebumps still riddled his skin when he thought of it, and he was used to sex. She wasn’t. Had she been shaken emotionally? Had he hurt her that way? Was she afraid of him?

Suddenly he didn’t want to know any more. He wasn’t a man who could offer emotional support. He’d tried. He’d failed. More than once.

Stella wasn’t the first person not to turn to him in a time of crisis.

‘Eat the food I have brought,’ he growled, pushing away from the shower wall and forcing himself to step away from her.

He ignored the thunderclap of fury from the lust clouding his mind, urging him to stay and press closer. He wanted to make her feel so damn good she wouldn’t be able to stop pleading with him to do it again. But he was going to have to wait a bit longer for that little ego trip. Just till tomorrow.

‘Make yourself presentable,’ he said curtly, picking up one of the large white towels from the gleaming gold rail. ‘I will see you in the library.’

She snatched the towel he rigidly held out and wrapped it around her, hiding her delectable body from his ravenous eyes, leaving him immensely relieved. And viciously frustrated.

Angered with his fixation, he strode away. ‘Be quick.’

CHAPTER FIVE

STELLA FELT LIKE taking at least two hours, except years of drills and discipline overruled the petty desire to prove a point. She glanced at the treat-laden tray he’d carried to her room but her stomach was too knotted for her to attempt eating. She opened the door to the walk-in wardrobe and stared. Tags still hung on some items, and they were the right sizes and everything. Did he know her every personal detail? Damn army records.

Well, she wasn’t wearing anything he provided. She had pride.

She dressed in less than five minutes, dragging on her jeans again, pulling out a different tee shirt from further down her duffel bag. Then she laced up her trainers. She didn’t care what his idea of ‘presentable’ was.

But adrenalin scoured her veins. Her body knew she was in danger. Because what she’d forgotten—what she’d refused to admit aloud—was his impact.