CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SIX

DAXHADN’TINTENDED to kiss Laia. Yet here he was, mouth fused to hers, and he’d never felt anything so erotically charged. She was everything he’d imagined—fantasised—and more.

She was soft and yet hard at the same time. Her hand was curled into his over his chest. He burned where she’d put her hand over his heart. No one had ever touched him like that. Her breasts were crushed to his chest. When had they moved so close that he could feel every inch of her lithe, supple body?

Her other arm crept around his neck. Dax desperately tried to claw back some sense of control, some coherence around why he was doing this, but it was impossible. It had something to do with needing to make her stop talking...stop looking at him as if she could see all the way down to his deepest darkest shadows.

She was lush and sweet and hesitant and bold all at once. Her mouth opened under his and Dax was lost, drowning, spinning into infinity. He’d kissed women. Many, many women. Not as many as people thought, but a lot. Enough to know that this kiss was unlike any other.

It beat through him like a drum: his, his, his.

He wanted this woman. He wanted to taste every inch of her and he wanted to sink so deep inside her that she would be ruined for all other men.

A klaxon went off in his brain—she’s not yours to ruin!

Dax jerked his head backwards so fast he felt dizzy. Laia opened her eyes. They looked unfocused. Her mouth was swollen. They were still welded together—chest, thighs, hips. His body was aching and hard, pressing against her soft belly.

Dax put his hands on her arms and took a step back, pushed her away from him.

Laia blinked. ‘What was that?’

‘That,’ Dax said grimly, ‘was a mistake.’

Laia was still trying to process what had just happened. An earthquake? But the island seemed fine. The sea was calm. No. The earthquake had happened inside her. One minute she’d been standing there, looking at Dax, and the next...the next she’d been consumed.

She could still feel his mouth on hers, hard. His body against hers, hard. She grew warm when she registered exactly how hard...pressed against her belly.

She’d imagined that kiss her whole life. That was the kiss of her dreams and fantasies. Yet it had burnt her imaginings to dust. She’d never expected to feel so full of fire. So full of earthy lustiness. She’d never expected to feel that ache in her lower body. That pooling of heat between her legs. The way her breasts had felt heavy and tight.

Dax was holding something out to her. She looked at it. Her kaftan.

He said, ‘Please, put this on.’

Laia felt uncoordinated as she took it and tried to figure out where the arm and head holes were. She heard a curse, and then seconds later Dax had stepped closer and was putting it over her head.

Laia, ridiculously, felt like giggling at Dax’s stern expression. He was helping her find the armholes now and threading her arms through. The light, diaphanous material settled around her body, covering her.

Then he started striding back up the beach towards the trees.

Laia called out, ‘Where are you going?’

He threw over his shoulder, ‘Back to the villa.’

Laia realised at that moment that her legs were like jelly. She sank down onto the sand. She just needed a moment to assimilate different things.

Dax wanted her.

She’d felt it.

She was sure it was just a consequence of his being stuck on this island with her...he was a highly sexed man. But her plan to seduce him didn’t look so ridiculous any more. At least she knew he wanted her.

She sat there in a semi stupor for long minutes. Rendered insensible by a kiss. A mere kiss. It was pathetic, really. But it was also glorious. The culmination of all her ardent longings since she’d laid eyes on him that first time in Paris. And it had surpassed anything her fevered brain could have imagined.

She visualised Dax coming back down to check on her and finding her here like this—wrecked after a kiss—and scrambled to her feet.

She tried to reduce the significance of what had just happened as she walked back. It had just been the culmination of years of longing for something—if Dax kissed her again surely it wouldn’t have the same effect?

But just the thought of Dax kissing her again made Laia almost miss her footing on the path. She cursed softly. She had to get it together. She had a job to do. Seduce Dax, and in the process make it crystal-clear that she would never be marrying his brother.

And then put Dax and the past behind her and get on with her life. A life on her terms.

Dax was coming down to the kitchen level after taking a long, cold shower when Laia returned from the beach. She looked like a sexy sea nymph, with her hair in a wild sea salt tangle around her shoulders and skin burnished from the sun. Bare feet.

At least she was wearing the kaftan, which covered her body from throat to thigh. But even in spite of that he remembered what she’d felt like pressed against him, and the effects of the cold shower wore off in an instant.

Merda.

She looked at him. ‘You wanted to talk to your assistant?’

He’d forgotten completely. ‘Yes.’

‘Is it okay if I shower first? And then I’ll bring the phone down.’

Dax made some sound of assent and tried not to imagine Laia in the shower.

She padded upstairs to the bedrooms.

Dax wasn’t sure what he’d expected, and it should be a good thing that she obviously wasn’t going to make any reference to the kiss, but it also made him feel prickly.

Had she taken his words to heart and put it down to a mistake, too? Happy to forget about it? Even though he would bet that it had been as erotic an experience for her as it had been for him, if her reaction had been anything to go by.

Now he felt incensed that she seemed inclined to ignore it. Which was ridiculous. He’d betrayed his brother just by kissing her! He’d created a situation where he would have to endure watching Laia by Ari’s side while the memory of that kiss burned a hole in his gut.

No. It was just a kiss. A kiss that meant nothing.

Dax cursed again and went to the kitchen, randomly pulling out ingredients. He needed to make himself busy.

After about half an hour, Laia was back.

Dax’s brain went blank for a second. She was wearing cut-off shorts and a Lycra crop top that lovingly outlined her breasts. Her waist dipped in and flared out again gently. Her skin was smooth and golden. Dark hair was pulled back into a damp plait.

It took him a moment to realise she was holding out the phone. ‘John is on speaker.’

Dax’s brain was sluggish. He wanted to snatch the phone from her and instruct his assistant to send a plane, helicopter—anything—immediately. But he couldn’t. He gritted his jaw and forced himself to focus, then reeled off a list of things he wanted his assistant to work on.

When he was finished, Laia terminated the call. She made a little whistling sound. ‘What did your last slave die of?’

Dax forced himself not to respond. ‘A lot of people depend on me for their livelihoods.’ He winced inwardly. He sounded like his brother now. Uptight. Ha! Ari would laugh his head off.

Laia looked sheepish as she put the phone in a back pocket. ‘I’m sorry, I know you have responsibilities.’

Dax went still. ‘Not so long ago you were saying the opposite.’

A dark flush came into her cheeks. She looked at his mouth, and then back up. ‘I... That wasn’t fair. Like you said, I don’t know the background.’

She looked at his mouth again. Suddenly all Dax could hear was the rush of blood to his head. He wanted to kiss her again. And this time not stop.

He moved back around the kitchen island. He was determined to pretend it had never happened.

And that’s going really well, mocked a little voice.

‘I’m making a seafood platter for dinner, okay?’

‘Sounds perfect. I’m going down to the pontoon. Some fresh supplies are coming in.’

Dax looked at her. She was backing away.

‘Needless to say, please don’t try anything. The security guards will be watching.’

Dax was irritated that his first thought wasn’t to devise some way to overcome the boatman and make his escape, but to welcome some distance between him and Laia. Right now, if she’d told him she was leaving him on the island while she went back to the mainland he would have welcomed it.

Laia carried the bags back up to the villa. Her face burned when she thought of one thing in particular that she’d ordered. A big box of condoms.

The box was light in the bag, but it felt like a ton weight. Weighed down by her hubris in thinking that she could entice Dax into more than a kiss. He’d made no reference to it just now. Clearly sending a signal that it had been, as he’d called it, a mistake.

But he had kissed her. So she knew he wanted her.

Her conscience pricked again at the thought of pitting him against his brother, but as far as she was concerned his brother had no jurisdiction here and no claim over her. This was her last few days as a free woman. And she wanted Dax to be her first lover.

What if it hadn’t worked out like this? Would you still be hating Prince Dax or would you be able to move on?

As Laia huffed her way up the steps she had to concede that if she’d never come face to face with Dax again then she might have fooled herself into believing she disapproved of him and didn’t find him remotely attractive.

But all it would have taken would have been a face-to-face meeting like this one and she would have been forced to acknowledge her desire and complicated feelings for the man.

In a way, it was a blessing that it was happening now, here on this island. She could put Dax and her attraction to him behind her after this. Move on with no regrets. No unfulfilled fantasies.

First you have to sleep with him, reminded a little voice.

Laia got to the top step, out of breath, sweat running down her forehead and between her breasts.

Suddenly Dax appeared, and Laia had to take a moment to appreciate the incongruity of the image—the world’s most infamous playboy with a tea towel thrown over his shoulder.

And yet it didn’t diminish his sex appeal one little bit. If anything, the hint of domesticity added to it.

Once again he looked totally at ease and at home in shorts and a polo shirt open at the neck. Laia wanted to press her mouth there and then move it down, over his chest, her teeth finding a nipple, biting gently before—

‘Bags?’

Dax interrupted her suddenly rampant imagination and she saw he was holding his hands out to take the bags. Laia handed them over, but at the last second remembered and kept one back, clutching it to her chest muttering, ‘Feminine products.’

The thought of Dax seeing the box of condoms was too horrifying to contemplate.

He went back towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll put these away.’

Laia fled upstairs with her cargo and put the box deep into one of the bathroom cabinets. She looked at herself in the mirror. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed. She looked guilty. She was in full on crush mode and it was heady. She’d never really fancied anyone before.

Because it had always been Dax.

Feeling restless, Laia locked her door and dug out her phone, hoping that there might be a message from Maddi, but there was nothing. She suspected that Maddi had disabled her phone in a bid to protect Laia.

Laia went online to check what was happening, and saw pictures of King Aristedes and Maddi at a posh Santanger restaurant having lunch.

Maddi was wearing a jumpsuit, her arms bare. She looked very sleek and very beautiful. The King was wearing a suit. Laia immediately compared him to Dax. They were similarly good-looking, but where Aristedes was all clean lines and a neat, short beard hugging his jaw, Laia knew that Dax in the same scenario would be somehow...messy. Either his hair, or the stubble on his jaw that he couldn’t be bothered to shave after a night of passion with his latest lover...

He’d certainly given that impression every time he’d appeared in the tabloids.

Laia emitted a sound of frustration and got off the bed to pace back and forth. Everything in her education and upbringing had schooled her to find King Aristedes attractive. Not his reprobate brother.

But his brother was the one she wanted with every pulse of her blood.

For the first time in her life she had to recognise that there was wildness in her. A wildness that had been awoken the first time she’d laid eyes on Dax. That had lain dormant until they’d met again.

It was since that night in Monte Carlo that she’d begun avoiding King Aristedes in earnest. As if she’d been reminded of what she wanted even as she’d denied it to herself.

She went back to the laptop and looked at the pictures of Maddi again. Searching for a sign that her sister was somehow in peril or unhappy. If she saw even a hint of it she would arrange for someone to go and get her out of there, but there was no hint of discomfort or unhappiness.

To the contrary. She and the King were conversing intently. Totally engrossed with each other.

A tiny seed of a suspicion formed in Laia’s head as she looked at the pictures. Could it be possible that her sister and the King weren’t just acting out a fake engagement?

Laia put her hand to her mouth at the notion. She knew Maddi would do anything for her, that her loyalty was true and deep. But Laia had made it very clear that she had no intention of marrying Aristedes, so even if there was something between Maddi and Aristedes, Laia wouldn’t consider it a betrayal.

Laia also knew Maddi had a pragmatic approach to emotions and the notion of love. But as for desire...? As Laia was beginning to understand, once desire was involved all bets were off.

Considering her own situation... If Dax was determined to ignore the kiss, how was Laia going to remind him? And, more pertinently, encourage him to do it again?

Dax felt suspicious and he didn’t know why. Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why. Because he suspected Laia was up to something.

Since she’d brought the shopping up from the boat she’d appeared periodically during the course of the rest of the day, in those maddening cut-off shorts and the little crop top.

A tiny bikini was the only item of clothing that would have been more exposing.

First she’d helped him clear up his prep for dinner—he’d made the most of the fresh seafood the boatman had delivered and added it to the dish.

Then she’d gone off to do some gardening, reappearing with mud dotted on her knees and arms and face, carrying a big bunch of wild flowers that she’d artfully arranged in a huge vase.

Then, while he’d been watching a documentary in the media room, she’d appeared and asked very genially if he’d like anything. The sun had been going down, so he’d asked for a beer.

And now he sat here, nursing his beer and not concentrating on the documentary.

Had she really decided that their kiss was a mistake too? She was certainly behaving as if it hadn’t happened.

It shouldn’t be bothering him, because it had been weak and wrong to kiss her, but...

Dax’s hand gripped the beer bottle. Por Dios, it had felt like heaven.

He gave up on the documentary and switched off the TV. He went out into the kitchen area and came to a standstill.

Laia was naked.

He blinked. She wasn’t naked. But she was wearing a slinky silky slip of a dress that was approximately one shade lighter than her own skin tone.

She hadn’t noticed him standing there in mute shock, taking her in.

The dress had delicate spaghetti straps that looked as if they’d slip down a shoulder at any moment. There was a slightly dipped ruched bit at the front. It belatedly occurred to Dax that she wasn’t wearing a bra, because he could see no straps.

Her hair was up in an unfussy bun and her feet were bare. No jewellery, no adornment. She didn’t need it.

She was the image of understated sexiness. And that was before he noticed there was a slit on one side of the dress, so when she moved a length of very toned thigh was revealed.

She saw him and stood up from where she’d been checking something in the oven. She smiled brightly. ‘Shall I prepare the last bits for dinner and set the table?’

Dax had never cooked dinner with a woman before. Cooking was something he enjoyed privately. It was far too intimate to share.

‘Okay.’

Laia gestured vaguely towards his clothes. ‘Don’t feel like you have to make an effort just because I did.’

Dax’s gaze narrowed on her. His Spidey senses were tingling. ‘Laia, what are you up to?’

Her eyes widened. ‘What? I felt like dressing up a little. There are never usually guests here.’

‘Oh, so now I’m a guest? Call your boatman friend back and have him pick me up in an hour.’

Laia’s face paled a little, and for a second Dax thought she actually looked...hurt. Which was ridiculous. Except he had a sense at that moment—out of nowhere—of affinity. As if she knew what it was to feel alone, too.

When he and Ari had been separated so that Ari could concentrate on his important studies, Dax had spent long hours playing alone in the palace. In many ways when his mother had sought him out more and more Dax had almost welcomed it, because he’d felt lonely. He just hadn’t realised how claustrophobic her attention would become. Or how all-consuming.

Dax noticed Laia was drawing back into herself, smoothing her expression. Becoming the polished Princess again. And he didn’t welcome it. He had to admit that if she told him he could leave right now, he’d hesitate. More than hesitate.

And he couldn’t pretend that it had anything to do with persuading her to go to his brother and fulfil her obligations.

The woman behind the Princess, who walked around in cut-off shorts and bare feet and little teasing crop tops...who kissed like a siren from a mythical tale...was tying him in knots. And he had a feeling she knew it too.

But he wasn’t going to play her game. He had more control than that.

He put down his beer and said, ‘I’m joking, of course. Why would I leave this beautiful place and such a generous host? I’ll freshen up.’

Laia cursed herself when Dax left the kitchen. She had to stop looking so obviously hurt when he said he wanted to leave. Of course he didn’t want to be here—she’d trapped him!

But still... She’d thought that in spite of everything there was...something between them. Apart from all the obvious things they had in common, like both being from royal dynasties.

And that kiss.

She made a face at the dress she’d chosen to wear. She’d pulled it out on a whim. She knew it was audacious. She felt naked in it. But if she was going to test Dax’s control then she didn’t have much time to lose.

He struck her as a man who prided himself on his control, which she realised ran contrary to what she’d assumed about him before she’d got to know him.

Like a lot of other things that ran contrary to what she’d expected...

A timer went off and Laia broke out of her reverie and turned off the grill. The array of seafood looked mouthwateringly delicious. Grilled lobster, snapper fillet, pepper prawns and calamari. She helped herself to a juicy prawn, using her fingers, and almost groaned at the taste. She could see how food like this was an aphrodisiac.

Before she made a complete fool of herself—or, worse, ate all the food, she set the table with a candle and a small posy of flowers in a vase. She turned the lighting down.

She felt anxious. She’d never tried to seduce a man before.

She heard a sound and turned around—and felt winded. Dax was wearing dark trousers and a white shirt. Open at his throat. Sleeves rolled up. His hair was damp. His jaw was still stubbled. She’d had a slight burn after their kiss earlier.

Her insides clenched tight when she thought of how it had felt when his tongue had touched hers and the kiss had spiralled into a dizzying white-hot fire.

She really, really wanted to kiss him again.

She could feel the tension in the air between them. The push and pull.

She forced her mind to focus. ‘The food is ready. I can serve?’

‘I’ll get the wine.’ He looked at her with mock severity. ‘Only one glass for you.’

Laia rolled her eyes, relieved at the break in tension.

She brought the platter of seafood and some plates over to the table. At first she tried to be polite, using a knife and fork, but when she saw Dax pick up some lobster with his fingers, she gave up and joined him.

It felt thoroughly decadent, eating with her fingers, and very sensual.

The butter sauce from the lobster ran down her chin, and before she could get it Dax had leaned over and wiped it with his thumb. He looked as surprised as she felt. It had been such an automatically intimate gesture. He wiped his thumb with his napkin, and Laia’s insides tightened as she couldn’t help but imagine that he’d put it into his mouth instead.

She was losing it.

After that she avoided his eye for a bit. Mortified.

They ate in companionable silence, and after a few minutes Laia put her fork down and wiped her mouth. She took a sip of the crisp white wine, gestured to the half-decimated platter of seafood.

‘This is seriously impressive. You could probably get work as a chef if you lost everything tomorrow.’

Dax wiped his own mouth. ‘Good to know.’

‘My half-sister loves food. She’s a good cook too—she’s the one who has been teaching me.’

Dax sat back, wine glass stem between his fingers. ‘What’s she like?’

‘Well...’ Laia hesitated.

She was wary, considering both how Dax had reacted to learning about her and what was potentially happening right now between her sister and King Aristedes. She didn’t know how Dax would feel about that.

But he said, ‘Genuine question.’

Laia relaxed marginally. ‘She’s physically very like me...as you saw. Except her eyes are more hazel. And she’s curvier. And she has a gap between her front teeth.’ Laia couldn’t help smiling. ‘She’s sweet and open. There’s no agenda with Maddi. She’s quite shy. She’s a little terrified of becoming a princess. The plan is to let people know around the time of the coronation, so that’s when she’ll be officially acknowledged...’

‘Yet she jumped into the frying pan with Ari...? A ballsy move.’

‘She’s brave.’

‘And she isn’t resentful that she didn’t grow up with great privilege?’

Laia shook her head. ‘No—amazingly. But she did admit she missed not knowing our father. She’s pretty special. She’s much more open and affectionate than me. She’s quite unorthodox... Not a hippy, exactly, but she goes with the flow...’

Dax let out a little huff of laughter. ‘It sounds like Ari won’t know what’s hit him.’

Laia shifted uncomfortably, thinking of those pictures again.

Dax said, ‘She does sound like a special person. She’d have to be to not grow up with a huge chip on her shoulder after being ostracised from a life of royalty.’

Laia said, ‘The ironic thing is that I always wished for a sibling when I was growing up. I was lonely. But, as you’ve said, you were separated from Aristedes, so even if Maddi had been there, maybe I wouldn’t have seen her all that much.’ Before she could stop herself, Laia asked, ‘Do you see yourself having children?’

She noticed that Dax kept his expression carefully schooled before answering.

‘Like marriage, it’s not something I’ve ever envisaged. After my experience with my parents, who didn’t really parent at all, I can’t say it’s something I’d want to risk inflicting on my children.’

‘But Aristedes has no choice.’

‘Just like you have no choice.’

‘I had a good experience with my father. He was loving and kind and supportive. But not having had a mother... I think I’m afraid that I won’t know what to do. How to mother.’

Laia was shocked. She’d never admitted that out loud to anyone. Not even Maddi.

Dax said, ‘I don’t know much about these things, but for what it’s worth I don’t doubt that it’s an entirely instinctive process and you’d be a great mother.’

Laia blinked. Startled at the sudden welling of moisture in her eyes. She’d never in a million years have imagined this conversation with this man. She’d never expected to feel such emotion.

Her voice was husky. ‘I... Thank you. You didn’t have to say that.’

‘I don’t say things I don’t mean.’

No, he didn’t. Just as he didn’t lead women on.

He would be a good father. Laia felt it in her bones. She could almost see him with a small, sturdy toddler with dark hair, lifting him high in the air.

She stood up quickly, before any more disturbing images could pop into her head or she blurted out something else incredibly exposing. She couldn’t even blame the wine this time. She’d had hardly any.

She gathered up the plates and said brightly, ‘Coffee?’

‘I think I’ll have a digestif...a little whisky.’

Dax got up and helped clear the table, before going over to the drinks cabinet and pouring himself a measure of whisky.

Laia made coffee and went out to the deck to see if some air might help her regain some composure. There was a full moon casting a milky glow over the dark forest and the sea beyond. The lights of the fishermen shone in the distance.

She sensed Dax coming to stand near her. After that conversation Laia felt as if her skin had been peeled back to reveal a tender under-layer. She felt even more acutely aware of him, felt her blood humming under sensitive skin.

The intense heat of the day was gone, and in its place was the night-time cloak of tropical warmth. Laia turned around and rested back against the wooden railing. She looked at Dax and her heart tripped.

She said, ‘You aren’t at all what I expected.’

He turned towards her and hitched a hip onto the thick wood. ‘What did you expect?’

‘A petulant spoiled playboy with the attention span of a gnat.’

Dax made a face. ‘A little unfair.’

Laia was indignant. ‘You’ve admitted that you cultivated that reputation.’

He had the grace to look a little sheepish.

‘Except now I get the impression that you’re at a fork in the road,’ she went on. ‘You can’t keep up the playboy façade...you’ve already started to retire it. People are wondering what’s going on. What’s next for Prince Dax?’

Laia could see that he didn’t like being questioned.

He took a sip of whisky. Looked at her. ‘Maybe I’m ready to out myself as a serious businessman?’

But not a husband and father.

Before she could quiz him any more he said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you...what was going on with you that night in the club in Monte Carlo? You were on your own, lost to the world...you’d obviously stayed up past your bedtime.’

Laia felt a little jolt. The fact that he’d noticed her in that moment made her feel a little emotional.

She gave a little shrug. ‘I guess I wanted to not be me for a moment. To pretend that I was someone else. Someone without duty and obligations and every second of my life mapped out. Right down to the man I’m supposed to marry, whether I like it or not. I was fantasising that I was just a normal girl...out for the night with endless possibilities in front of me. And then I opened my eyes and there you were.’

‘You didn’t know who I was at first.’

Laia hated it that he’d noticed that. Noticed her little moment of exposure. ‘But then I did.’

‘And you realised I was the Big Bad Wolf so you ran.’

Laia looked at Dax. The man in front of her was the same man who’d been in front of her that night, but this time everything was different.

Very carefully she said, ‘I don’t want to run now.’

‘What did you say?’

But Dax had heard Laia perfectly well, and his body had heard her too. Every muscle was tense with need. His pulse was racing and his blood was hot.

She was looking at him very directly. ‘I said, I don’t want to run now.’

Dax knew he should be cutting this off, walking away, but a devil inside him made him say, ‘Why don’t you want to run?’

Her cheeks went pink, and in the midst of this heightening tension between them Dax had the urge to reach out and run his knuckles down her cheeks. He clenched his hand by his side. His other hand was tight around the glass.

He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to eat and converse like a normal person over dinner, when all he’d been aware of was that slip of a dress and how it draped forward to expose the upper slopes of Laia’s breasts every time she moved.

She’s doing this on purpose.

Dax tried to exert some control over his body. His head.

But then she stood up straight, faced him directly, and said, ‘I don’t want to run because I want you.’

Dax’s attempts to exert control dissolved in a flood of heat. He gritted his jaw. ‘I can’t deny that I want you too, Laia, but it’s not happening. That kiss was a mistake.’

‘It didn’t feel like a mistake.’

Dax moved back into the kitchen, put his glass down on the counter.

Laia followed him and put her cup down.

No, it hadn’t felt like a mistake...it had felt sweet and sinful all at once.

‘You are marrying my brother.’

Laia waved a hand. ‘Look around you. We’re thousands of miles from Santanger. Does it look like I’m marrying your brother?’

Dax clenched his jaw again. Against the temptation she posed. He had to admit that up until the kiss he’d held out some thread of hope or futile belief that she would somehow come to her senses and return to Europe.

He shook his head, as if that would rearrange his brain cells into forgetting he wanted this woman. ‘I came here to track you down for my brother. I won’t betray him.’

He could see that she looked frustrated. She said tautly, ‘Your brother and I have no relationship to betray.’

Laia’s hair had started to come undone and was falling in tendrils around her face. Her eyes were so green they reminded him of the sea around the island. Her jaw was tight. He could feel the tension in her body, as if connected to her by an invisible thread.

So far, all his little acts of rebellion had never impacted Ari. Dax had made sure of that. He’d always stayed within the bounds of acceptability.

Laia was not the rock he would perish on. She was just a woman he wanted. She was not unique.

So why does it feel like you’ve never wanted another woman? How is that you can’t even picture your last lover?

Like earlier, Dax knew he needed to put distance between them. Now.

He said, ‘I’m not having this conversation. There’s nothing to discuss.’

He turned and went towards the stairs leading up to his suite, where he intended on taking a very cold shower for a very long time. Maybe he could freeze this desire out of his body. In spite of the tropical temperatures.

He had his foot on the bottom step when Laia said from behind him, ‘It’s your fault, you know. It’s your fault I can’t marry your brother.’