Page 32 of Crowned for His Son

Maybe she was imagining the depths of his penetrative gaze, but Eden couldn’t recall ever experiencing such intensity. Her lips parted as she tried to drag air into her lungs.

‘If memory serves…’ he rasped, and then his hands disappeared into the tresses, his fingers lightly running through them before gripping a handful. ‘It still feels like the most exquisite silk. Even from across a room it is extremely eye-catching,’ he finished, almost to himself.

At her unguarded gasp his fingers tightened, setting her scalp tingling delightfully. He leaned closer, his lips scant inches away. She couldn’t help running her gaze over the sensual curves of his mouth. It was unfair that he knew what their kiss tasted like, while she was left to wonder. The need to know made her sway closer, her heart pounding with sweet desperation.

‘It would be positively sinful to shear even a millimetre off this…’ he breathed.

Oh, God, how was it possible that a discussion of her hair could get her this hot?

‘Tell me you’ll leave it alone.’

The demand was edged with that customary imperiousness she suspected was bred into his DNA.

‘If you feel that strongly about it, then yes,’ she whispered.

Then she watched his eyes darken, his gaze dropping to her mouth.

A sound left her—a cross between a protest and a whimper that would have made her cringe if she hadn’t felt so very needy.

Kiss me, she wanted to demand.Please.

Noticing that her hands had somehow crept up to his chest, and feeling his steady heartbeat, indicating he wasn’t as affected as she, common sense slowly rose, then prevailed—although it stung a little when she saw the composure reflected in his eyes.

She was still scrambling to understand her confused emotions when he released her, strolled several steps away, then pivoted to face her, his hands slotted suavely into his pockets.

Eden ignored how that sexy stance threatened her common sense.

‘We’re dining out tonight,’ he told her.

She forced her brain to keep track. ‘Are we?’

He gave a brisk nod. ‘Now that you’ve agreed to marry me, we need to set the stage appropriately for what comes next.’

Her heart lurched. ‘Which is…?’

‘Ensuring the right publicity so the effect of our announcement has the right impact. We must be seen in public a few times before we spring our news on the world.’

She frowned. ‘So we’re to put a gloss on things? Pretend this is some sort of love-match rush to the altar? Isn’t that disingenuous?’

A muscle rippled in his jaw. ‘You’ll discover soon enough that, while sceptics abound, most citizens still prefer their leaders not be embroiled in messy relationships or emotional strife. Like it or not, we’re duty-bound to be aspirational, which means we have a role to fulfil.’

‘Does that scepticism apply to you as well?’

His expression grew grave, coldly contemplative. ‘For our son’s sake we’ll endeavour to be cordial and civil to one another at the very least. You’ll agree that’s essential and non-negotiable, yes?’

‘Put like that, it would be churlish of me to refuse, wouldn’t it?’

‘Meaning what? That I’m stopping you from demanding more?’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Won’t “demanding more” make me a gold-digger, striving to reach above her lowly station in life, or earn me some other deplorable label levelled at women like me?’

It was an insult her father had thrown at sixteen-year-old Eden that day at his gaudy Hollywood mansion.

A faint flare of colour lit high on his cheekbones, telling her she’d hit the bullseye with that observation. Which sank her spirits.

‘Have the women you’ve dealt with in the past really been that venal?’ she asked.

A sardonic smile twitched his lips. ‘You believe that’s only limited to your gender?’

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