Reluctantly, she straightened.
The reality of what had just happened slammed into her. How had a petting session gotten out of hand so quickly? And was she so damn needy that she was only seconds away from an orgasm, regardless of the circumstances or the fact that they hadn't even gotten naked?
"Second thoughts are not allowed," Rafael told her in a low voice, thick with passion. "I forbid them."
"You're not the boss of me."
"Very mature." He smiled. "Are you angry?"
She shook her head. "Just… embarrassed."
"No. Not that. Never that. You are so responsive. Each man likes to believe he is a master in the bedroom. I more so than most."
"All that practice," she said wryly.
"Perhaps. But with you, I know it to be true. However I touch you, you are pleasured."
As if to demonstrate, he slid his fingers between her legs and rubbed. He immediately found her swollen center and circled it. Another climax claimed her.
She sucked in a breath, then pushed his hand away. "Stop that," she said as she stood. "You've made your point."
He rose and grabbed her wrist. "I think not. You are fire, Mia, and there is no greater gift to a man than to burn for him." He brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it. "I have missed your flames. No one else burns as you do."
She still felt funny about what had happened. No one enjoyed being a living example of a life of celibacy. She doubted Rafael had done without for more than fifteen seconds.
"Whatever," she said as she walked away.
He grabbed her again. "Mia. Do not dismiss what we have together. It is magnificent."
She wanted to believe him. She very nearly did. For her part, he had been amazing. Not just because he knew how to arouse her and make her whimper, but because the chemistry between them was so powerful. That couldn't have gone away, she told herself. He had to have felt it, too.
So if he had then, did he now?
She stared into his eyes and willed herself to see the truth. There was need and desire and nothing else. No hint of secrets, no holding back. It was as if she could see down into his soul.
"All right," she said. "I won't do the regret dance, but we're not doing this again. It's a very powerful form of persuasion and I'm not interested in being coerced."
He smiled his agreement, then took her hand in his. "I will concede to your wishes on the condition you show me the regret dance. Do you perform it naked?"
She sighed. "It's a figure of speech."
"No. It must be real. I will it so."
She rolled her eyes. "Welcome to the new world, prince. Here we're all equal and no one cares about your will."
He leaned close and whispered in her ear. "Perhaps you ignore my will, but what will you do with my wants?"
A shiver of desire rippled through her. An excellent question, she thought, and one for which she had no answer.
* * *
That evening Rafael escaped the loud chaos that signaled the end of the Marcelli evening meal by stepping outside for a few moments. He crossed to the fence by the garden and stared up at the stars.
Usually he enjoyed the conversation and animation of the family, but not this evening. Tonight they had been an annoyance. He had wanted to command them all to leave so that he could be alone with Mia.
He had not bothered to express his will— no one would have listened. How he longed for Calandria, where his word was law and he could drag Mia into his bed without anyone interfering.
Their game this afternoon had started as a way for him to convince her to accept his proposal. He'd been sure if she felt the fire again, she would be unable to resist him. Unfortunately, the fire had burned both ways, and no matter how he tried, he could not forget the feel of her body against his.
He had been hard for hours. Every time he managed to get his desire under control, he remembered the taste of her kiss and the feel of her breasts, and blood rushed to his groin.
Nothing helped, he thought grimly. Not thoughts of sports or finance or discussing the particulars of growing tomatoes with Grandma Tessa. He simply had to hear Mia's voice or catch sight of her, and he ached to take her.
Ironic that in this one area he did not have to pretend. He meant what he said— she was spectacularly sexual and he was desperate to revisit their passion.
A sharp scent caught his attention. He turned and saw a cigarette tip glowing in the darkness. He moved toward it and recognized the smoker.
"Good evening," he said.
Kelly Reese glanced at him. "Are you going to rat me out?"
"Of course not. What you do with your life is your business."
She sighed and continued to lean against the side of the garage. "Whatever. Aren't you going to lecture me about the perils of smoking?"
He shrugged. "Do you want me to?"
"Not especially. I know it's not great for my endurance, but it helps me keep my weight down. Let me tell you, being this skinny isn't pleasant. I've been hungry since I was fifteen."
He looked her over. She had the typical dancer's build. Powerful, lean muscles without an ounce of body fat to soften the lines. She was tall with perfect posture and wild, curly red hair tumbling down her back.
"So you suffer for your art," he said.
"That's me. Cliché girl."
Her phrasing reminded him of Mia, which made him hard again. He swore silently.
"How long have you been dating Etienne?" he asked, knowing the shadows would keep his secret. He did not want this child to think he was interested in her.
"A couple of months. Everybody hates him. It's the Euro-trash thing. You'd think I'd know better. My mom married some guy who was supposed to be a count or something and he wasn't. But, hey, it's not my problem."
"Did Etienne tell you he came from a titled family?"
"No. His dad is a policeman and his mother works in a bakery."
Working class, which fit his accent. Etienne might not be much for personal grooming, but at least he wasn't a liar. Not that Rafael cared one way or the other.
"So you knew Mia from a long time ago," Kelly said. "Obviously, what with you being Danny's father. It's weird. Why didn't you come after her before?"
"I was told she was dead."
Kelly stared at him. "Huh. So she thought you were dead and you thought she was dead. Interesting coincidence."
"More sad than interesting. I mourned Mia for a long time."
Kelly's green eyes seemed to see more than most. "At least it's a good story," she said at last.
"You do not believe me." How could she not?
"What I think doesn't matter. Mia has always known what she wanted and no one gets in the way of that. If she wants you, no one will be able to change her mind."
"You don't like me," he said.
Kelly inhaled on her cigarette, then dropped it to the ground and stepped on it. "I'm not real keen on the Euro-trash set."
He stiffened. "I am Crown Prince Rafael of Calandria."
"I know. I'm sure the housing is much nicer, but you're still the type. Playing on what you have to get what you want. Right now you want Mia."
The child saw too much. Old before her years, he thought, recognizing the symptoms. For him the reason had been his upbringing, for her it was her commitment to ballet. He could both admire and sympathize with her position.
She picked up the butt and slipped it into her pocket. "I'm going to give you some advice, I don't know why. Maybe in exchange for you not mentioning the smoking thing. Don't screw with her. Joe will kill you."
"That is not possible."
Kelly grinned. "You think those two bodyguards could protect you? Not in this lifetime. Nobody gets to Joe's family, and Mia is one of his favorites."
Her total confidence surprised him. "He would be killed as well."
"Maybe, but you'd be dead first. This is a friendly warning, worth what you paid for it."
Kelly walked away. Rafael watched her go. The child's words did not frighten him— nor did the thought of facing an angry Joe Marcelli. But he was surprised to feel something like regret.
It was increasingly obvious that Mia could be hurt by his plan. He didn't want to wound but he did require his son. Was there perhaps another way?
He immediately shook off the question. Sacrifices would be made by all. If Mia's were greatest, so be it.
* * *
Mia sat curled up in an old leather chair in the library. She loved the room with its high arched ceilings and the tall bookshelves filled with everything from rare first editions to her old copies of Seventeen magazine. She loved the quiet and the fact that no one ever thought to look for her here, but mostly she loved that the room reminded her of her grandfather.
Lorenzo had been gone five years. He'd never known about Danny, hadn't lived to see Joe and Darcy marry. Right now she missed the old man and his gruff ways. She had a feeling he would cut right to the heart of the matter with Rafael.
But what would he say? Would he tell her to marry the father of her son and be a good wife or would he shake his head and say that in a world that runs by computers, who needs princes?
The door opened. Mia tensed slightly, not sure she would welcome any interruption. Then Rafael stepped into the room and she felt her heart flutter in anticipation.
Great. She was falling for him again. Just what she needed, because her life wasn't complicated enough these days.
"I am interrupting?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Not really. I'm going over my classes for the fall term at law school. I'm getting down to the serious stuff for my specialty and it's…" She blinked at his look of surprise. "What?"
"You plan to continue to attend law school?"
She put the catalog on the desk and scrambled to her feet. "Did you think you would stop me?"
"Of course not, it is just if we are married, you will not be able to practice law. Not in the traditional sense," he added quickly, then smiled. "You are right. You should complete your education, so when you speak before our parliament, you know exactly what you want to say."
She wasn't totally buying the sudden transformation. "Why would I be speaking before parliament?"
"Because you will never be silent, Mia. It is, how do you say… Not your style? You are life and you must be a part of things. I think that if you were to come to my country, you would want to tax the casinos more to pay for education. Perhaps you would start a teaching hospital so our future doctors did not go away to France or England."
"So you're saying I could affect policy."
"Of course. As queen you can do anything."
Except live a normal life.
He motioned to the chair she'd been in and waited until she sat before claiming the one next to it.
"What troubles you?" he asked. "I know you are finding it difficult to resist my charms."
She laughed. "That pesky ego. Doesn't it ever get heavy, carrying it around all the time?"
"No. I am used to the weight." His smile faded. "Tell me, Mia. I wish to know."
She drew in a breath, not sure she could even articulate her concerns. "Calandria is very far away."
"That is true. However, you will have access to several private jets to take you wherever you want. Your family is no more than eight or nine hours away. They would also be welcome to visit us whenever they wanted."
"I'm not really princess"— she couldn't bring herself to say queen— "material. I'm not royal or rich or anything special."
His gaze narrowed. "What more would you require to be special? You are uniquely yourself."
She sensed that he was going to reach for her hand and snatched it back just in time. He grasped air, then raised his eyebrows.