His Royal Pleasure. Leanne Banks

clutched his hands, she struggled to release them.

      He ignored her struggles. “Ah, but how can you know when you haven’t learned my flavor?”

      “I don’t wa—”

      The rest of her words and breath were lost as his mouth came down on hers. She tried to purse her mouth again, but he sucked her lower lip and darted his tongue across her upper one.

      He gave her a moment’s respite, and she grabbed it as if it were a lifeline. “Cheater,” she hissed, breathless and angry because of it. “You’ve got my hands.”

      In an instant he released them, but before she could do anything, Al slid his hands through her hair, cradling her head. “It’s a sin to see a frown on such a beautiful mouth,” he chided in a velvet tone that sent shivers down her spine.

      “I’m sure you’re an expert on sin.”

      At his soft laughter she balled her fists and thought about bopping him on his hard head. Her ability to move, however, evaporated when he nibbled, then pressed his mouth against hers first one way, then another, and another, until she grew soft beneath him.

      He was sipping her like nectar. His tongue explored the tenderness just inside her lips. She felt like a rare delicacy he was savoring to the fullest. Her heart thundered against her chest, and she sighed, dropping her fists in mute surrender.

      One of his hands slid down her hair to her bare back, pressing her closer so that she felt the muscles of his chest, the tightness of his abdomen, the power of his thighs and the hard ridge between. And she knew he really wanted her. He wasn’t putting on an act that would end up making her feel foolish and humiliated.

      “Taste me, Katherine,” he murmured. His voice was needy, irresistibly needy.

      She couldn’t find the reserves to fight him. Rubbing her tongue against his, she tested the texture of his teeth and the roof of his mouth. He made a gruff, masculine sound of approval.

      Needing something to hold on to, she clung to his shoulders, her fingers squeezing restlessly. Her breasts were heavy, and she ached in secret places.

      As he mercilessly plundered her mouth, Katherine was lost to everything but him. She felt a clench deep inside her, increasing waves of sensation that threatened to drown her with their intensity.

      “Oh, my God,” she moaned, tearing herself from his arms.

      Utterly and completely humiliated, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away gasping for air. For God’s sake, what was wrong with her? All he’d done was kiss her.

      “Katherine,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

      She jerked away. “No! Don’t touch. Don’t talk. Just leave me alone.” She heard the huskiness in both their voices, felt his uneven breath on her shoulder, and nearly cried.

      “But you’re upset.”

      “I’ll be okay. Just give me a minute alone.”

      He paused. “I can’t leave you like this. Not after—”

      “Let’s not talk about it,” she said desperately. She cringed at the intimacy between them. He was too experienced not to know how aroused she’d been.

      “Look at me, Katherine.”

      There it was again, the note of command in his voice.

      When she looked up at him, his hair was ruffled by the wind, his dark eyes blazing with blunt desire. His cheeks flared with the dusky flush of passion. And as she looked at his swollen lips, she touched her own.

      “You’re not alone,” he said.

      She almost believed him. “Maybe not at this moment, but eventually I will be. It always ends that way.” The breeze cooled her face and gave her strength. “I’m just an ordinary woman who will end up getting hurt.” She paused, shaking her head. “I don’t know much about you, Al Sanders, but I know you’re not like other men.”

      His eyes flickered, then narrowed. The warmth of passion faded to something cold and bleak.

      He’s angry, she thought. He might even be hurt. The notion didn’t sit well. She tried to say something but couldn’t think of anything that didn’t leave her too vulnerable.

      Al turned away, effectively dismissing her.

      Something inside her compelled her to go after him. Don’t let him be lonely. But then she caught herself and forced herself to be still. This man could destroy her.

      For several long moments Katherine watched him, her mind and heart pulling in opposite directions. Finally she turned away and walked up the beach, shivering the whole way home, wondering why she felt so empty.

      The next morning Katherine focused on her upcoming appointment with James Logan. She persuaded Chad and one of her most dependable employees, Suzanne, to help out with the children. Katherine gave them a mile-long list of activities to do while she met with Mr. Logan.

      James Logan was a clever, middle-aged resort owner who talked circles around Katherine’s sales spiel. He’d griped the entire time. She countered each of his criticisms of the campground with a positive statement.

      He didn’t like the layout. He didn’t like the menu at lunch. He didn’t like the color of the paint in the cabins. Katherine just smiled and pointed out that beige didn’t show dirt.

      He didn’t seem to like much of anything. When they’d concluded the excruciatingly thorough tour, he’d said, “I’ll call you.” Translated: You’ll never hear from me again.

      Katherine was tired enough to be more relieved than disappointed. The only thing she wanted now was a six-hour bath. Her conscience chided her to check on how Suzanne and Chad were doing, so she hustled the rest of the way to the front porch. Pulling off the plastic poncho, Katherine laughed at her wet, mud-splattered appearance. “Give me a white flag,” she murmured to herself.

      The sound of applause filtered through the wooden door. Curious, she opened it and caught sight of Chad and a group of little boys playing cards. They were chewing gum and swilling Kool-Aid. A sliver of unease sifted through her. Chad wouldn’t teach them poker, would he?

      Noting the backs of the cards, Katherine relaxed. Old Maid.

      She pushed the door open wider. The activity on the other side of the room stopped her midmotion. A lamp, minus its shade, perched on a low stool. A small army of boys and girls holding switches lunged and feinted as if sword fighting. Their movements created a dancing display of shadows on the far wall.

      Al called out and showed them a movement. They stopped to watch, then, in unison, imitated his precision with childlike awkwardness.

      “En garde,” he said in a commander’s voice.

      “En garde,” they returned, and copied his bow.

      A chill ran down her spine.

      The whole scene carried an air of unreality. Al feinted and parried with his imaginary opponent, moving with agility and skill. His shadow looked larger than life. She could almost imagine him in times of old, protecting, defending, conquering.

      His powerful body flexed with tension. His face was set with concentration. This was no game for him, Katherine sensed. It made her wonder about him. Who was he? Why was he here? What did he want from her?

      He lunged and took the killing stroke through the heart of his victim. The room cheered. He turned, faced the crowd and gave a brief bow.

      Chad came up beside her.

      Katherine forced her gaze to her brother. “How’d it go?”

      He shrugged. “Not bad. Big Napoleon here got everyone straight this morning.”

      “Big Napoleon?”

      Chad grinned, pleased with himself. “Yeah. It’s my new nickname