Page 31 of Royal Games (The Royals of Monterra)

His arms were around me so tightly I could barely breathe, his hands moving and stroking as he deepened the kiss. I had my arms around his neck, and I couldn’t concentrate on anything except all the amazing sensations I was experiencing. It was like I had been made to kiss him, to be held by him. Like I had wandered the planet for two decades not knowing exactly why I was here, and in that moment, I was convinced it was to be with him.

My lungs had started to burn from a lack of oxygen, but I didn’t care. If it was my time to go, this was exactly how I would choose to spend my last moments on earth.

He had broken it off suddenly, his gaze drawn toward the trees. His chest heaved, his heartbeat strong and fast against my palm. I was breathing so hard I could have blown a house down. As my senses returned to me, I realized that the horses had been neighing, disturbed by something. And just past them I could make out a camera crew.

I knew my cheeks must have been cherry red, but my skin was so flushed that I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to tell. I put my hand to my mouth as it fell open. I didn’t know if my thundering heartbeat was because of what I had just experienced, or the shock of discovering that they had recorded our first kiss. Rafe’s posture had gone rigid, and he stepped in front of me so that the crew couldn’t film me.

“We should go,” he murmured against my skin, making me sigh again.

We walked back to the horses, hand in hand. I even let him help me get back up in the saddle. Everything was different now. Everything had changed. Surely he couldn’t be going around kissing everyone like that.

It was special.

We were special.

And this was real.

As I remembered our first kiss, I was glad that I hadn’t known then how things would turn out. How he would lie to me and use me. How an intimate and personal moment had been captured and shown to the whole world, but none of it had been special or real. It hurt me now to think about it, but I hoped that someday I would be able to look back and remember that moment, that perfection and chemistry between us, with a smile instead of sadness.

“I’m okay,” I told him, smiling as best I could so he would just take me home. He hesitated, but then he started up the car.

This should be my lesson learned for not staying home and doing homework. And for taking Nicole’s advice. Look where it landed me.

He pulled his SUV to the very end of the driveway, halfway between his guesthouse and my kitchen. As the dome light turned on, it was then that I realized we were both covered in horse blood and other birth-related liquids. I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t have a choice since it was my fault he had stuff on him. “You should probably come inside so we get can cleaned up.”

As I crunched through the snow, I cursed myself for wearing flats that the cold could slip inside. Now my toes were freezing. At the top of the porch, I tried to shake off as much moisture as I could.

“Do you ever dress appropriately for the weather?” Rafe asked, looking at my shoes.

“It changes so often you never know what you’re going to need.” I didn’t deliberately dress inappropriately, I just wore what I wanted. Okay, maybe he was a little bit right. But wasn’t it my prerogative to dress the way I wanted to?

He came into the kitchen behind me, and I grabbed some dishtowels to clean up the water from the floor. I tossed them into the dryer.

Originally, our washer and dryer had been in the basement, but when I moved here Aunt Sylvia had put them upstairs because I was too terrified to go down there. It was an old basement, windowless, dark, damp, and musty. It was like entering a tomb.

I stood at the sink, washing what I could from my skin, scrubbing with the industrial-type soap I kept in here for this purpose. I knew he was watching me, because my skin tingled from the attention. “Here, go ahead,” I said when I had finished.

While I dried my hands, I tried not to watch him, the way his forearms moved under the water and soap, how his corded muscles flexed in a way that made me a little light-headed. In this brighter light, it was easier to see all the stains on his shirt.

“You should probably let me wash that for you,” I said. He didn’t have a washing machine at the guesthouse, and if it didn’t get cleaned soon, it would probably set.

“Okay,” he said. Before I could comprehend what was happening, he took off his coat and then did that sexy thing guys did when they took off their shirts—he grabbed it behind his neck and pulled it forward, handing it to me.

Leaving him very shirtless and me very tempted. My eyes widened as my mouth turned into an O shape.

I think a full minute passed while I devoured him with my eyes before I realized what I was doing. My skin was prickly and hot. He was painfully beautiful, but extremely aggravating. I pressed a hand against my cheek.

“I didn’t mean right now,” I finally said.

“Didn’t you?” he said in a silky tone, and I almost gasped in outrage. “I wouldn’t blame you for it. You know you can’t fight the moonlight.”

My outrage multiplied. That was my mom’s saying, not his. And certainly not ours. “It’s a crescent moon,” I retorted. I barely refrained from sticking out my tongue at him and adding, “So there.”

You are not a child,I reminded myself. And he ... he most definitely was not a child, either.

“Good night,” he said with a knowing smile, walking out the back door. He didn’t shut it, and he let the screen door slam behind him.

So infuriating. He deserved to freeze on the way back after that little stunt.

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