Santina's Scandalous Princess

‘Oh, don’t worry, Princess. They know who I am here.’ And he strolled past her with a smile, clearly relishing her surprise and discomfort at hearing her own words laughingly parroted back to her.

Snatching her coat from the waiter, silently fuming at the way he always seemed to best her, Natalia followed Ben out to the street. Her heel caught on a tile in the doorway of the restaurant, and as she pitched forward Ben’s arm came around her instinctively, supporting her and drawing her to him so her breasts collided with his hard chest, her own arm coming up around his shoulders in an attempt to steady herself. And yet even as she regained her balance her heart tumbled inside her as if she’d just fallen down a whole flight of stairs.

She breathed in the scent of him, woodsy and clean, and felt the lean strength of his body pressed against her own. Her senses exploded to life with longing, and her breath hitched revealingly as she remained half wrapped around him and stars exploded around her.

No, not stars, just the relentless flash of the paparazzi’s cameras. A half-dozen of them had been camped outside of the restaurant, waiting for her exit.

Natalia felt Ben’s calm, capable hands steady her and then he stepped away, his face expressionless, yet underneath that purposeful blandness she sensed he was now seething with anger. She felt it like the pulse of her own blood, hot and demanding. She’d just given him some major, and undoubtedly unwanted, publicity.

He strode down the street, away from the flashing cameras, and she followed as best she could, hobbling a little bit. The paparazzi hurried after them, shouting questions in both Italian and English.

‘Who is your boy toy now, Princess?’

‘Give us a kiss!’

Ben strode faster, suddenly turning a corner onto a dark and narrow side street, and breathless Natalia tried to keep up. ‘Wait—’

‘You want to stay for that?’ he asked in a sneer. ‘Of course you do. That kind of publicity stunt is right up your alley, Princess.’

So he thought she’d tripped on purpose, for the cameras. It didn’t really surprise her, yet it still hurt. ‘I just,’ she panted, ‘want to keep from breaking my ankle. My heel broke when I tripped.’

Ben glanced back at her, then ducked into an alley between two tall and crumbling buildings. Natalia could barely see, and she tripped over some old terracotta pots piled against the wall. They clattered onto the cobbles, the sound echoing off the high walls. She blinked, the darkness pressing close all around her, making her palms damp and her heart thud. She hated the dark, especially unlit, enclosed spaces like this wretched alley. ‘Where…where are we going?’

‘I don’t want any more pictures,’ Ben growled. ‘So if you think this next month is your chance to drag me through the gutter press, think again, Princess.’

She heard the sound of motorcycles speeding off into the distance. ‘I think we lost them.’ Her voice sounded high and frightened to her own ears, and the thought that Ben might guess how scared she was made her furious. Another thing for him to mock her about. ‘Anyway, didn’t you say any publicity is good publicity?’ she reminded him defiantly.

Ben turned so quickly she nearly lost her balance. He prowled closer, the strength and breadth of him both intimidating and overwhelming in this dark, narrow alley. She’d been scared of the dark; now she was frightened of something else. Or not frightened exactly, but aware. Definitely aware.

The stone wall of the building came up hard against her back, and Ben was so close she had to tilt her head up to look at him. She could barely see his face in the darkness and gloom, but she still felt his anger.

And something else—for whatever was pulsing between them was powerful, dangerous and impossible to resist. He stepped closer, so she could feel the length of his body against her own, heard the thunder of her heart in her ears and the ragged tear of both of their breathing, unnaturally loud in the enclosed space. He dipped his head so his lips hovered above her own. Desire spiralled inside her, crazy and out of control even though he hadn’t even kissed her.

But he would…wouldn’t he? Her mind was dizzy, overcome by his closeness. All she could think about was the feel of his lips on hers, the need of it. Her head fell back, her lips parted in silent, open invitation.

‘Don’t play games with me, Princess,’ Ben breathed, and his lips were so close if she moved at all she would be touching him. Kissing him. Yet she didn’t move, couldn’t, because her body was frozen, paralysed with this helpless yearning. She remained pinned against the wall, her head tilted back, her lips open, her body pulsing with need. She wanted him to move. She wanted him to kiss her.