Modern Romance March 2021 Book 5-8 by Carol Marinelli (most romantic novels .txt) 📕

don’t you? I want to be indifferent.” The air crackled between them. “But I’m not.”

What was she supposed to do with that? She could only soften with helplessness. He had to be the strong one.

As they both fell silent, she felt the pull of an invisible force. He moved in such small increments, she thought she imagined that he was drawing closer; but he was suddenly so close that a prickle of anticipation stung her lips. She dampened them with her tongue.

“Amy.” It was a scold that rang with defeat. His hand found her hip as though to ground them both as his head dipped and he covered her mouth with his own.

Sensation burst to life in her. His lips were firm and smooth and confident. Smothering in the most delicious way as he angled and fit and claimed her. Devastated her.

How long had it been since she’d kissed a man? Really kissed one with hunger and passion and a hand that went to the back of his head, urging him to ravish her?

His arm banded across her lower back, dragging her in so her body was plastered to the hardness of his. They rocked their mouths together, pressing tighter, opening wider, exploring deeper.

A moan left her throat and she wound her arms around his neck, clinging weakly as she lost herself to the delirium. No one had ever made her feel like this. Never, ever.

Suddenly he took her by the shoulders and set her back a step. The regressive light in his eyes stopped her heart before he ruthlessly leashed whatever animal was alive inside him.

His hands dropped away as he turned to stand directly in front of her.

“Sì,” he barked and the door opened.

Oh, God. Someone had knocked and she hadn’t even heard it. She dropped her face into her hands.

She recognized Guillermo’s voice, but stayed exactly where she was, hidden by the wall of Luca’s back as she tried to gather her composure.

The men exchanged words in crisp Italian and the door closed again.

“There’s a call I must take.” Luca’s arm reached past her to snag his wine. She heard him finish it in one gulp. “I’ll be tied up for hours. Your meal will be delivered to your room.”

She nodded jerkily and made herself lift her head and turn to face him. She cringed as she saw him, saying remorsefully, “My lipstick is all over your mouth.”

He swore and swiped the back of his hand across his lips, noted the streak of red and swore again, this time with resignation.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” A muscle in his cheek ticked.

Her stomach clenched around the pang his regret caused her.

“I know better, too.” Her voice rasped and the backs of her eyes were hot. “I’ll go.”

“Amy.”

She turned back.

Compunction was still etched across his face, but he held out a handkerchief. He touched her chin, urging her to lift her mouth. In a few gentle swipes, he cleaned the edges of her lips.

He then used the same soft linen to wipe his own mouth. He dropped his hand and let her examine his work. All trace of their kiss was gone as though it had never happened.

She nodded, too empty to feel anything but despondency. She swallowed a dry lump from the back of her throat, turned and left.

CHAPTER FIVE

LUCA TOOK THE CALL regarding a handful of Vallia’s elite military serving overseas on a humanitarian mission. No one had been injured, but there’d been an incident that required he draft a statement and follow up with calls to overseas contacts.

By the time the whole thing was put to bed, it was long past time he should have been asleep himself.

“Take the morning off,” he told Guillermo as he rose from his desk.

“Signor.” Guillermo had an uncanny ability to inject a host of meaning into that single word. This one held appreciation for the sentiment, protest that the extra sleep wasn’t necessary, caution and concern and a waft of smugness that he’d been right to warn Luca against Ms. Miller.

“I’ll speak to the Privy Council in the morning,” Luca said, meeting Guillermo’s gaze with an implacable one. “You needn’t make any reports to them on this evening. At all.”

Guillermo’s mouth tightened. “As you wish. Sleep well.”

Luca didn’t. He got slightly drunk while roundly berating himself even as he stood on the terrace off his bedroom, overlooking the Roman pond surrounded by sexual gymnastics.

If Amy had been wandering around there like a lost ghost, he would have had a reason to go out to see her, but she hadn’t given him one.

Kissing her had been such a stupid thing to do. A mistake. Mistakes were something else he’d never had the appetite for. He’d been so scrutinized all his life, so quickly corrected for the tiniest errors, he had little tolerance for imperfection, especially within himself. He was the Golden Prince, after all.

And Amy was...

The image of her tattoo came into his mind, oddly pretty and feminine despite the jailbreak it depicted. He had wanted to clasp his hand around her warm arm and set his mouth against the ink. Taste her skin and kiss that small, pretty bird that he instinctively knew had been as chirpy inside that cage as she was outside it.

What kind of woman do you like, then?

Not anyone like her—with her cheeky remarks and hair that looked like it had already been mussed by raunchy sex. Not someone who didn’t so much get under his skin as draw him out of his own. One who made him want to shake off his restraints, self-imposed and otherwise.

One with whom he’d already broken a cardinal rule of keeping his hands to himself.

He managed to sleep a few hours, then got an early start on his day. He met with his Privy Council, spoke briefly with his sister who was distracted as she wrapped up a diplomacy conference in North Africa, then made his way to the meeting of the gala committee.

Amy was holding court