Courting His Royal Highness (15 page)

“Take me to bed,” she whispered. She pressed her lips to his. “Make love to me, Max. Make love to me.”

“I’d hoped for that. I’d so hoped for that.” He returned her tentative kiss ardently. The kiss took Chloe’s breath away.

“Oh, Max.” She sighed softly before collapsing against him, giving herself completely to him. She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes, loving the steady thump-thump sound of his heart.

He swept her into his arms and swam through the water, hurrying towards the shallow edge. Once there, he carried her up the steps and through the courtyard, into the foyer and up the wide flight of stairs, and finally down the hallway to her bedroom. He turned the knob and flung open the door, stepped inside, and kicked the door shut behind them.

Chloe laughed as Max tossed her onto the bed with such force the pillows bounced against the headboard and slid to the floor. She watched with wide eyes as he stripped from his swimwear, sliding the black shorts off his slim hips and down his toned thighs and calves.

Desire flamed bright in his eyes as he looked at her. “I’m going to take you fast, Chloe. I can’t wait. I’m too impatient.”

Intense, all-consuming warmth pooled in her middle. She knelt on the bouncy bed and unhooked the top of her bikini, removing it with one hand and dangling it in front of him, giving him an unobstructed view of her breasts. They exchanged seductive smiles before she threw the bright pink top at a nearby lamp, where it attached itself to the lampshade.

“I don’t want to wait either,” she told him. She stood up and slipped the bikini bottom off, twirling it with her big toe before sending it sailing it across the room, where it hit the far wall and fell into a small pink heap by the door to the walk-in closet.

Chloe couldn’t believe her brashness. She had always been a bit shy in the bedroom. But there was something about Max, something special that made him different from every man she’d ever met or had a relationship with. She didn’t feel self-conscious standing before him in her birthday suit; she felt glorious and womanly and powerful. And he looked at her with so much heat in his eyes she melted inside. She wanted to share everything with him. She wanted to give him her entire self.

“Come to me,” she commanded in a voice that sounded like some exotic temptress from a Greek myth. She crooked her finger at him, beckoning him to join her on the bed.

He complied, jumping onto the bed none too gracefully. He wrapped his arms around her and dragged her down onto the bed. His lips burned trails of delicious kisses up and down her arms and legs and across her belly and breasts, where the feel of his mouth enclosing her nipples sent her into a tailspin of ecstasy.

She moved her hips eagerly, encouragingly beneath him. The turbulent, delicious, soul-shattering emotions he provoked in her overwhelmed her. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. It was so beautiful. They were so beautiful together. This was heaven on earth.

Max placed his elbows on either side of her head, resting his weight on his arms. His fingers splayed through her hair. He looked down into her eyes … and she lost herself to him all over again. This time she lost her heart and soul. The tears continued to fall, and she bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing.

He smiled sadly. “I think I know why you cry. I know because I feel the same.”

A sob escaped. He brushed the tears from her cheeks with his kisses. He showered kisses upon her, kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her lips, and the curve of her jaw. She clutched at him, holding him as close as she could. Her body strained towards his.

“Max. Max.” She said his name over and over again. Ten times. Fifty times. One hundred times. She didn’t know. “Love me, Max. Love me.”

“Yes,” he murmured against her collarbone.

He plunged deep inside her.

Chloe screamed with pleasure. She threw her head back and danced with him, matching each of his thrusts with her own. It didn’t take long for her to reach her climax. It came quick and hot and shattering, exploding through her like a million fireworks on the Fourth of July. The orgasm was so intense she bit his shoulder and tasted the saltiness of blood. Her nails dug into the skin of his back. He followed her scream with one of his own, his body tensing as his orgasm ripped through his body.

Finally, he collapsed at her side and snuggled close to her. Chloe hugged him tightly, enjoying the last echoes of her orgasm.

“Wow,” she let out in utter amazement.

“Wow,” he agreed, kissing the crown of her head.

“You were right.”

“About what?”

She waved one arm in the air, indicating their entwined bodies. “About doing this.”

“You’re one incredible woman, Chloe Tanner.”

She traced his mouth with her fingers. “And you are one incredible man, Prince Max of Romalia. Stay with me tonight.”

Max kissed her tenderly. “I can’t imagine going anywhere else.”

“Hmmm. Good.” Chloe closed her eyes and draped a leg over his hip. “I should hate this blasted show.”

“And why don’t you?”

Chloe yawned. The day and their lovemaking had exhausted her. “Because it brought us together for a little while. We wouldn’t be together without it.”

“But it’s also keeping us apart.”

“I know. That’s why I should hate it.” Chloe rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. He smelled so good—a scent of soap and chlorine and masculinity. His chest hairs tickled her nose.

“But I don’t hate it—at least not tonight. Goodnight, my prince.”

She felt his smile against her hair. “Goodnight, my lady.”

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Chloe curled further under the sheets. She didn’t want to open her eyes. She didn’t want to face the day. She preferred to stay buried under the covers, blocking out the entire world and remembering the steamy night she’d shared with Max.

Just the thought of his hands on her, his lips on her, and his body on hers made her flush. He’d been so extraordinary last night, so amazingly wonderful, and she wanted to stay in his strong arms forever. They’d made love three times in the early hours of the morning, neither getting a bit of sleep. When they weren’t ravishing each other, they talked and talked and talked. She felt she’d never known a man so intimately, on so many levels.

Chloe snuggled against the pillow. She knew he was gone. He’d slipped from her bed at daybreak, placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth before he left. She missed him. She missed the feel of his long, muscled body next to hers. She loved how he spooned her gently against his naked body and kissed her neck and rested the palm of his hand against her belly.

She loved him.

And he could never be hers.

Chloe tossed off the covers with a strangled cry and glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand by her bed. It was ten o’clock. She should’ve been up two hours ago. The crew had probably arrived already. She couldn’t remember her itinerary for the day, but she knew Max was booked the entire day. The I-want-to-be-a-princess hopefuls arrived today for a catered dinner held poolside. They would meet Max at the dinner, and
Courting His Royal Highness
would officially begin.

“I hate this,” Chloe mumbled to the empty room. “I hate this, hate this, hate this!”

She felt like calling Julia, but refrained from picking up her cell phone. Communication with the outside was strictly forbidden. Secrecy enveloped the show; it was important for its success. She was surprised they hadn’t snatched away her link to the outside world, but they probably would eventually. It was just a matter of time. EVE was obsessed with protecting the show’s secrets from the public until it aired. Max’s choice of a bride had to be a surprise for the viewers; otherwise, they wouldn’t watch, and EVE’s expensive endeavor would be one expensive disaster.

Chloe heard voices outside the window. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching and wiggling her fingertips at the ceiling. She grabbed a silky robe, slid her feet into flip-flops, and crossed the floor to the open balcony doors. A soft breeze ruffled her tousled hair as she stepped out onto the small patio. She leaned over the railing and saw the production crew hard at work.

About a dozen people mingled below. Some set up lights, others yelled orders, and others rearranged the multitude of potted flowers and other plants that decorated the pool area. All were dressed in khaki shorts and matching blue T-shirts with
Courting His Royal Highness
emblazoned across the back.

She was disappointed not to see Max among them. She already missed his lopsided grin, the bright twinkle in his eyes, and the foreign accent of his voice. She wondered what he looked like in full royal attire. She’d only ever seen him dressed like a regular guy. To be fair, he looked better than any regular guy she’d ever seen dressed in a suit or jeans or a simple pair of dress pants, but she still wondered what he looked like attending a royal Romalian ceremony.

It dawned on her as she watched the hectic activity below that she knew absolutely nothing about his country. She knew it was a small European nation, so tiny it had about as much landmass as Rhode Island. She knew Max was due to inherit and become king as soon as his mother made the decision to relinquish the crown, which she’d held for thirty years. He had twin brothers and one sister, all of whom made headlines on a daily basis because they were single and loving it; however, they could afford to continue their single-and-free antics. Max couldn’t. Not any longer, anyway. He was the oldest; therefore, it was time for him to get serious about his role as heir to Romalia, find a wife, and produce heirs to continue tradition.

Chloe crossed her arms on top of the railing and smiled as one of the frantic assistants almost fell in the pool because she was too busy jotting down directions, which one of the producers was yelling at her, in a notebook. Poor thing. She looked about ready to cry; she appeared to be about nineteen or twenty. A young thing, probably her first job.

Chloe focused her attention back on Max. She couldn’t imagine the pressure of being an heir to a kingdom. Max seemed to take it all in stride. He’d been born into his position. He knew his role in life, who he was, and he accepted it.

Now, she wondered where she belonged. She wished she knew. She only knew she was always reaching, always looking, and always searching for something. She’d thought her goal was a career in the movies, but after meeting Max, she wasn’t so sure. She felt safe and comfortable with him; she felt at home with him. The knowledge was at once wonderful and unsettling.

Chloe pushed away from the railing and went back into her room, where she collapsed into an oversized chair decorated in a Southwestern motif and curled her legs up underneath her. Resting her head on its back, she closed her eyes and tried a yoga-meditation technique.

She gave up after the fifth try. Her body and brain couldn’t calm down long enough to relax—and she couldn’t clear her mind of images of Max. He was everywhere when she closed her eyes. Blanking out and concentrating on nothing except slow, steady breathing was not going to happen this morning. She was too stressed for yoga practice, but that was why she needed it so badly. It always helped to find her center, to calm her down, and to give her the strength and positive attitude she needed to face life’s challenges.

Chloe sighed and admitted defeat, standing and walking into the adjoining bathroom. She turned on the water in the gigantic shower—it could fit four people at once—and quickly brushed her teeth and gurgled with Listerine. She grimaced at the taste. Even the citrus flavor tasted like medicine and left an awful aftertaste. She secured her robe on a hook behind the bathroom door and stepped into the tiled shower surrounded on all four sides by glass doors. Wishing she had time for a nice long soak in the whirlpool tub, she cast a longing glance at it before immersing her body in the spray. Tonight she’d take a bath; she’d need it after seeing Max flirt with gorgeous women.

Her thoughts once again drifted to Max. She couldn’t shake him from her mind. He was everywhere. She almost hated to wash his scent from her body; it was probably the last intimate part of him she’d ever share. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment. She wondered if he was thinking of her.

I want to go home.
Chloe groaned miserably. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo, squeezed out a dime-sized dollop, and viciously began to lather her hair.

A few weeks ago, when she’d gotten the call she’d been selected to be the hostess of a new reality TV series that was sure to be a hit, she’d been ecstatic. She’d thought the doors were finally opening for her and life was about to change. Well, it had changed all right, but it didn’t feel like a change for the better. Her world was topsy-turvy, and not in a good way. Nope. Not at all.

Chloe tipped her head back and rinsed the soapy suds from her dark mass of hair. As soon as the dark tresses squeaked between her fingers, she grabbed the conditioner and massaged the moisturizing balm into the ends.

She needed a game plan in order to survive the next six weeks. It would take all her willpower to push Max from her mind. She had to try and remember he was just a guy, no different than the other guys she’d dated over the years. He didn’t mean anything to her. She could forget what they’d shared. She knew she could. She had to—it was the only way she would survive. It was only six weeks. It wasn’t like it was a lifetime or anything.

But it felt like a lifetime.

Chloe angrily tossed a chunk of heavy hair over her shoulder and stomped her foot on the wet floor. She loved him. She loved Prince Max of Romalia, but royal princes didn’t marry farm girls from Minnesota. It just didn’t happen. Okay, maybe in a fairy tale, but this wasn’t a fairy tale.

“I’m no princess in disguise,” Chloe murmured woefully. “There’s no happy ending for me.”

But those women competing for a chance to be his bride weren’t members of the royalty either.

“That’s right!” Chloe crowed happily. Her happiness quickly vanished. Although it was comforting to know Max didn’t care if he married a woman with royal blood or not, she still didn’t have a chance in hell at becoming his bride.