Seduced by the Spare Heir Page 8

  Gabriel gripped her hand in his, letting his thumb brush across her skin. It sent a shiver of awareness down her spine, urging her to lean in closer to him.

  “I know that’s a lot of information to process,” he said. “I didn’t tell it to you so you’d feel bad for me. I told you because I wanted you to understand that we’re coming from a similar place. No one is perfect. We’re all messed up somehow. But it’s how we deal with it that matters. I’m an expert at pushing people away. You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who had made me want to try to trust someone again. Stop thinking that you don’t measure up somehow, because you’re wrong.”

  Serafia gasped at his bold words. She couldn’t hold back any longer. She lunged forward, pressing her lips against his own before she lost her nerve. It had been a long time since she had trusted herself in all the various areas of her life, and romance had fallen to the bottom of the stack. What good was she to a man in the state she was in? Especially a prince? Still, she couldn’t help herself. And neither could Gabriel.

  He met her kiss with equal enthusiasm. He held her face in his hands, drawing her closer and drinking her in. He groaned against her lips and then let his tongue slip along hers. His touch made her insides turn molten with need and wore away the last of her self-control.

  At last, Gabriel pulled away, their rapid breaths hovering between them in the night air. “Is it too early to make our exit?” he asked.

  Serafia shook her head and looked into his eyes. “I think the prince can leave whenever he wants to.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t as simple to leave as Gabriel had hoped. He’d had to make the rounds, thank Patrick for his hospitality and avoid the cutting glares of his father, but within half an hour, he and Serafia were in the back of the royal limousine on their way home to Playa del Onda.

  When they climbed inside, Gabriel couldn’t look away from the high slit in her pink gown and how it climbed nearly to her hip as she sat. He wanted to run his hands over that bare skin. His palms tingled with the need to reach for her, but there was a forty-five-minute drive home from the Rowling Estate.

  Eyeballing the limousine’s tinted partition, Gabriel called out to his driver, “We’re going to need a little privacy back here, please.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” In an instant, the heavily tinted glass slid up, blocking them from their driver’s view and making for a more private drive home.

  “What are you doing?” Serafia asked.

  Gabriel turned to her, placing his hand on her knee. “I want you. Right now. I can’t wait until we get back.”

  “We’re in a car, Gabriel. The driver is right there. The royal guard are in the SUV right behind us.”

  “They can’t see us.” His hand glided higher up her leg, brushing at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. “Whether or not the driver hears us is up to you.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Serafia said, biting her full bottom lip.

  Gabriel brushed his fingertips along the lacy barrier of her panties, making her gasp. “You may have reformed me, but there’s still a little bad boy inside me.” He stroked harder, making her stiffen and close her eyes. He leaned into her, placing a searing kiss against her neck before he whispered, “Let’s both be bad tonight.”

  He gripped one strap of her gown, easing it down her shoulder, and then dipped his head to taste her flesh, nibbling on the column of her throat, the hollow behind her ear and the round of her shoulder. He slipped one hand behind her, finding the zipper of her gown and tugging it down enough to allow her gown to slip farther and expose the round globes of her large breasts.

  They were more glorious than he’d ever imagined after seeing her in bikinis and skimpy gowns on magazine covers. “So beautiful,” he murmured as his gaze devoured her. They were full and heavy, tipped with tight mocha nipples that he immediately covered with his hands and then his mouth.

  Serafia bit her lip hard to keep from crying out as his tongue flicked across her skin. He teased her flesh, and then sucked hard at her breast. The hand he’d kept beneath her gown continued to stroke her, finally slipping under the lacy edge of her panties to feel the moist heat of her desire hiding beneath it.

  “Gabriel!” she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper.

  “Just lie back and enjoy it,” he replied, turning with her as she leaned back across the seat to rest on her elbows. When she shifted her hips, he was better able to slide her gown out of the way and part her thighs. He stopped touching her only long enough to slip off her panties.

  When he returned, he leaned down, parted her flesh and stroked her with his tongue. Serafia squirmed and writhed against him, but he didn’t let up. He wrapped his arms around her thighs to hold her steady as he teased at her sensitive flesh again and again. Gabriel waited until he had her hovering on the edge; then he slipped one finger inside her. It sent her tumbling over, gasping and whimpering as quietly as she could manage while her release rocked through her.

  When at last her body stilled except for her rapid breaths, Gabriel pulled away. While she recovered, he unbuttoned his suit pants and tugged them down. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled a condom from his wallet and slipped it over the length of him. When he turned back to Serafia, she was watching him with a twinkle of deviousness in her dark eyes.

  He reached for her and tugged her into his lap, her thighs straddling him as the limousine raced down the highway. Gabriel gripped her waist as she eased down and pushed him inside her. He gritted his teeth and pressed desperate fingertips into her flesh as he fought for control. She felt amazing. When he was buried fully inside her, he held her still for a moment, then reached for her face. He pulled her forward and captured her lips with his own.

  As his tongue slipped inside her mouth and stroked her, he started moving slowly beneath her. Pushing the pink organza of her gown out of the way, he gripped the curve of her rear to guide her hips. At first, their movements were deliciously slow, and he savored every pang of pleasure. As the intensity built, they moved more frantically. Serafia grasped his shoulders and threw her head back, a silent cry in her throat.

  “Let go for me,” Gabriel pressed. “I want to watch it happen. You’re so beautiful when you come undone.”

  She found her release again. This time, he held her close, not just watching, but feeling the pleasurable tremors running through her body and experiencing them with her. Her inner muscles tightened around him, coaxing his own release. As she collapsed against him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and thrust into her one last time. He buried his face in her neck, growling his climax against her flushed skin.

  They sat together, not moving for several minutes. In the stillness, Gabriel was finally able to mentally catch up with everything that had happened in the last few hours.

  The moment he had stepped out into the garden after her, he knew things would be different. He wasn’t going to let her keep pulling away from him, and if opening up to her about his own past was what it took, he was willing to do it. She...inspired him in a way no other woman had. It wasn’t just an attraction; it was more. She didn’t want anything from him. Unlike the sharks circling around the Rowling ballroom, Serafia didn’t need his money and she certainly didn’t want to share his spotlight. He felt that she was someone he could trust, especially after she shared her own story with him. Her past was different from his but he could tell that it had scarred her in a similar way. The difference was that he didn’t trust others and she didn’t trust herself. But she should. And he wanted to help her with that.

  It made her ever more attractive to him, if that was possible. She wasn’t just the supermodel from his teenage fantasies. She was so much more. He just had to convince her of that.

  “The car is slowing down,” Serafia noted. She climbed from his lap and quickly started pulling herself back together.

  Gabriel turned and looked out the window. They were approaching the gate to the compound. “We’re home. Time to get dressed so
we can go inside and I can take it all off you again.”

  Serafia tugged the top of her dress back up over her shoulders and looked at him. “Really?”

  How silly she was to doubt him on that point. “Oh yes,” Gabriel said in a tone as serious as he was capable of. “That was just to hold me over until we got home.”

  Seven

  Serafia woke up the next morning with a small smile on her lips. Opening her eyes, she spied Gabriel’s broad shoulders as he slept beside her. She rolled onto her back with a yawn and reached for her phone to check the time. It was eight-thirty, practically midday for her. She wasn’t surprised, considering that Gabriel hadn’t let her sleep until after three.

  Flinging back the sheets, she gently slipped out of the bed so she wouldn’t wake Gabriel. She snatched up a blanket off the foot of the bed, wrapped it around her naked body and walked toward the wall of French doors that led from the master bedroom onto a secluded patio that overlooked the sea.

  She stepped out onto the balcony, pulling the door shut behind her. The sun was bright, warming her skin as she took in the remarkable view.

  Playa del Onda was built on a sheer cliff overlooking the sea. It was perched at the apex of a crescent-shaped bay lined with sailboats and beaches that would hopefully draw tourists now that the Tantaberras had fallen. The water was an enchanting mix of blues and greens that begged you to dip a toe into it. It reminded her of her hacienda in Barcelona. Her view overlooked the Mediterranean, but the feelings it inspired in her were the same. Peacefulness. The ability to breathe. Relaxation.

  She wanted to take a mug of coffee and sit out here the rest of the morning, but that just wasn’t possible. The house was crawling with guards and servants. She couldn’t stroll into the kitchen wearing a blanket and slip back into the prince’s suite without someone noticing. Not that it was necessarily a secret to those who’d traveled back to the beach house with them last night, but she thought it was inappropriate to flaunt it.

  As it was, she needed to get down the hall to her own room. Going back inside, she checked to see that Gabriel was still asleep. She had worked wonders with his transformation, but bless him, he was still a night owl.

  She retrieved her gown from the floor and slipped it back on, and then slowly opened the door of his bedroom, glancing both ways down the hall to see if anyone was there. The coast was clear. She slipped out, pulling the door closed. She had taken about three steps toward her room when she heard something behind her.

  “Good morning, Señorita Espina.”

  She turned to find the houseman, Luca, standing behind her. “Good morning, Luca,” she said, self-consciously smoothing her hand over her tousled hair and trying to downplay how overdressed she was for the early morning hours.

  His dark gaze traveled over her quickly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, but he didn’t mention her appearance. “Is His Majesty still sleeping?” he asked.

  “Yes, he is. But he should be getting up soon. Please wake him by ten if he hasn’t roused by then.”

  “As you wish.”

  Serafia started to turn back toward her room, and then she stopped. “Please don’t mention this to anyone,” she said.

  Luca shook his head. “Of course not, señorita. The affairs of the prince are no one’s concern but the prince’s. But...” He hesitated. “You should know your involvement with the prince is no secret.”

  Serafia looked up at him with eyes wide with panic. “What does that mean?”

  He unfolded the Alma newspaper he’d been clutching in his hand and held it up for her to read. On the front page, just below the article about Gabriel’s big introduction at the Rowling party, was a headline that read “The Future Queen?” Another article followed, speculating about a romance brewing between her and Gabriel. A grainy black-and-white photo of them kissing by the fountain accompanied the story.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes. She felt foolish for thinking she could have one moment of privacy. “Thank you for showing me this, Luca. May I take it to my room and read it?”

  He folded the paper and handed it to her. “Of course.”

  Serafia tucked it under her arm. “Please don’t mention it to the prince until I have a chance to read the article. I’ll discuss it with him at breakfast.”

  “As you wish. I’ll have Marta start preparing it.”

  Luca disappeared down the hallway, leaving Serafia with the newspaper clutched against her. Before anyone else saw her, she dashed down the hallway to her own room.

  Throwing the paper onto the bed, she headed straight for the shower. As the steaming hot water pounded her sore muscles and washed away Gabriel’s scent from her skin, her mind started to race with the implications of the article. From what little she’d read, the tone didn’t seem negative. The prince and his quest for a bride would be front page news no matter who he was seen with. But that didn’t do much to calm her anxiety.

  She should’ve known better than to think that someone hadn’t noticed their departure from the ballroom and followed them outside. She hadn’t noticed anyone there, but with the walls of hedges and arborvitae columns, there were plenty of places to hide and spy on their painfully private moments together.

  Hopefully whoever took their picture hadn’t been able to hear their conversation over the sound of the nearby fountain. The photo was one thing, but she didn’t want the revelations about her departure from modeling to taint Gabriel somehow.

  Stepping from the shower, Serafia wrapped herself in a fluffy white towel and started combing through the thick and easily tangled strands of her hair. She rushed through the rest of her morning routine. Trying to maintain a bit of professionalism, she put her hair up in a tight bun and dressed in a dark plum pantsuit. They had another official event to attend this afternoon, so she might as well get ready and put her consultant hat back on.

  After she slipped on her shoes, she reached for the paper and read through both articles on Gabriel. The first, about his introduction at the Rowling party, was extremely positive. The consensus was that he was well received and those in attendance were pleased to have such a fine man to be their future king.

  The second article, about her, wasn’t really bad, either. It discussed the various ladies he had danced with that night, highlighting Helena Ruiz as his first choice and Serafia as his last. Of course, there was the photo of them kissing, and then a lot of speculation about whether or not she was really his social secretary, or if it was a cover for their relationship. If they were dating, was it serious? Might she be their new queen? The few people they interviewed for the article seemed to think she’d make a good candidate for queen of Alma and would make a charming match for Gabriel.

  It wasn’t a horrible write-up, but she really wished she could have avoided the papers. How could he turn around and select one of the other women in Alma after this? No one wanted to be second choice and really, she wasn’t in the running to be queen, despite what they might think.

  Or was she?

  Gabriel seemed as serious about her as he had been about anything they’d discussed so far. He’d swept her off her feet and for once, she’d gone with it and had an amazing night. She hadn’t entertained second thoughts about it, but now anxiety started pooling in her stomach. She wasn’t opposed to being his lover, but queen? She wasn’t sure she could handle that. The only people more famous in Europe than models were the royal families. The United Kingdom’s Princess Kate couldn’t wear an unflattering dress or have a bad hair day without it being in the papers and commented on. Every time Prince Harry was seen with a woman, the rumors would fly.

  Serafia knew what it was like. In her modeling days, it wasn’t enough for everyone to critique her appearance, and they did. Her whole life was public. The cameras showed up on dates, on vacations, while she was trying to spend a day with her family. If she was dating anyone famous, the magnifying glass tripled along with the coverage. It was incredibly difficult to maintain a relationship under the micros
cope, much less a shred of self-esteem.

  It had nearly killed her to do it, but Serafia had escaped the spotlight. Gabriel’s queen would be subject to the same kind of scrutiny. The private would become painfully public, with every aspect of her life exposed. She had no intention of ever going back in front of the cameras.

  Even for Gabriel. Even for the chance to be queen. She would be much happier in Barcelona, living a quiet, unexciting life. Passionless, yes, but private.

  With a sigh, she folded up the paper and headed out to breakfast. By the time she reached the dining hall, Gabriel was dressed and waiting for her there. Without her standing by the closet, laying out his clothes, he’d opted for a pair of jeans and a clingy green T-shirt that matched his eyes. His hair was still wet and slicked back, his cheeks still slightly pink from his shave. He was sipping a cup of coffee and thumbing through emails on his smart phone.

  “Good morning,” she said as she entered the room. She had her tablet in one hand and the newspaper in the other.

  Gabriel smiled wide when he looked up at her. There was a wicked light in his eyes. “Good morning.”

  Serafia took a seat at the table across from him, holding off their discussion as Marta poured her a cup of coffee and returned to the kitchen to bring out their breakfast. They were three bites into their tortilla de patatas before she spoke about it.

  “Apparently,” she began, “we were not the only people out in the garden last night. Our kiss made the front page of the newspaper.” She laid the paper out on the table for Gabriel to look at it.

  He picked it up, reading over the article as he chewed his eggs, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I’m not surprised,” he said at last, dropping the paper on the table and returning to his breakfast. He didn’t seem remotely concerned.