By Royal DecreeHis Majesty's MistressThe Mediterranean Prince's Captive VirginRich, Ruthless and Secretly Royal by ROBYN DONALD

Author:ROBYN DONALD
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon By Request
Published: 2017-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

LEOLA woke the next morning alone in the bed, so exhausted she could barely lift her head from the pillows to check the time. With a sigh she closed her eyes again. The sheets beside her were still warm, which meant presumably Nico had only just left.

Mouth curving in sleepy, sated pleasure, she let her mind drift back into the night.

Oh, he’d shown her, all right. He’d adored her body with subtle mastery, never taking her out of her comfort zone yet hurtling her several times into that ineffable realm where nothing mattered but her response to his love-making, her soaring, shattering release, her complete surrender to the moment. Using his mouth and his hands and the startling strength of his big body he’d coaxed from her an ecstasy that still half terrified her.

And whenever she’d caressed him, when she’d sunk her teeth into his sleek hide at one climax, and moaned in unbidden, noisy delight at another, he’d reacted with a masterful primal intensity that never overstepped the bounds into brutality.

She hadn’t known her body was capable of so much sensation. He’d made her feel both wild and cherished, bold and bemused, fierce with demand and piercingly subjugated.

In fact, Nico had shown her new facets of herself. Always she’d been passionate about her career; now, she had to face the fact that she could be equally passionate about a man.

She lay quietly, letting that knowledge seep into her brain, cooling the torrid memories of the night before.

Could she deal with this?

Yes, she thought with painfully acute insight, even though something fundamental in her had changed. Last night she’d been arrogantly certain she could cope with—even enjoy—an affair of no-holds-barred passion. Now she wasn’t so sure.

Perhaps she’d inherited something of her mother’s helpless yearning for romance, because already the thought of saying goodbye to Nico and never seeing him again had the power to hurt.

So—did she play coward and run? Or take everything she could from this headstrong, outrageous desire, sate it, and eventually bid it a graceful goodbye with courage and a mutual respect?

In other words, she thought, climbing out of the bed to walk across to the window, was she stronger than her mother, better able to deal with any disillusion that might come her way?

She pulled the silk drape back and stood staring blindly at the skyline of Paris, the most romantic of springtime cities.

Yes, she thought sombrely, she was both stronger and more pragmatic. Unlike her mother, she didn’t believe this was the love of a lifetime. Nico didn’t love her and she didn’t love him, so she wasn’t expecting the impossible happy-ever-after that had lured her mother to her early death.

Whatever happened, she would always have her career. And if she got hurt—well, she wasn’t fragile. Other people recovered from a broken heart—she could too.

But it would never come to that. She wouldn’t let it.

Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed, hair pulled back from her face in a sleek, no-nonsense bun, she applied cosmetics, then braced herself and walked out of the bedroom.

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