Santina's Scandalous Princess

Natalia closed her eyes, tried to fight the intense wave of pleasure that rushed through her at the feeling of Ben’s fingers pressed so intimately against her, knowing so specifically how to touch her.

‘He doesn’t know you like I do, Natalia,’ Ben said, his fingers stroking her so persuasively. ‘He never will.’

From somewhere she found words; they came out in short, staccato bursts, each one an effort. ‘Perhaps he won’t.’

‘He won’t,’ Ben said, ‘because you don’t want him to.’

Her eyes fluttered open as she stared at him, his gaze blazing into hers. Her body hovered on that dazzling precipice and it would only take one more second, one more stroke, for her to find the release she was craving. Instinctively, unable to keep herself from doing so, she writhed under his caress, her body arching and seeking more, but he wouldn’t give it to her.

‘Ben…’

‘You don’t want him to,’ Ben whispered, his fingers stilling, ‘because it’s so much easier that way, isn’t it? So much safer.’

‘I can’t—’

‘You can. You could say no to this marriage. Look at your sister Sophia. Your brother Alessandro. Haven’t they done the same? You could do it if you wanted to, Natalia. If you wanted me.’

The truth of his words hammered into her heart, striking their decisive death blows. The shell she’d tried to rebuild over that fragile organ cracked and shattered again; Ben would never let it be otherwise. She knew he was right. She knew it with every inch of her being, every corner of her wounded heart. She hadn’t fought this marriage because it was easier. It might be breaking her heart, but it was still easier. Even so, even now, she shook her head. ‘No—’

‘Yes.’

He stroked her one last time, slowly, lingeringly, and with a gasping cry her hips lifted of their own accord as she sought the fulfillment that he refused to give her. ‘You see,’ he said softly, withdrawing his hand, ‘nobody likes to be toyed with.’

And he left her there, aching inside and out, as he headed towards the gates of the stadium.

Natalia doubled over, gasping as if she’d just run a sprint, her body protesting at how it had been used. She saw Ben walk away and somehow she found the strength to call after him. ‘Kettle?’ she shouted, her voice ringing through the empty stadium. ‘Pot?’

He slowed, then stilled. After an interminable second he turned around. ‘What,’ he demanded, ‘are you saying?’

‘You’re accusing me of not being honest enough, open enough. Not being willing to commit.’ Her voice came out in ugly, raw gasps, tearing her throat. ‘What about you, Ben? You do a nice dive in the goal box but I’m not really seeing it here, with me.’

‘I told you—’

‘You told me you care. You don’t want to, you don’t like it, but you care. Am I supposed to be doing cartwheels over that, hotshot?’

His gaze narrowed; she felt his fury. ‘Later—’

‘You told me you were willing to see if this thing between us works,’ she reminded him rawly. ‘What is that supposed to mean, Ben? Am I supposed to bare my soul, tear my family apart and risk losing everything I know for that?’ He said nothing, just gave his head a little shake, although whether in denial or confusion or something else entirely Natalia didn’t know. ‘You’re still in control,’ she told him. ‘You’re still calling the shots. And until you let go as much as I have, until you reveal yourself the way I’ve been revealed, until you fight for me like no one else has, it’s not worth it. And it never will be.’ She stood, straightening her rumpled shorts, and with her head held high, her whole body trembling, she walked past him and through the stadium gates.

* * *

Ben stood by the gates, listening to them clang shut as Natalia walked through. In the distance he heard the slam of a car door, the roar of a motor. She was gone, and yet still he remained rooted here, her words—her accusations—echoing through him. Until you let go as much as I have, until you reveal yourself the way I’ve been revealed, until you fight for me like no one else has, it’s not worth it. And it never will be.

They were hard words, angry and accusing. And true. He hadn’t given everything. He’d been pushing her to give, demanding it of her, and yet he’d kept something back. The strength of his feelings, the fears in his heart. He hadn’t been completely vulnerable, totally honest. Not like Natalia had.