Royal Playboy by Nana Malone

Author:Nana Malone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sankofa Girl

Chapter Twelve

Imani

Of all the ideas I’d ever had in my life, this was probably not one of my best ones. I was playing a part. I just had to remember that. None of this was real. Smoke and mirrors. Then why was I letting him touch me? Because you're pretending to be his girlfriend, idiot. Touching is part of the deal.

I really had to start thinking through my plans better. It had seemed like such a good idea to slip my hand into his before coming down for cocktails. A fantastic idea, really. It was innocuous enough but was something real couples did. Or so I remembered from my old life when I’d had relationships. But then as soon as the doors had opened, there had been people in the hallway.

Xander had probably taken his cue from me, but the kiss he'd planted on my shoulder didn't feel like an act. It felt… real. At least the shivers it gave me were real. The stubble on his cheek had tickled my skin as his lips had slowly glided over me. Xander Chase was walking sin. And he very well knew it. It was in the confidence of the way he walked. The tilt of his head as he talked to women. He was aware of how good-looking he was and used it to his full advantage.

As he introduced me around, he was mildly flirtatious but never overboard, always deferring to me like a boyfriend would. Always keeping me within two feet of touching distance. As we traversed the white marble from the foyer, he gently guided me with a hand on my lower back. But every single touch, caress, and glide brought the lick of heat with it. It was making me half mad with lust. When I slanted him a glance, he blinked at me innocently.

Damn him, he knew he was driving me crazy. And this was why I hadn't wanted to do this. Because of this feeling. Every time he touched me I was transported right back to that flat in Notting Hill where a total stranger had touched me and for once made me feel something.

It didn’t help things that he was smart. He floated easily from conversations about politics, to art, to current events. And of course he spoke flawless French, along with Italian and what sounded like some German. He was officially a Venus flytrap. Everything about him was meant to entice, to entwine, to ensnare.

After an hour or so of mingling, I started chatting with a girl who worked in the marketing department. It took Xander less than twenty seconds to come looking for me. He stalked toward me like a man who knew what he wanted. Like I was his target. His prey. “Sorry to interrupt, beautiful.” This time, he kissed me on the neck, lingering long enough to nuzzle. My head spun and I flushed.

The poor girl I’d been talking to shifted on her feet and tried to look anywhere but at us.

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