Affairs of State(35)
He smiled. “I’m impressed. Of course I’d have expected no less of you. You’re disturbingly perfect.”
“I am not.” She felt her face heat. Now he was making her blush? So much for her famous cool and poised demeanor. “I have many flaws.”
“Name one. No, wait.” He walked across the room to a wooden cabinet, then pulled out a bottle of wine. “I think we’ll enjoy an excellent wine while we discuss your flaws.” He uncorked the bottle with muscular ease, and poured the rich red wine into two glasses.
Her flaws? Was this like a job interview where she was supposed to have flaws like being too much of a perfectionist, or excessively punctual? Or could she be honest?
It’s not like she was trying to get him to fall in love with her.
Their fingers touched as she took the glass from him, sending a jolt of warmth to her core. “One flaw. Hmm. I’m a terrible speller. I always have to get someone to reread important documents. I’m quite capable of spelling my own name wrong.”
“That’s nothing. I’m dyslexic.”
“Are you really? I had no idea.”
“So you’ll need a more impressive flaw than that, I’m afraid.” They settled into a wide leather sofa. He peered at her as he sipped his wine. “A fatal flaw, perhaps. Or else I’ll just keep insisting that you’re perfect.”
“I can be quite impatient.”
“Nonsense. Look at how you’ve handled the press. Most women would have had a tantrum or two by now. Next!” His eyes sparkled.
“Hmm…” What could she say to shock him out of his amused complacency? “I’m a reformed nymphomaniac.”
His eyebrows rose slightly, but the rest of his expression didn’t change. “Not too reformed, I hope.”
“You’re terrible.” She couldn’t help laughing. “The truth is I’m probably the opposite. Too uptight. Maybe that’s my flaw.”
“That can be fixed.” Heat flickered between them as their eyes met in silence. A couple of buttons were open at the neck of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing sliver of rather tanned chest. His neck was thick and muscular, like an athlete’s, and she was pretty confident that the rest of him would be, too.
He shifted closer to her on the sofa. Their thighs touched and she wondered what he’d look like naked. Then she wondered if she was going to find out tonight. Anxiety crept through her, along with the steady pulse of desire. Having sex with a prince wasn’t something you could easily forget. Yet that’s what she’d have to do, eventually, as she was hardly going to become a member of the royal family.
“Your brain is going a million miles an hour.” His face drew close to hers.
“There’s another flaw. I think too much.”
“No one’s ever accused me of that. I’m known for acting first and thinking later.” He grinned. She could smell his intoxicating musky scent. “It’s gotten me into some scrapes over the years.”
“And I have a feeling it’s about to get you into another one unless we put our wine down.” Their lips were moving inexorably closer.
“You do think of everything.” He took her glass and placed it on the floor next to his. “Now, where were we?”
She didn’t have time to think of an answer, as his mouth closed over hers and his big arms wrapped around her. A sigh escaped her as she fell into his embrace. The days apart had been torture. Trying to stop herself from thinking about him, from wanting to see him. Then behaving appropriately in front of the drivers and the butler and all those other people constantly hovering around.
Now it was just her and Simon. Their kiss deepened and his tongue flicked against hers. The throb low in her belly grew more urgent, her nipples straining against the cups of her bra. But surely there was security or someone nearby? “Should we go somewhere more private?” she whispered. At night she was haunted by visions of photographers peeking in her windows, trailing her to the most mundane places and pouncing on her.
He didn’t answer, but swept their glasses up and nodded for her to follow. They strode through the silent house. It wasn’t dark outside. It stayed light until late in England in the summer, so it felt oddly like midafternoon though it must be at least eight. Why was she thinking about the time?
Because at this very moment she was about to climb into bed with a prince. At least she assumed it would be a bed. Knowing Simon she could well be wrong.