Crowning His Kidnapped Princess

But no fear.

His groan escaped his mouth before he could stop it and his hungry lips fused hard against hers.

Her response blew his mind, scorching him with a heat that melted the mental shackles binding him.

He couldn’t fight a hunger this strong. Not when it felt this good, this primitive, this essential.

Clara sank into the hard, possessive kiss with a moan of pleasure, her lips parting as her senses were instantly overloaded with the dark, intoxicating taste and scent of Marcelo.

The sensations their earlier almost-kiss had evoked in her were nothing on this. Nothing.

Flames erupted inside her, licking her into a furnace and liquefying her, and it was all she could do to bite her fingers into his shoulders to hold herself upright and sink even deeper into the possessive demands of his mouth. Parting her lips in movement with his, she experienced an even greater shock of pleasure when his tongue swept against hers. Oh, heavens...

If Marcelo didn’t have such a good hold of her, her knees would have given way.

‘You’re laughing?’ he accused raggedly, rubbing his nose into her cheek as he speared his hands through her hair.

‘You just made my knees go weak,’ she scolded with a laugh that sounded like no laugh she’d ever made before.

She felt dizzy. Breathless. Unable to believe what was happening inside her, the pulsing ache at the apex of her thighs, the tightening of her skin to an almost unbearable sensitivity...

The pads of Marcelo’s fingers pressed into her scalp before he gently fisted her hair to pull her head back. His eyes were as liquified as her bones, his voice a husky growl. ‘Shall we lessen the danger by moving to the bed?’

‘You’ve still got all your clothes on.’

He gave another of those laughs that sounded like it came from a place of pain. ‘It might be safer to keep it that way.’

‘But I want to see you.’ It shocked her how badly she wanted to see him naked. That tantalising glimpse of his chest her first night there had plagued her thoughts ever since.

He kissed her again but this time there was none of that delicious movement...but it didn’t matter, not when he inhaled so deeply, making her certain he was breathing in her scent.

Sliding his hands down her arms, sending the most incredible tingles racing through her, he threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the bed.

Clara was glad to lay down. It wasn’t just her knees that felt weak. Her legs felt like they’d been injected with water and, struggling to catch her breath, she watched Marcelo rip off his black bow tie and undo the top button of his shirt before stretching out on the bed beside her.

Propping himself up on an elbow, he gazed down at her for the longest time, and smoothed a lock of her hair off her forehead.

A shiver of delight danced over quivering skin.

Her heart was racing so hard she could no longer feel the individual beats.

Marcelo placed the lightest of kisses to the succulent mouth.

The urge to rip his clothes off and lose himself in Clara’s heavenliness was so strong that he was working harder than he’d ever done before at anything to keep his desire in check.

He’d never felt hunger like this before but, his promise to her lodged at the forefront of his mind, he vowed to control it. He must.

When she stroked the bristles of his beard, he closed his eyes. Her every touch sent darts of fire through him, and when she glided her hand down his throat, he clenched his jaw and breathed deeply.

How could a simple touch burn the way hers did?

One by one, she unbuttoned his shirt.

His eyes flew open when she pressed a hand flat against his naked chest.

She was still gazing at him with that same expression, the strangely touching combination of wonder and desire and curiosity.

Her lips curved. ‘Your skin is so smooth.’