doesn’t mean I consent to going to Castaldini now.”
He sat back, all tension leaving his body, a look of gratification sweeping across his breathtaking face. “Give me one reason why you’re so against going.”
She had to blink to clear the glaze of hypnosis from her eyes. “I can give you a volume as thick as your prenup.”
“One incontestable reason should suffice. And ‘because I don’t want to’ doesn’t count.”
“Of course what I want doesn’t count. You made that clear.”
His pout made her want to drag him down and sink her teeth into those lips that had just reinjected his addiction into her system. “I made it clear that I changed my mind, about many things. Be flexible and change yours.”
“I don’t owe you any flexibility, either. I let you steamroll me by letting me think this was going to be a short trip inside my country. I didn’t sign on to leave it.”
“As my bride, you will leave it. Though not forever.”
“Yeah, only for a one-year term. But I get to choose when that will begin.”
“I meant you’d always be free to return, to go anywhere. This time, you can go back to New York tomorrow if you wish.”
“I don’t want to leave New York in the first place. I can’t just hop to another country!”
“Why not? You do that all the time in your work.”
“Well, this isn’t work. And speaking of work, I can’t drop everything with no notice.”
“You’re on vacation, remember?”
“I have other things to do besides work.”
“Like what?” He met her fury with utmost serenity.
“Okay, I changed my mind, too. You’re not a bulldozer. You’re an ocean. You’d erode mountains. No, a tsunami. You uproot everything, subside only with everything submerged under your control.”
He chuckled. “As much as I enjoy having you dissect and detail my vices, food is becoming a pressing issue. I had the chef prepare favorite dishes from Castaldini for you to sample.”
Her hands itched to tweak that dimpled cheek, hard. “Don’t change the subject.”
Ignoring her, he undid his seat belt, then leaned into her, undoing hers. “You really shouldn’t risk me getting any hungrier—in every way.”
Her gaze slid to the evidence of one hunger and…whoa.
She tore her gaze up, only to slam into his watchful, knowing, enticing one. Gasping with the need to explore him, she said, “Even in food you’re giving me no choice.”
He separated from her lingeringly, pushing buttons in a panel by the couch. It was still only when he stood up that she realized they were cruising steadily.
“I am. My choice is to feast on you and to hell with food. I’m giving you the choice to avoid what you really want by choosing food, for now.”
She bit back a retort. It would be silly to deny his assessment, when only the pilot’s announcement had saved her from being wrapped around him naked right now, begging for—and taking—everything.
Exasperated with both of them, she ignored his inviting hand to rise and walk to where he indicated. Behind a screen of gorgeous lacelike woodwork at the far end of the lounge by the closed quarters was a stunning table-for-two setup.
Though everything in the compartment felt like authentic masterpieces, with the distinctive designs of seventeenth-or eighteenth-century Castaldini, the furniture was discreetly mounted on rails embedded in the fuselage. Exquisite, delicately carved, polished mahogany chairs were upholstered in burgundy glossy-on-matte floral-patterned silk. The matching round table was draped in the most intricate beige tape-lace tablecloth she’d ever seen, set over longer burgundy organza, with its pattern echoing the stunning hand-painted china laid out on top. Lit candles, crystal glasses, a vase with a conflagration of burgundy and cream roses, linen napkins, silver cutlery and a dozen other accents—all monogrammed with the royal insignia of Castaldini—completed the breathtaking arrangement.
She looked up at him as
He sat back, all tension leaving his body, a look of gratification sweeping across his breathtaking face. “Give me one reason why you’re so against going.”
She had to blink to clear the glaze of hypnosis from her eyes. “I can give you a volume as thick as your prenup.”
“One incontestable reason should suffice. And ‘because I don’t want to’ doesn’t count.”
“Of course what I want doesn’t count. You made that clear.”
His pout made her want to drag him down and sink her teeth into those lips that had just reinjected his addiction into her system. “I made it clear that I changed my mind, about many things. Be flexible and change yours.”
“I don’t owe you any flexibility, either. I let you steamroll me by letting me think this was going to be a short trip inside my country. I didn’t sign on to leave it.”
“As my bride, you will leave it. Though not forever.”
“Yeah, only for a one-year term. But I get to choose when that will begin.”
“I meant you’d always be free to return, to go anywhere. This time, you can go back to New York tomorrow if you wish.”
“I don’t want to leave New York in the first place. I can’t just hop to another country!”
“Why not? You do that all the time in your work.”
“Well, this isn’t work. And speaking of work, I can’t drop everything with no notice.”
“You’re on vacation, remember?”
“I have other things to do besides work.”
“Like what?” He met her fury with utmost serenity.
“Okay, I changed my mind, too. You’re not a bulldozer. You’re an ocean. You’d erode mountains. No, a tsunami. You uproot everything, subside only with everything submerged under your control.”
He chuckled. “As much as I enjoy having you dissect and detail my vices, food is becoming a pressing issue. I had the chef prepare favorite dishes from Castaldini for you to sample.”
Her hands itched to tweak that dimpled cheek, hard. “Don’t change the subject.”
Ignoring her, he undid his seat belt, then leaned into her, undoing hers. “You really shouldn’t risk me getting any hungrier—in every way.”
Her gaze slid to the evidence of one hunger and…whoa.
She tore her gaze up, only to slam into his watchful, knowing, enticing one. Gasping with the need to explore him, she said, “Even in food you’re giving me no choice.”
He separated from her lingeringly, pushing buttons in a panel by the couch. It was still only when he stood up that she realized they were cruising steadily.
“I am. My choice is to feast on you and to hell with food. I’m giving you the choice to avoid what you really want by choosing food, for now.”
She bit back a retort. It would be silly to deny his assessment, when only the pilot’s announcement had saved her from being wrapped around him naked right now, begging for—and taking—everything.
Exasperated with both of them, she ignored his inviting hand to rise and walk to where he indicated. Behind a screen of gorgeous lacelike woodwork at the far end of the lounge by the closed quarters was a stunning table-for-two setup.
Though everything in the compartment felt like authentic masterpieces, with the distinctive designs of seventeenth-or eighteenth-century Castaldini, the furniture was discreetly mounted on rails embedded in the fuselage. Exquisite, delicately carved, polished mahogany chairs were upholstered in burgundy glossy-on-matte floral-patterned silk. The matching round table was draped in the most intricate beige tape-lace tablecloth she’d ever seen, set over longer burgundy organza, with its pattern echoing the stunning hand-painted china laid out on top. Lit candles, crystal glasses, a vase with a conflagration of burgundy and cream roses, linen napkins, silver cutlery and a dozen other accents—all monogrammed with the royal insignia of Castaldini—completed the breathtaking arrangement.
She looked up at him as
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