The Princess Finds Her Match
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There was one thing a self-proclaimed modern princess like Her Royal Highness Alexandria Maria Gallagher Ligueria from the principality of Seirenada could do very well, amongst other princess approved pursuits – curse in four languages. As this was an ability that she could not ask the Royal Secretary to include in her press kit, she deemed it useless but secretly satisfying nonetheless.
As per this instance.
“Mecachis!”Lexie cried out in Spanish as she was jarred from sleep, having landed on something sharp on the floor. It was the heel of her evening shoe. “Maledizione!” she uttered in Italian. Her limbs were tangled in the linen, and it was a good thirty seconds before she emerged victorious from battling the rumpled covers. Pushing her curly locks out of her forehead and feeling the room swimming around her, she grabbed the edge of the bed to steady herself and encountered a familiar and most gorgeous set of electric blue eyes regarding her sleepily.
“Merde!” Lexie felt sucker punched by those sexy eyes and dropped on her haunches. “Shit!” She felt weakness invading her limbs. Outtakes of last night’s memory came rushing back, and with it came a dawning sense of horror. “Merparoata!”
A deep, raspy chuckle came from the bed. “You lied to me, sweetheart.”
Lexie’s eyes panned the room in mounting panic, skittering to a stop when she spotted her discarded wig lying on top of the velvet couch.
“I did?’ she croaked, her mouth dry, trying vainly to recall if she had revealed her identity to him last night and at the same time wondering if she should make a dive for the wig.
“You told me you only knew four languages, including English, that was. You just swore in five.” He sounded delighted and Lexie stole a quick look at him, just to confirm it wasn’t the remaining alcohol level in her bloodstream that was making her hallucinate. Nope. He was still there. Draped on the bed, a hand cupping his chin, his elbow supporting that gorgeous head with wavy, grown out locks. His eyes were positively wicked.
“Oh.” Lexie’s breath hitched before she said in a rush of relief, “The last one was Liguerian. It’s a dialect, so it doesn’t count.” Hazy images of her standing on a stage, holding a microphone and belting a Britney Spears song in out-of-tune splendor came back to torture her. The crowd was cheering, egging her on, and he was watching her with a grin etched on those sexy, firm cut lips.
“Liguerian?” he asked in a raspy rumble.
Something twitched down there. Was it her uterus reacting to the ridiculously sexy male sprawled a few feet from her? Nope, just her full bladder choosing to make its presence known at that instant. She needed to pee. And where was her phone?
She stood, dragging the blanket she had draped around her with as much dignity as she could. Her bustier dress was around her hips, and Lexie didn’t want Nic watching her trying to wiggle it back up to her chest She walked slowly to the bathroom then slammed the door shut, but not before seeing Nic’s amused expression. Oh God, where was her underwear? she thought as she relieved herself. Flushing the toilet, she grabbed the handlebar and hoisted herself on unsteady legs. Her reflection in the mirror horrified her. Her mascara had dried in sticky flakes and her eyeliner had smudged, making her look like a raccoon. Her hair looked like several kittens had a field day playing in it. She washed her face, trying to remove as much make−up as she could, then spotting a band provided by the hotel, gathered her hair in a ponytail. She zipped herself into Blair’s rumpled dress and with a deep breath, walked out of the bathroom and completely forgot what she had been about to say.
She saw him in the process of pulling on his jeans. Lexie stopped dead cold, his naked, ripped torso rendering her speechless.
“Good morning, rojita,” he greeted huskily, his eyes running over her with some heat as he took in her cleanly scrubbed face and hairdo. “You are impossibly more beautiful this morning than last night.”
Goodness! She could feel the gears in her brain chugging to a slow, clanking motion at his presence. “Um, a−about last night,” Lexie began and then cringed at how original sounding she was. He started sauntering to where she was rooted stupidly in the middle of the bedroom. She started backing away, unnerved by the intensity of the expression in his eyes. He followed suit, stalking her until she bumped against the door.