A Prince of a Guy (Red Hot Royals #1)(27)

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m going to be out and didn’t want to miss your call. How’s your hunky boss?”

Carlyne pressed the phone closer to her ear and glared at Sean. “I never said he was a hunk.”

He lifted a brow.

Francesca laughed. “You never had to. You extended your stay. You wouldn’t have done that for just anyone.”

Was she so shallow that she wouldn’t have helped a friend in need unless he fit a certain physical criteria? God, she hated facing that. “Well, I’m doing it now,” she said stiffly. “And that’s what counts.”

“Yes,” Francesca agreed sweetly. “And of course, with all this newfound righteousness, you’ve told him the truth.”

“Um…” Carlyne looked at Sean.

He smiled.

Her heart went pitter-patter. She wanted him, no doubt. But she couldn’t let herself have him under this pretense. It was wrong. “Tonight,” she promised.

Francesca sighed with relief. “Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

“Who was that?” Sean asked as she slipped the phone into her pocket.

It was time, past time, to come clean with the man she’d more than half fallen for. But in doing so, she very well might lose the best thing that had ever happened to her. “It was a friend of mine.”

“Ah, you admit to having a life.”

She had to smile. “Yes.”

His eyes softened, and he cupped her face. “That’s a start.”

Because she had to, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him softly.

His thumbs stroked her jaw. “You keep doing that and we’ll miss the party.”

“That would be…lovely.”

His eyes heated. “Say the word.”

“Sean.”

He slid his cheek to hers, nibbled at her ear. “You know where to find me when you’re ready.” He opened his mouth on her throat, and her eyes crossed with lust. “Are you?” He dragged that hot, wet mouth down her neck. “Ready?”

Judging by the weakness in every bone, yes. Judging by the throbbing between her thighs, double resounding yes.

“Your party,” she mumbled. “You said it was required.”

He lifted his head, looking frustrated and hot. Very hot. “After the party, then.”

At the thought, the throbbing intensified. After the party they would do it all. Talk. Make love. Talk some more.

Or so she hoped, with all her heart.



THERE WAS MUSIC and laughter. Elegant, sophisticated people milling around, talking about themselves. It should have been second nature to Carlyne, but it wasn’t to Carly.

All she could think about was Sean. About tonight. Tense and edgy, she did her best to circulate when what she really wanted was some release to all this tension inside her. The music was classical, the food expensive and tasteful. The people were interesting.

And she couldn’t breathe.

She escaped into the bathroom, turned on the light and stared at her reflection. What was the matter with her? She should have fit right in out there.

She’d been bred for such parties. Small talk, a distant smile…she had a talent.

But tonight she wasn’t Princess Carlyne.

Tonight she was Carly, a woman who took care of a child for a living. A woman beginning to wish with all her might that this was really her life.

“Carly?”

At the light knock on the bathroom door and the unbearably familiar masculine voice, everything within her tightened in anticipation. Debating between what her brain knew to be best and what her body wanted, she opened the door a crack. Sean pushed in.

“Sean. What are you doing?”

He shut the door, then sent her a long, scorching look that told her exactly what he wanted to be doing. He was so big, so leanly muscled, so masculine. So gorgeous. And so utterly out of place in this ridiculously feminine bathroom.

Still holding her gaze, he engaged the lock.

“Um, Sean?”

“I can’t breathe out there.” He unbuttoned his jacket, slipped it off his shoulders and hung it on the hook on the back of the door. “You’re supposed to be helping me, Carly.”

“Yes. Well…” In his white dress shirt, he looked every bit as sophisticated and elegant as any aristocrat she’d ever seen. Then he smiled and took a step toward her. “I can breathe when I’m looking at you, Carly.”

“Oh.” It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her. He pressed her against the counter, buried his face in her neck and rocked his body to hers. “Oh, my,” she whispered.

She felt him smile against her neck as he slid his arms around her. “I’ve been wanting to do this all evening.”

“We’ve only been here twenty minutes.” She gripped the counter behind her, which did two things. One, it gave her some desperately needed support, since her knees had refused to support her.

And two, it pressed her entire body against the length of his.

“I told you I hate these silly parties.” His mouth found her ear. “You taste good.”

“Sean—” She planted a hand on his chest and pushed, because she couldn’t think with his mouth on her. “You’re supposed to be out there socializing.”