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This prince, this Draco Marcellus Valenti, was an anachronism. He lived in an elegant past with no idea the rest of the world was living in the twenty-first century.
Like that guy in the VIP lounge who thought he owned the world, owned people …
And any woman he wanted.
He probably could.
Women, idiots that they were for good looks, undoubtedly fawned all over him.
But not her.
Not her, no matter how his mouth felt on hers, how his arms felt around her, how alive that one kiss had made her feel …
Ridiculous.
He’d kissed her for a purpose. To show her that he was male, and powerful, and sexy.
But did that impress her? Ha, Anna thought, and she put her head back and closed her eyes.
What was sexy about a man with a low, deep voice? With darkly lashed eyes that were neither brown nor gold, and a face that might have been carved by an ancient Roman sculptor? With a body so leanly muscular she’d felt fragile in his arms, and that was saying a lot for a woman who stood five foot eight in her bare feet.
What could possibly be sexy about being kissed like that, as if an absolute stranger had the power to possess her? To put his mark on her, as if she were his woman?
Anna shifted in her seat.
What if instead of slugging him, she’d wound her arms around his neck? Opened her mouth to his? What would he have done?
Would he have said to her, Forget that plane. That flight. Come with me. We’ll go somewhere dark and private, somewhere where I can undress you, whisper things to you. Do things to you …
A tiny sound vibrated in her throat.
She could almost feel it happening. The kisses. The caresses. And then, finally, he’d take her. She’d been with men. Sex was as much a woman’s pleasure as a man’s, but this would be—it would be different.
He would make her moan, make her writhe, make her cry out …
“Signorina?”
Make her cry out …
“Signorina. Forgive me for disturbing your sleep.”
Anna’s eyes flew open.
It was him. The man from the lounge. The man who had kissed her.
The man whose kiss she could still feel on her lips.
He was standing in the aisle, looking down at her. And the little smile on his beautiful mouth stole her breath away.
CHAPTER THREE
DRACO watched as the woman’s eyes flew open.
Blue, just as he recalled, but to say only that was like saying that the seas that surrounded Sicily were blue.
Not so.
The colors of the Ionian Sea, the Tyrrhenian Sea, the Mediterranean were more than blue. And so were her eyes.
