Page 38 of Promoted To His Princess

Calista opened her mouth to respond to that particular insanity, but just at that moment Xerxes pushed himself up and out of the water in one fluid, powerful movement, and everything she’d been going to say went straight out of her head.

He straightened, the sheen of the water on his skin outlining every muscled inch, and Calista found herself staring. Then she blinked as she realised something.

He was naked. Completely, gloriously naked.

Wild heat rushed through her. ‘You’re not wearing anything,’ she said stupidly.

‘No. It’s my pool and the staff have all gone home for the day.’ His mouth curled in that seductive way. ‘Why don’t you join me? You look like you could do with some cooling off.’

She barely heard, unable to stop looking at him. He was a work of art, the setting sun making his skin gleam, the hard lines and white scars a map she wanted to follow with her fingers, or like braille, a story she could read just by touching him.

Something caught in her chest, and before she knew what she was doing, she was walking slowly towards him. He didn’t move, watching her approach, an answering heat flickering in his eyes.

She stopped inches from him and lifted a hand to one of the long, slashing scars across his abdomen.

His fingers closed hard around her wrist.

Calista looked up in surprise.

He wasn’t smiling now, the lazy seductiveness had vanished, leaving behind it something fierce she didn’t understand.

He said nothing, only looked at her, his grip on her wrist almost painful.

There was a tightness in her chest. He didn’t want her touching him, that was obvious. But she didn’t understand why, not when he hadn’t had a problem with it before. Was it the scars? Or something else?

‘What?’ she asked. ‘You didn’t seem to have a problem with me touching you the other night.’

He was silent, a muscle leaping in his jaw. Then, very deliberately, he let go.

Her heartbeat thumped hard behind her ribs. She shouldn’t push him, because she could see that for some reason this was painful. But she wanted to know why. And she had the sense that he wouldn’t give her any explanations, not if she didn’t push.

So, carefully, keeping her gaze on his, she brushed her fingers over the faded white scar. His skin was damp and cool from the water, and he tensed, his eyes darkening into black.

‘Does it still hurt?’ Calista asked softly.

‘No.’ His voice was rough, the word bitten off.

But something did, that was clear.

‘Is it from when you were captured?’

‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Another time.’

She frowned. ‘What time?’

He said nothing and the only warning was a flare of gold deep in the darkness of his eyes. Then he pushed one hand into her loose hair, pulling her head back, and his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was raw and it was hungry, and there was anger in it. No, he did not like her touching that scar.

She thought about pulling away and insisting on an explanation, but then his teeth sank into her lower lip and all thought scattered and dissolved like smoke in the wind.

The need she’d been fighting, the hunger she’d been trying to deny, flooded through her, sweeping away everything in its path. Her resistance, her armour, her control, all of it was gone.

She’d put both hands to his chest before she was even aware of what she was doing.

His grip in her hair tightened, the kiss deepening. His mouth was so hot and he tasted of freedom, of everything good and delicious she’d ever denied herself. It was a kiss that took, that conquered, that demanded her surrender, and she melted against his hard, wet body, giving it to him without even a thought.

The moisture on his skin dampened the silk of her robe, making it stick to her body. Making her aware of how hot she was and how cool he felt. She was burning up, sweat breaking out all over her, and she needed him to put out the flames.

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