A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(22)

Overly sensitized to his touch, Carlyne drew back abruptly, knocking all her French fries to the floor.

“Here.” Sean reached into his bag and grabbed a fry. He dipped it in ketchup and lifted it to her lips.

His eyes were full of challenge and something else entirely, something that made her skin feel itchy and hot.

He waved the fry beneath her nose. It smelled heavenly.

But then again, so did Sean. “Sean, what are you doing?”

“Feeding you.”

“But—”

“Open.”

“I don’t think—”

“Open,” he said again, touching her lower lip with the fry, dabbing a drop of ketchup there, which she sucked off. The little sucking noise seemed exorbitantly loud.



SEAN FELT that noise to the depth of his toes, but mostly right between his thighs. And when Carly sunk her teeth into the French fry, he nearly moaned. “Good?” he asked in a voice gone thick with unexpected desire.

“Yes, but—”

“Eat, Carly.”

“But you don’t even like me,” she reminded him.

“I’m just feeding you.” Just looking at you. Just wanting you.

She drew the rest of the fry into her mouth. When she licked the remaining salt off her lower lip, he tore his gaze from hers and watched her mouth. It was a fascinating mouth. Wet, with a little bit of ketchup right…

She made a sound when he touched her lips. And when he dragged his finger across her lower lip, she made that sound again, an almost helplessly aroused noise that came from deep in the back of her throat.

“You have some…” His finger made the pass again, and when her tongue darted out to hit the spot, finger and tongue collided.

He let out a rough groan. “Carly—”

Her eyes closed as if the name somehow bothered her, but that was silly, it was her name, and then her tongue touched his finger again and he had to stop thinking because he lost all the blood in his head for parts south.

“You missed it,” he whispered hoarsely, and he bent forward, still holding her gaze until the last possible second, until their lips were nearly touching, until her long lashes drifted down, hiding her expression.

Until they were kissing.

Softly. Tentatively. Sweetly. And then that gentle connection wasn’t enough. Sean pulled back and reached for her glasses. He wanted them off, wanted no barriers.

“No, I want to see this,” Carly protested, her hands coming up, holding the glasses on.

He wasn’t going to argue. Cupping her face, Sean shifted closer and— Nothing.

Because there came a tug on his shirt. “Can I have ice cream now, Uncle Sean? I been good. Really, really, really good.”

Melissa stood there, her eyes big and intent on her mission.

Carly’s eyes were big, too, and they landed on him with the same question he had. How long had Melissa been standing there?

Had she seen that impromptu—and totally inappropriate—kiss? And how had it happened? One moment he was teasing her with that French fry and the next…

“Aren’t you done talking yet?” Melissa wanted to know.

“Yes.” Carly surged to her feet. Careful to avoid Sean’s gaze, she grabbed Melissa’s hand. Her breathing wasn’t quite even, the only hint of any inner turmoil. “Let’s get that ice cream, kiddo.”





7




SHE WASN’T GOING to be able to sleep, so she didn’t even try. Instead, Carlyne slipped out of her bedroom through the sliding glass door.

The back yard was silent. The pool empty.

With a little sigh, she stretched out on a lounge chair, put her hands beneath her head, tipped up her chin and studied the sky.

“Not tired?”

Sean. He was sitting in the lounge chair right next to her, in the shadows, and she’d been so intent on the fact he hadn’t been swimming, she hadn’t even noticed him right beside her. She noticed him now, noticed every inch of his long, powerful legs, his gleaming broad shoulders. And that flat, hard belly…she could never get enough of looking at it.

Then that belly tightened as he coiled, straightened and came to her side.

“I was just thinking about you,” she whispered.

“About how we kissed?”

Trust him to be so blunt. “Yes.”

“What about it?”

“Well, it was…good, for one.”

His mouth curved.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Slowly, his eyes dark and solemn, he sat again—on her lounge. Their hips bumped, and when her glasses slipped, he reached out and fixed them with a gentle finger. “What else are you thinking about? For once, Carly, tell me what’s going on inside you. It’s not all about just a kiss.”

“That was just a kiss?” She sat up, feeling exposed laying there beside him, but he leaned close with a hand on either side of her hips.

“It was more than just a kiss, I’ll give you that,” he said quietly. “But what else, Carly? What else goes on inside that head of yours? I can’t stop wondering about you. Who you are, where you came from.”

“It’s…not that important.”

“Like hell. I can’t stop thinking about you, and then there’s how you make me feel when we kiss.” To show her, he did just that, leaned forward and put his mouth to hers.