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

to be ironic, but his voice was lodged in his chest where thick walls were fracturing and tumbling apart.

He gave in to the compulsion to draw her into his arms. His hand found the curve of her bare backside beneath the fall of his shirt, and he reveled in the way his caress fractured her breath.

Let her go, the infernal voice inside him whispered. It was more of a distant howl, like wolves warning of the perils that stalked him if he continued to linger with her.

But she was fragrant and soft and shorter without her heels. She sent him a smoky, womanly smile as she realized he was naked and traced patterns at the base of his spine that tightened his buttocks with pleasure.

Her expression grew somber. Vulnerable. “Thank you for this. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. I needed to know I could be intimate with a man and not lose everything.”

Tension invaded his limbs. Not jealousy or possessiveness, but a primitive protectiveness that tasted similar. His arms unconsciously tightened, wanting to hold on to her because he understood from her remark that she was afraid of being caged again.

She was reminding him this couldn’t be anything more than this one day.

He knew it as well as she did, but he moved his hand into her hair and gently dragged her head back, mostly to see if she’d allow it. They’d grown damned familiar in the last couple of hours, and he wanted that small show of trust from her.

Her lips parted in shock while lust hazed her gaze.

A self-deprecating smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I should hate myself for enjoying this as much as I do.” Her capitulation. The surge of virility it gave him that she allowed him to dominate her this way. He was an animal, just the same as everyone else. He had never wanted to admit that. “Sex was his thing. It’s hard for me to give in to desire without thinking there’s something wrong with me when I do.” He had never told that to anyone. He’d barely articulated it to himself. “It’s probably best that today is all we have.” Otherwise, they might destroy one another.

With absolute gravity, she said, “There is nothing wrong with the way you make love.”

They should be exchanging playful banter, preparing for a lighthearted parting. Instead, he kissed her, hard. He wanted to imprint himself on her.

The wolves were continuing to howl, but he let himself absorb the fullness of the moment. The way her nails dug into his scalp as she pressed him to kiss her more deeply, the way her tongue greeted his own... This was all they had. This moment. This kiss.

That’s all it should have been. But as the fine hair on her mound tantalized his erection and her toes caressed the top of his foot, his heart pounded hard enough to crack his sternum. “Once more?” he asked through his teeth.

She was as powerless to this force as he was and didn’t bother trying to hide it. “Once more,” she breathed.

With a savage smile, he pressed her toward the doors. “Get back in my bed then.”

Amy woke in the early morning, naked and alone in her bed in the guest suite. She stretched and let out a sigh that was both enjoyment of the luxurious thread count and a half moan as her sore muscles twinged. She was glowing with the lingering sensuality of their lovemaking, but beneath it was despondency.

Once had not been enough, even when it turned into an afternoon and evening.

Yesterday was all they would have, though. One golden memory. She worked for Luca. She had an assignment to complete, one she had neglected because they’d been so wrapped up in each other. She’d stolen from his room near midnight like Cinderella, shoes in hand, jacket held in front of her to hide her broken fly. A footman had escorted her, but she trusted he wouldn’t say a word.

She was starving and desperate for coffee, so she rose to find the French press in the kitchen. There was cheese, fresh berries and yogurt in the refrigerator, too. Perfect.

She set them out and started the kettle, then went in search of her phone. It was still in her jacket pocket from last night, still set on Do Not Disturb from when she’d joined Luca for lunch. They’d skipped dinner, which was why she was ready to gnaw her own arm.

Still yawning, she touched her thumb to unlock her phone and it flashed to life with notifications. She had several alerts set for her own name since she was often attached to press releases for clients, but this wasn’t a press release.

It was about her client. And her.

The photos showed her and Luca with the sunset behind them, and each headline slanted them into a different, damning light.

Like Father, Like Son! one headline blared.

The king of Vallia continues a tradition of depravity by seducing his new hire, socialite Amy Miller of London Connection, who caused a stir in the late queen’s foundation with her publicity campaign for an upcoming gala...

Victim or Villain? the next asked while the photo’s angle revealed her seductive profile and Luca’s riveted expression.

The Golden Prince is dragged into the gutter by a gold digger...

Crown Jewels on Display! screamed the most tawdry headline.

They’d blurred the photo, but she knew he’d been naked and fully aroused.

“Oh, Luca,” she whispered.

How had something so perfect and unsullied become...this?

As her unblinking eyes grew hot, Amy sank onto the sofa, crushed by the magnitude of this development. Her stomach churned while her brain exploded with the infinite agonies that were about to befall her—the sticks and stones and betrayals and blame.

Her life would disintegrate. Again.

And, just like last time, she had no one to blame but herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“PHOTOS WERE PUBLISHED overnight, signor. They are...unfortunate.”

“Of who?” It was a testament to how thoroughly Amy had numbed his brain that he didn’t compute immediately that