Page 48 of Falling for the King

‘Yes, and yes.’

He opened his mouth to … howl his denial! Agree?

‘Don’t say anything else, not tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. I need time to think.’ She hurried across the room without another glance at him and headed to her room. Alone. He stood exactly where he was and wondered how on earth he was going to fix this. Because that’s what he did, fixed things. Yet the harrowing thought wouldn’t leave him, he didn’t know how to fix this.

Chapter 13

Katerina woke the next morning tangled in her bedsheets, her heart racing as memories slammed into her.

Last night.

With Xavier.

Another shot of heat raced through her.

Oh God. It hadn’t been a dream. A hot sexy dream. It really had happened.

Burying her face into her pillow she tried to stop the images.

Flat on her back on the table.

His hands, mouth on her. Hers on him. Touching him, encouraging him.

Wanting more. Much more.

A mortified whimper escaped her. She rolled over. No. She wasn’t going to remember that.

Instead, she focused on when self-protection rallied, her brain overriding her treacherous body and she’d told him to stop. Fused together she’d felt his tension straight through the flimsy silk she’d worn.

She squirmed.

No. She wasn’t going to remember that either.

She’d best remember his look of disgust when he’d stepped away. And the longer she talked, the more horrified he’d become. Because she’d thrown herself at him? He’d responded? Or that he’d guessed that she loved him? No. Not that. Never that.

Suddenly, the surrounding quietness dawned on her. The howling wind had stopped. She grabbed the clock on the antique bedside table checking the time, it was early morning. Pushing aside the bedding on the four-poster bed she opened the thick curtains, early morning light revealed a sea of white but the snow had thankfully ceased falling.

She should be thrilled because maybe now they could leave, instead she was sad and disappointed in herself. She’d jeopardised everything because she couldn’t control herself around him. And Xavier would know. He could barely miss how attracted she was to him. She’d thrown herself at him and then backed away like a big tease when he’d taken what she’d so blatantly offered. She sank onto the side of the bed trying to forget what they’d done. Almost done. Inexperienced as she was, she knew that was passion. The kind that odes were composed about, that overtook everything like common sense, self-preservation, right and wrong. Xavier mightn’t know about love, but he certainly knew about passion. And some lucky woman would get that, him, every night. He’d be a faithful, dynamic husband while she’d be alone in her bed trying to forget the feel of him, the taste, the look in his eyes. And what he could do with his mouth … oh my, that mouth. She pressed a hand to hers and reminded herself that she’d feel better when she got back to her normal routine and off this tour.

But first she’d have to face him. For a second she wavered, allowing the fantasy of leaving without seeing him, that no-one would notice her absence. She drew out a breath, that would never happen, and even if it were, she’d never do that.

Last night when she’d fled to her room aroused, scared and confused, she’d only had one plan, escape. Hours later when exhaustion had finally taken its toll and she claimed a few fitful hours of sleep, Xavier had featured in every one of her dreams. Now she faced the reality that she couldn’t escape her feelings, neither mind her responsibilities even if she left. They’d crossed a line last night, a big scary do not pass line.

On a sigh she grabbed the grey drab robe lying at the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in it. She’d been wearing it last night over her slinky pale nightdress, acting on her decision to wear lighter, brighter clothing, even in private. What she hadn’t planned on was Xavier seeing her like that. Yet that heated look he’d given her, which she couldn’t help but relish, had unleashed a tsunami of desire she still reeled from.

He looked, she wasn’t sure there was a word to describe how appealing he’d been in jeans and jumper, his sleeves pushed up, a darkened jaw and eyes pools of black. And that was before the kiss, when she’d first seen him, when he’d said he had something to tell her.

The photos—she’d forgotten about them. They’d be all over the internet by now and she’d been too distracted to check. Grabbing her phone she typed her name into the internet search bar, something she’d never normally do. With frustrating slowness her phone responded.

Falling for you.

Xavier and Katerina, affair exposed!

Pretty in pink.

King kills brother for Princess.

Her shoulders slumped, her stomach churned. Most of the headlines, accompanying images and stories were as atrocious as she’d anticipated. Despite all the media training she’d had, the advice she’d received, she’d always found it hard to push past the intrusion and speculation. A wave of nausea rose, this was worse because it was about her and Xavier and neither deserved it. Except of course her attraction to him was real. She pressed a hand to her stomach and refused to dwell on that. Instead she headed for a shower, she needed a plan and needed one now.