Challenging Dante (A Bride for a Billionaire 4)

He took her hand and led her towards the dance floor and Rosa was aware of a sudden and heady sense of danger as he took her into his arms and the music began to throb out a sultry beat. He was so tall, she thought—taller than any other man she’d ever seen. And his body felt so strong. She licked her dry lips. A woman wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like this. The thought thrilled her, rather than scared her as she knew it should have done. ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she shouted.

‘That’s because I haven’t told you.’

‘And are you going to tell me?’

‘I might—if you’re very good.’

Recklessly, she said, ‘And if I’m not?’

He didn’t miss a beat. ‘In that case, I will definitely tell you—because there is nothing I like better than a woman who isn’t good. My name is Kulal.’

She tried saying it. Rounding her lips she sounded out the first syllable and then, letting her tongue touch the upper palate, she murmured the second. ‘Ku-lal.’

‘Mmm. I like the way you say it. It sounds very sexy on your lips.’

Rosa giggled. ‘Stop it!’

With a sudden hard beat of lust, Kulal pulled her closer and felt her melt against him, as if she’d been waiting all night to have him do that. And wasn’t it like that for him? Hadn’t his senses been ignited from the moment he’d set eyes on her and seen those soft lips parting with a look of innocent wonder, which certainly didn’t match the sinful splendour of her voluptuous body? He could feel the way her breasts were pushing against his chest and he sucked in a breath of longing as he dipped his mouth to her ear. ‘Now let’s see if you can dance as well on the floor as you did on the podium, shall we, my beauty?’

The slick words which flowed from his lips were warning Rosa to be careful. Because there was a reason for the expression ‘paying’ someone a compliment—her ruthless family had taught her that. You told a woman she was pretty and she would put out for you—wasn’t that how it worked? Hadn’t she grown up watching the male members of her family as they’d put their own heartless seduction campaigns into action? Men like this wanted only one thing from a woman like her and she’d been brought up to guard her honour and integrity. But that was before the world had changed. Before the values she’d held so dear had been held up as shallow and worthless.

So she pushed away her doubts and instead glanced up at him, batting him a coquettish look she hadn’t even realised had been in her repertoire until now. ‘You’re going to mark me out of ten, are you?’

‘If you want.’ His hands tightened around her waist. ‘But I warn you in advance that I can be a very harsh judge.’

The words came out almost before she realised she’d said them. ‘I’ll take the risk,’ she said.

‘Good.’ His lips nuzzled against her neck. ‘I like a woman who takes risks.’

Rosa could feel the whisper of his mouth on her bare neck and she closed her eyes with pleasure. This was...bliss. His arms had tightened around her and she realised that dancing with him was different to dancing with anyone else. He seemed to be making up the rules as he went along, completely ignoring the rhythm of the music and moving them around as if this was a slow waltz instead of a vaguely jumpy beat. And she was letting him. Why wouldn’t she let him? Why, he could carry on doing that all night, he was so good at it.

‘Do you like that?’ he queried softly as the palms of his hands skated possessively over the curve of her bottom.

Her sudden, heady sense of freedom and the sensation of listening to her body’s desires made Rosa bold and she didn’t shrink away from the way he was pulling her even closer. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought so. I like it too. I like it very much.’

Kulal closed his eyes as he felt her fingertips move to his shoulders. He could feel the brush of her silken hair against his cheek and the wave of desire which swept over him was so strong that he was filled with an unbearable need to touch her more intimately.

But even though he’d always been known as a mould-breaking prince, Kulal respected his position enough not to throw his royal role into jeopardy. Dancing with a woman who was clearly an exhibitionist was one thing, but making love to her in a public place was quite another. So that even though they were shielded by the bobbing crowds around them and even though the flashing lights obscured most of their movements, he did not do what he wanted to do. Which was to play with the tips of her breasts through the thin satin of her minidress. Or to slide his hand up her thigh and touch the undoubtedly moist heat which would be searing its way through her panties.

That’s if she was wearing any.

He swallowed, wondering if she could feel the sudden jerk of his erection.

He’d noticed her the moment she’d walked into the nightclub—but then, her shiny red dress had left little to the imagination. She had the type of body which was deeply unfashionable—especially here, in the South of France. She didn’t look as if she spent hours at the gym and she didn’t look as if she existed on a punishing diet either. The kind of diet which always left women with that furrowed and slightly anxious look—as if they were worried they might pass out from hunger. Instead she was ripe and luscious—like a juicy mulberry just before it fell from the tree.

He’d noticed the way her hair had tumbled like dark satin all the way down to her waist and her dress had skimmed the smooth expanse of her bare thighs. Their eyes had met across the dance floor—he had seen her eyes widen as if she had been surprised—and in that moment he had known. Just as he always knew when a woman wanted him. She was his for the taking and he wanted to take her as soon as possible—because one day very soon, this kind of sexual dalliance would be a thing of the past.

Kulal felt his mouth flatten in resignation, for the duty and the protocol of an arranged marriage loomed close on his horizon and his carefree playboy days were numbered. Even if he and his new bride were to agree to an ‘open’ marriage—or at least ‘open’ for him—he knew that in future he would have to conduct his affairs discreetly. He came from the kind of culture wh

ere wives turned a blind eye to their husbands’ indiscretions, but marriage brought with it certain responsibilities. Gone would be the days of walking into a nightclub alone, and walking out with a beautiful woman on his arm.

He pressed his lips against the warm, fleshy shell of her ear as they moved in time to the music. ‘What’s your name?’ he questioned.

‘Rosa,’ she replied, instinctively leaving off the ‘Corretti’ bit. He might have heard of her notorious family or he might not, but she wasn’t going to take that risk. Tonight might be her night for behaving recklessly, but not stupidly.

‘Rosa,’ he repeated, running his palm down over the thick spill of her dark hair as if he was stroking the flank of his favourite mount. He smiled as he felt her wriggle in response. ‘I like that too. Are you Italian?’

‘Yes,’ Rosa managed, even though it was difficult to speak when his earthy scent was overpowering her. Who cared that she was being a little economical with the truth? She was Sicilian through and through, and her family would have erupted with rage if they’d heard her claiming to being Italian! But it was easier this way. And she no longer owed her family anything, she reminded herself fiercely. Not a single thing. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘And do you make a habit of pole dancing in nightclubs, Rosa?’

She shook her head. ‘Never done it before in my life.’

‘Interesting. Why not?’

Rosa screwed up her face because this was a path she didn’t want to venture down. She shook her head. ‘Tell me about you instead!’

But Kulal was coming to realise that he didn’t want to have to shout to make himself heard, and he didn’t dare stay on the dance floor with her much longer. Much more of her rubbing her voluptuous body against him and he would be unable to move. So why not cut to the chase and continue this conversation somewhere more private—like the seclusion of his villa complex, with the convenience of a nearby bed?