Page 78 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Wren made a sound, half a moan, half a sob, her hands pressing against his chest, the warmth of her palms seeping through the cotton.

This was too good. This was everything he’d wanted, everything he’d been dreaming about, fantasising about, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up dragging her away to some dark corner and ravishing her utterly.

But once in a dark corner wasn’t his goal, he knew that now.

He wanted her to come to him. He wanted her to be as desperate and hungry as he was. He wanted her to agree to sleep in his bed every night and to never leave it. But to do that he had to keep her wanting.

So he let go of her chin and lifted his head, looking down into her darkened eyes. ‘That was for the press, little bird,’ he said quietly. ‘If you want something for yourself, you know where to come.’ Then he took her wrists in his hands and pulled her hands from his chest, and gave her a smile that was just on the edge of dark. ‘Now, are you ready to rejoin the party?’

Chapter Five

The rest of the ball passed in a blur for Wren. Isandro’s kiss had utterly destroyed her concentration and she had no idea how to get it back.

The ball had started off being difficult and as the evening progressed, it had only got harder and harder. She’d thought people’s disapproval of her would be the hardest thing to deal with, but it wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t.

It was being close to Isandro all night, with his hand on her hip, the heat of his palm burning through the silk. Burning her. Scorching her. His tall, powerful body was hot, too, and the spice of his aftershave intoxicating. His presence undid her in ways she hadn’t been expecting, and that was her own fault. She’d wanted to revel in not having to hide her feelings for him, but she’d also wanted not to be seduced by him, and that had been an impossible tightrope to walk.

She’d thought the fresh air would do her good, clear her head, but then he’d stepped close and taken her chin in his hand, and his mouth had been on hers before she could pull away. And once it was, she hadn’t been able to move.

Oh, she could tell herself it had been because they were in public and jerking away from her fiance’s kiss would turn heads. But she knew the truth. She hadn’t pulled away because she hadn’t wanted to. She’d wanted his kiss. She’d been desperate for it. And once that beautiful mouth had been on hers, all she’d wanted was more.

That one kiss in his office, desperate and frantic and feverish, had been over far too soon, though the memory of it had been burned into her mind for ever. But the one on the terrace, a delicate brush of his mouth before the touch of his tongue, had been aching, melting, like warm syrup, and all she’d wanted was to sink into it. Sink into him. She hadn’t meant to touch him, but her hands had risen helplessly to his chest, pressing against all that hard, hot muscle.

A good job she wasn’t having any alcohol because that kiss had been nothing but intoxication and she was still trembling with it.

As they moved through the room, she could hardly think. Her mouth felt sensitised, as if he’d branded her with that kiss and everyone could see the mark. She didn’t know what to do with herself.

His hand stayed on her hip and she could feel every inch of it, the pressure of his arm at her back dizzying. The deep, warm sound of his voice as he greeted people echoed through her, and she found herself glancing up at him every minute or so, unable to tear her gaze from his face.

Why had he kissed her? He’d mentioned it being a photo-op, but he hadn’t looked anywhere but at her, so she only had his word for it. Then again, why else would he have done so?

You know why. You know what he’s doing. He doesn’t like that you refused him and now he’s getting his own back.

The realisation wound through her brain, sharp as a razor. He’d never been a man who liked being denied, and that day at breakfast, when she’d told him that their marriage wouldn’t be physical, he’d been angry about it. Oh yes, he’d been furious. But then he’d let it go, and at the time she hadn’t understood why. Now, though, it made sense.

He’d decided to seduce her, hadn’t he? He was the King, he was used to getting what he wanted, and he wanted her. Or at least he did in a physical sense, and that was probably why he had his arm around her so often tonight, making sure he was always touching her in some way. He was reminding her of their physical chemistry and how incendiary it could be, the bastard.

As they finished speaking to some dignitaries from Japan, Wren pulled herself away, needing the distance to clear her head. She had to figure out what to do about it, because if she kept allowing him to touch her, kiss her, she wasn’t going to be able to hold out against him. She’d fall into his bed as easily she’d sat on his desk and let him spread her legs.

It couldn’t happen. This was already hard enough for her, and sleeping with him would end up with her giving him everything and him giving her nothing in return. She was so tired of having nothing.

Isandro glanced at her as she pulled away, his black brows drawing down in concern. ‘Are you all right? Do you need another break?’

She put a hand to her forehead. ‘I…actually think I might need to go to bed.’

His frown deepened, and he caught her other hand, pulling her into a quieter corner of the ballroom, next to a large pot of carefully arranged flowers. ‘What is it?’ he asked with some concern. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’

It wasn’t for her, that concern. It was likely all for the baby, and fair enough. If she’d actually felt unwell, but she didn’t.

‘No,’ she said, deciding to take the bull by the horns and say it. ‘I just don’t like your seduction plan.’

His blue gaze flickered, and she felt a curious satisfaction that she’d been right. That’s exactly what he’d been doing with the touches and kisses. Now the question was whether he’d deny it.

‘Seduction plan,’ he echoed. ‘Interesting choice of words. I thought we were supposed to be giving the public a love story.’

So, he was going with denial. Stupid, stupid man.

‘The public didn’t need that kiss,’ she pointed out.