Scandal and the Runaway Bride (Heirs to an Empire 1)

“Exactly.”

“And it eats at me because of my father, and the company. Because that’s where my allegiance lies.”

“It’s damned inconvenient, isn’t it?”

But he wasn’t scowling this time, not like he’d been in France.

“I really am sorry about that photo on the bench.”

“I wasn’t really angry at you, Gabi. I was angry at myself.”

“I know.”

The soft admission swirled around them. It had been barely over a week and already she felt she knew him better than she’d ever known his brother. She looked up into his eyes and melted a little. “This is going to sound awful and complicated and a million other things, but I really wish I could kiss you again, Will.”

He drifted closer, his head blocking the sun from blazing onto her face. Instead it created a halo around his hair. She wanted to run her fingers into it, pull his face down to hers. But she wouldn’t. She’d issued the invitation. She’d let him decide if he wanted to take her up on it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“It’s very inadvisable. And I just finished telling myself I was done with wrong decisions.” Her voice was barely a whisper. Somewhere in the olive groves birds sang, and she faintly registered their lilting song, but her sense of touch was overriding everything, making her attuned to his every move and breath.

“And I’d be a wrong decision.”

“After what you just told me? Don’t you think so?”

“A kiss,” he said, his voice uncertain. “That’s all we’re talking about here.”

“There are no photographers,” she whispered. “No one will know.”

“I’ll know,” he answered, even closer now, so close she was dying to close the gap and press herself against his strong chest.

“Then it’ll be our little secret.”

“Damn you.”

His hand curled around her neck, but not in anger and frustration as it had the last time. This time it was a caress, a strong, yet tender touch as his fingers slid beneath her hair to press against the muscles of her neck. Before she could think, she tilted her head into his touch, her eyes drifting closed as the sun washed over her

face. The light was gone again as he followed her movements, touching his lips to hers.

At the moment of contact, her mouth followed his lead, like a sunflower arching to the morning sun. Girasole, she thought, opening her mouth wider beneath his, letting the kiss blossom and grow. She was the flower, he was the sun, and she couldn’t get enough of his light and warmth.

“Gabi,” he whispered, then trailed his lips from her mouth to her jaw, and then back to the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. “You taste so good, Gabi.”

Every single nerve ending in her body was alive. “Mmm,” she answered, stretching into the contact. “You feel good. You’re warm and hard and...” She couldn’t finish the thought. His mouth skittered over the tender skin of her neck and she gasped. “Will,” she murmured, turning fully into his arms, and they kissed again, a little wilder now.

He walked her backward until she stumbled a little, and then he did the most amazing and surprising thing. He lifted her against him so that her feet dangled inches off the ground, and carried her to the shade of an olive tree. The bark was warm and hard beneath her back, providing a bolster as Will pressed close again. Not close enough. Never enough. But enough for now. It had to be.

He kissed her for long minutes, until it seemed their control hung by a mere thread. He’d unbuttoned the top of her dress and kissed his way to her cleavage, though he’d stopped at her lace bra, much to her relief and disappointment. Her hair was a mess from rubbing against the tree trunk, and she was sure she had whisker burn down her jaw and neck. The simple cotton skirt she wore had stayed in place, but the thin material had done little to hide his desire.

And Gabi had explored, too. Her fingers had skimmed up his ribs and then pulled his shirt out of his jeans so she could explore the warm, hard body beneath. She’d splayed her hands over his back and shoulder blades, pulling him close, wanting things she had no right to want. She was on fire and didn’t care. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Everything was different from anything she’d ever known. Chemistry, sure. But more than that. There was a connection between them that went deeper than attraction.

“We need to stop,” he murmured, stilling his hands on her arms. “Gabi, we need to stop now.”

“I know.” Her breath caught as she tried to slow it. “Will, this is so complicated...what I said back in Provence...”

His golden gaze clung to hers. “You needed to come home. I understand. And you played your cards to get here. I respect that, too, even though it meant I didn’t get my own way.”

“It’s going to be okay, though, right?”