Princess in the Iron Mask

chapter FIVE



‘ALONE?’ LUCAS SAID, satisfied with his controlled volume as he lowered the morning newspaper to the breakfast table and sent Claudia The Look.

Dark insolent brows arched in his direction before she sipped pure orange juice between her ripe lips. A direct order from God couldn’t have stopped him from watching her slender throat convulse, her pink tongue snake out to lick the pith sticking to her perfect bow. The newspaper crumpled in his fist as heat snaked through his veins, making his pulse spike.

‘Yes, Lucas. I want to go alone.’

He cleared his throat. ‘Impossible. I will accompany you or you will not go. End of discussion.’

Keeping his paper lowered, he waited for her reaction, but the ice maiden had risen with the morning sun.

Dressed in a sharp, fitted black suit, her hair tied back punishingly into a twisted knot, she looked a world away from the dowdy lab rat of yesterday. Still, every inch of her skin was covered, the only break in the black a fawn shirt, stroking her decolletage. Satin, he mused, eyeing the way the expensive fabric rippled around her neck. Today she had an untouchable, regal aura—one he was extremely grateful for.

‘Why are you staring at me? Do I look dour this morning?’

Lucas jerked his eyes back to her face. Had he just imagined her wounded tone? With his limited experience of the female sex outside the sheets he felt unsure how to proceed. Unsure? Dios, he felt something close to panic claw down his chest. Never had he been asked to comment on a woman’s appearance.

Lucas snapped the paper shut and laid it on the table beside his empty coffee cup. ‘Not at all. I was just thinking how smart you look.’

‘Smart?’ she repeated, deadpan, tapping her pencil off her front teeth, popping the end into her mouth and nibbling it.

He shifted in his seat. ‘Sí. Appropriate for your arrival in Arunthia.’

‘I’m not there yet,’ she said, no more happy with his comment than he was.

Damn. He should have told her she was beautiful. How he itched to untie her hair, to caress her long, sultry curls.

As it was, the memory of a hard floor against his back and a walking centrefold in the cushy bed thirty feet away would haunt him for days. By four a.m. he’d done six hundred sit-ups, cleaned his gun, had three showers and interviewed the man in the white pick-up. Armande had hauled the bastard into the adjoining suite at midnight. A shifty Arunthian reporter whom Lucas had despised on sight. One who wouldn’t be returning to his home country for some time. Not as long as Claudia was there.

The reminder brought him back to her comment. She wasn’t in Arunthia. Yet.

‘Our flight is at three p.m. You have plenty of time to make your visit. Accompanied,’ he tagged on, unwilling to be moved on the point.

Tearing at a slice of wholemeal toast, she chewed with vigour and speared him with arrows of contempt.

Good. She hated him. As long as he kept that look on her face they’d make it home without another hitch. Problem was Lucas had an uneasy notion that Claudia was about to produce a hitch the size of Mount Vesuvius.

* * *

‘There is something wrong with you?’ asked Lucas, with a harshness that made Claudia’s skin bristle.

Sliding her eyes over the vast entrance of St Andrew’s Hospital, she knotted her fingers atop her lap.

What? Was he concerned that he’d have to take damaged goods through Security in Arunthia? Claudia would laugh if the chord didn’t strike through to the very heart of her. How many times had she dreamed of being perfect, being cured, just so her parents would come back for her? Days, months, years spent waiting, her naïve heart still hoping.

Throat thick, pain smashing into her forehead, she rubbed her brow with an unsteady hand. Why couldn’t she forget? Why couldn’t she just get over it and move on?

‘Claudia? Answer me!’

She turned to look at a scowling Lucas in the seat beside her, hating the instant fire in her belly just one look ignited. ‘No, Lucas, there is nothing wrong with me. Apart from the insane urge to strangle you.’ The man was driving her to Valium.

Scowl diminishing, a smile played about his lips. ‘The feeling is entirely mutual, princesa. So, tell me, why are we here?’

‘I sometimes work here and—’

He snorted, relief easing the two little lines he got when he frowned. ‘I should have known.’

‘Actually, on this occasion it isn’t about work. I was about to say I met someone here. Bailey, remember? So if you’ll excuse me—’

‘Wait,’ he said, grasping her wrist.

Whether it was the hundred volts ripping up her arm or the fact he’d touched her wrist, she wasn’t sure, but she twisted her arm, writhing from his hold. ‘Please don’t touch me there.’

Lucas instantly let go and held up his hand. ‘I would not hurt you, Claudia,’ he said, voice gruff, his brows low over intense eyes brimming with...pain? Oh, no. No!

‘Of course you wouldn’t.’ No thought, no hesitation, she reached over, lightly grazing his fist where it now curled on his hard thigh. His skin was so warm. So perfect. ‘I know that.’

‘Bueno. Good,’ he said, his chest visibly easing.

Yes, he was hard—but in a warrior-like way. Good fighting against evil.

And that one thought...the mere possibility that he might have faced evil...coupled with that one agonised look derailed her pride, her every defence. ‘I’m just really funny about my wrists. That’s all. And when...’ When you touch me I feel alive. For the first time in my life. And it scares me.

Those beautiful sapphire eyes flicked down to where her fingers still smoothed over his flesh and his hand slowly began to stiffen as if repelled.

Hurt kissed her heart and she snatched her hand back. ‘Anyway, I need to go inside.’

Lucas reached for the door handle. ‘Sí. We will go,’ he said, fierce, dominating, as if the moment had never happened.

The change in him was so swift it took her a moment to gather her wits. ‘We? No, Lucas. That’s not acceptable.’

She wouldn’t put Bailey through a meeting with a stranger. She remembered all too well the pity. The staring. The crushing silence that seemed to stretch the air so thin she could barely breathe. The powerful desire for them to leave followed by the stomach-wrenching emptiness of the room. And just as unforgettable was the palpable unease of others. It wasn’t fair on Lucas either.

‘Claudia, you are in my protection,’ he ground out.

‘For once will you stop thinking about your bloody job and give me an hour’s peace before my life is obliterated? I need to see someone. In private. Can’t you understand that?’

Lucas tore his gaze from the grim scenery and narrowed his eyes on her. ‘You feel deeply for this person?’

‘Yes. Just an hour. Please?’

The shutters slammed down over his face. ‘One hour. I will wait.’

‘Thank you.’

‘In Reception.’

‘Reception? People are sure to ask questions as soon as they clap eyes on you. You’re hardly inconspicuous.’

He shrugged those broad muscular shoulders. ‘Tough.’

‘God, you’re the most arrogant louse I’ve ever met.’ And to think she’d just told him something she’d never told another soul just to make him feel better.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she yanked her bag from the floor as the car door opened before her. And there stood Lucas.

‘How...? You know something? You’re the human equivalent of a silencer.’

He flashed her a killer half-smile. ‘One hour, Just Claudia.’

* * *

Lucas paced the reception area, his size twelves wearing holes in the thin matting, and yanked back the cuff of his jacket to check his watch. Again. One hour, seven minutes, thirty-six seconds.

Dios, he abhorred hospitals: the thick air of grief sliding down his throat, the dread, the notion that control had been handed to God and Lucas would pay the price.

Teeth bared, he let out a low growl. Where the hell was she? And who was this Bailey person? A lover? She’d intimated a female, but he knew women lied under the dense weight of desperation.

Anger swirled, black and heavy in his gut, as well as some indefinable emotion he was loath to name. The suspicion sparked a flare of unease in him. Was she safe? The shock of it suddenly engulfed him and acted like an almighty trigger.

He strode towards the curved reception desk, set like a barricade, denying all further access to the floors beyond. Her private business was no concern of his but, Dios, one hour was one hour, and if something happened to her...

After flashing a smile to the emaciated blonde, some extreme lash-fluttering, flaunting his government credentials and name-dropping his right-royal-pain-in-the-ass, she directed him to floor seven and one Bailey Michaels.

Adrenaline surged to every extremity until he felt hard—armed and ready to take on the world as he stalked towards the lift, then bypassed it for the stairs, needing to run off some excess energy, throwing open the doors to the seventh floor a minute later.

Three things happened simultaneously to punch the air from his lungs. The musical sound of children’s voices floated past his ears. The colourful images of cartoon characters painted on vast glass plates drew his eyes. And the scent of strong disinfectant speared up his nose to assault his mind.

Stomach revolting, he stiffened his abs to prevent his six-egg omelette from making a reappearance. Twenty years vanished and he was back in the halls of hell.

His hand shot out to grip the wooden ledge framing a window. His thoughts fractured. His vision blurred. Air was imprisoned in his chest. Get up, boy. I’m not done. Get the hell up! Glancing down at his hands, he grimaced as blood dripped from his fingers to splash into a dark red puddle at his feet.

Get it together, Garcia. Stand to attention. Now!

Breathe. He needed to breathe. Dragging in oxygen, he infused his spine with steel and reached for the plateau between consciousness and serenity. In and out, slow and even. His mind’s eyes gradually turned black, his heartbeat slowed, and a voice filtered through the murky haze.

‘...and then the brave dark knight took out his sword and fought the dragon with all his might. Past the castle walls, past fire and flame, through the walls of men he charged to find her. Up the stairs to the turret where she lay in a deep sleep waiting for his kiss...’

Claudia?

His eyes sprang open and Lucas scanned the hallway for the direction of her voice, moved stealthily towards an open door.

‘Oh, and she was so beautiful. With long golden hair, just like yours, and big blue eyes the colour of the Arunthian ocean...’

‘Like mine?’ a little voice asked.

‘Just like yours.’

‘No one would want to kiss me,’ came the little voice.

‘Oh, the dark knight would want a kiss. But you’d have to be older. Like the Princess. And when you’re older your eyes won’t be sore any more and your wrists will be just like mine. See?’

Lucas surveyed the small room, knowing he shouldn’t be intruding—that it was, as Claudia had said, private. And Bailey sounded very much like a young girl. Not a man. The rapid flush of relief was because she was safe, he was sure.

Claudia was perched on the edge of a small bed, blocking his view of the patient. Her jacket was gone, the sleeves of her shirt rolled high as she twisted her arm this way and that, seemingly allowing the girl to inspect her wrists. He remembered all the times she’d tugged at her clothes, and earlier when he’d grabbed her.

Stiffening his limbs, he fought the emotional throb of his body.

‘I wouldn’t want to kiss a boy anyway,’ Bailey said. ‘Clara in Bay Four said it’s like eating custard. I hate custard.’

‘Custard?’ Claudia repeated, and Lucas could hear the smile in her voice. He wished she wasn’t turned away from him so he could see the widening of her lush mouth for himself.

‘But maybe my dad would come...’

‘I know, darling,’ Claudia said softly, the affection in her voice strong, the rich, melodic tone unfamiliar to him. Yet somehow it had the power to unearth a long-buried memory and create a strange surge of longing. ‘I know,’ she repeated. ‘Look what I brought for you.’

Claudia bent from the waist, reaching into her bag on the floor, and his attention snapped to the child. Dios...

He stepped to the side in an instant, before she caught sight of him, unwilling to frighten her. His size tended to do just that and she was immensely frail. Frail? She was tiny.

‘Who’s that man, Claudia?’ the girl asked.

Damn. Lucas schooled his features, flexed his neck and relaxed his big body in an attempt to become as unthreatening as he possibly could. Then he turned to the open doorway, almost filling the narrow gap.

‘Good morning,’ he said.

The girl, Bailey, gaped openly, and Claudia shot to her feet. ‘Lucas. What are you doing here? Can’t I have one hour’s peace?’

‘Sí,’ he said. ‘Except it now happens to be one hour and twenty-three minutes.’ He turned to Bailey. ‘May I come in?’

‘No,’ Claudia said.

‘Okay,’ Bailey said.

‘Since this is your room, señorita, I shall take your answer,’ he said to the young girl, and was rewarded with a small tentative smile. One that lifted the heavy bruising from around her eyes and sent a fresh burst of emotion through his system.

Claudia fisted her small hands as if she wanted to punch him into next week, and stepped toward the bed in an entirely protective move. What the hell did she think he would do?

As he approached the bed Claudia moved closer still, practically smothering his view. And, like a warning flare illuminating the sky, light dawned. She was not only protecting the child, she was hiding her.

He tossed Claudia a quizzical look and she volleyed with a silent plea, mouthed, ‘Do not stare.’

Anger screamed through his innards, blending with affront, and he ground his jaw fiercely to prevent it pouring from his mouth. He’d always prided himself on being unreadable—he’d been trained by the best, after all—but the chastised look on Claudia’s face told him he’d failed to hide his fury in this instance. And he was inordinately pleased.

In one sweeping glance he’d gained several key pieces that made up the Princess Claudine Verbault conundrum. And when you’re older...your wrists will be just like mine...she’d said. This girl had the same condition that Claudia had suffered from in her youth. Lucas was looking at the past.

At enflamed wrists and elbows, painfully sore skin. At puffy eyes and purplish branding that spoke of bone-deep lethargy. And the way she barely moved from the bed, wincing as she tried to straighten her legs, told him she suffered serious muscle fatigue. Tiny hands tugged at the white sheet to drape over her slight frame. Hiding.

Pain banked in his chest. Through it all, the girl was very pretty, and he could see glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become. A woman who would replace the white sheet with a dour wardrobe.

Madre de Dios. His gut ached.

While he’d read brief notes on the illness, seeing it, looking at it for himself, was something else entirely. Much like visiting a bombsite—knowing the damage was already done, hoping for the best, but witnessing devastation that left soldiers numb for hours.

Clearing his thick, tight throat, he looked towards Claudia. ‘Would you like to make the introductions?’

Her deep amber eyes bored through his skull and he returned her glare, caught in that odd battle of wills that so often ensnared them. Not once had he lost the fight, and this time the stakes were gravely higher.

Soon enough she blinked, then stepped to the side. ‘Bailey, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is my friend Bailey.’

Lucas tore his gaze from Claudia, knowing full well that he shouldn’t be here. That with every passing second he was becoming more embroiled with the mysterious Arunthian Princess. It wasn’t his job to consider her past, present or her future. Getting her home was his remit. His obligation. His mission. His promise to the King.

Pausing for a second, he weighed the risk. Looked at the expectant child, the hopeful softening of Claudia’s beautiful face.

‘Buenos días, Bailey,’ he said, with a quick bow that pinked her cheeks. ‘I am honoured to meet you.’

* * *

Claudia tried to pick her jaw up off the floor and only just managed when Lucas raised one dark brow in her direction. Clearly he had no idea of the in-topics for girly conversation, because small talk slipped in a steady decline and he kept looking to Claudia for direction. And each time he did something warm and delicious unfurled inside her.

Oh, God, he was utterly wonderful. Which was great for Bailey, disastrous for her. She wanted to hate him. For barging into her life, stripping away her independence. For taking her away from Bailey and throwing her to the wolves.

He was the oddest mixture of man. Arrogant. Infuriating. Thoughtful.

‘We have to leave now, Bailey,’ she said, her heart breaking in two. ‘I won’t be able to visit for a few weeks, but I’ll be back.’

Claudia stared into her big blue eyes, willing her to believe. Because she knew exactly how she felt. One sentence—I’ll be back—had the power to plague you with excitement for hours and then crush your heart when no one came.

Bailey tried for a smile and Claudia’s throat stung under a seething fire.

‘I’ll be back. I promise,’ Claudia said, making a cross on her breast with the tip of her finger. ‘And I’ll bring you a present. The most beautiful gift you’ve ever seen. And I’ll write,’ she said, her voice laced with desperation, her hands trembling, her chest quaking. ‘We can e-mail, just like I showed you.’

Claudia grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair, silently chanting. Three weeks. Then you’ll have the money to finish what you started. You’ll be back to hold her hand every day. Just three weeks.

Blinded by the need for air, Claudia stormed down the hall and stopped dead at the double doors leading to the stairwell, opposite the gaping steel mouth of the lift. Seven flights of stairs might be nothing to Action-Man, but she didn’t have a hope of making them.

‘Claudia?’

‘Don’t speak. Don’t be nice, please.’ She’d break. She’d crumble. And no way was she doing that in front of this man.

Lucas eyed the steel box with something close to contempt and Claudia laughed. The hollow sound echoed off the green-flecked walls. He couldn’t even bear to get in the lift with her. And, my God, it hurt. Why did she persecute herself like this? Wishing, dreaming of things she could never have.

Turning, palms flat, she pushed through the double doors and begged her legs to stay strong, keep her upright.

‘Claudia, slow down.’

Step, step, step went her feet. The heavy thud of Lucas came behind her. Bearing upon her. Closing in. ‘Where do you get off, telling me what to do?’ she muttered, her breath short and raspy, her feet now pounding down the stairs.

‘Claudia, I understand—’

His voice verged on the consoling, and the hint of pity unleashed the storm raging inside her. ‘You had no right. No right coming up there!’

‘We are on a strict time limit,’ he said harshly, while the thud, thud of his shoes became louder, echoing off the walls and drubbing her temples.

Don’t you dare fall, Claudia. Don’t you dare.

‘Oh, please,’ she said. ‘You’ve just wasted twenty minutes talking. If...if time was so important to you...you would’ve ordered me out of that room instantly.’

‘Dios, Claudia, slow down. You will fall. I realise you are anxious—’

‘Anxious?’ she said, stumbling when the first flight broke for a landing and a human blur jumped from the sky and landed dead in front of her. Too close. Too close. Taking a step back, she winced as pain shot up her calf and continued to vent, ‘Do you know how many people will visit her while I’m gone? Do you?’

He said nothing, just looked at her with a grim expression that made her feel even worse. For God’s sake, he wasn’t even breathing hard. While she rasped and heaved as if she’d endured a triathlon.

‘Her mother died when Bailey fell ill and her father works on an oil rig. If she’s lucky he’ll come by once during his leave.’ More family visits than Claudia had ever had, but that was between her and her parents. ‘But why am I telling you this, Lucas? I forgot. You don’t feel, right? How can you possibly know what I feel like right now?’

Her back slapped against the wall but this time he kept his distance. Though from the lines scoring his handsome face it seemed to cost him.

‘I do not. But I can see leaving her torments you. So many things make sense to me now, but you will be back. You have other responsibilities, Claudia.’

‘Oh, Lucas, shove your royal responsibilities where the sun doesn’t shine, will you?’

He massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He did that a lot, she realised.

‘So elegant. So refined.’

‘What are you? My elocutionist? I had one of those once. The woman lasted three days.’

‘I am not surprised. I imagine you scared her off.’

‘Probably. You try being a European princess dropped in a London hospital and surrounded by children who talk of apples and pears when all you want to know is where the stairs are.’

He frowned. ‘Apples?’

‘And pears. So, you see, her version of helping was a bit like yours. Unwanted.’

Frightened, alone, she’d been drowning in a river of intolerance, bitterness towards the elite, so she’d done the only thing she could to survive. Shunned her aristocratic birthright. Not that she’d cared. She would have done anything to forget who she truly was. And now they wanted her back. A woman who didn’t exist.

‘You are hurting. If it makes you feel any better hit me. Hard. But do not give up. Courage, Claudia.’

Closing the gap, he reached up and brushed the hair from her brow, the slight scrape making her shiver. She had no idea what possessed her. Maybe it was the sympathy in his eyes—God, she hated that. But she hit him. Just once. Her small fist connected to his shoulder with a soft thump. Not even hard. Her heart wasn’t in it, she realised. It was too busy breaking.

Throat stinging, eyes shuttering, her legs gave way. And he was there, scooping her into his arms, lifting her close, laying her against his broad, muscular chest and walking down the stairs as if she weighed nothing more than a test strip. And in that moment she’d never despised herself more.

Twisting, she pushed against his chest. ‘Put me down. I don’t need you to carry me.’ She didn’t need anyone. Least of all him.

‘Be still.’ His bark reverberated off the walls. ‘And in future I suggest you give more thought to your body than your pride and take the lift when your legs ache.’

‘What are you? A telepath?’ The fight slowly drained from her body. ‘God, I hate you right now,’ she whispered, even as she laid her head against his carved shoulder. He was so strong...so annoying...so everything.

‘Bueno. That is good,’ he said, his voice dropping to a low, somewhat soothing husky rumble.

As he embraced her so tightly Claudia tried to remember if anyone had ever held her close. No. Never. Not even when she was a little girl. And it felt...wonderful.

Her body grew lax, her breathing steadied and his luxurious sandalwood scent enveloped her in a cashmere blanket. His heart thumped beneath her cheek, lulling. Claudia wrapped her arms about his neck, snuggled against him, burrowing, suddenly desperate to absorb his strength. Had she ever felt so safe in her life? It would be oh-so-easy to need him. And oh-so-stupid even to contemplate it.

On instinct she brushed her nose up the column of his throat to his unyielding jaw, the rasp of morning growth tickling the tip. A shiver racked through her core, so addictive she did it again. Blood rushed through her head, drowning out sound, but she felt his chest rumble in a little quake before he swayed slightly on his feet.

‘Claudia,’ he said, his voice tight, throaty, as if he needed a drink.

She needed something, but water was the last thing on her mind. She felt extraordinary. An incredible blend of fizzy excitement and drugging anxiousness.

Summoning the courage to lift her head, she looked up, felt his breath trickle over her face, so close. Her mouth was mere inches away from his lips. ‘Lucas?’

He had a mystifying glint in his eyes, pupils dilated, heavy. Hot. ‘Do not do that, Claudia. I cannot—’

‘Why not?’ she whispered, moving a little closer...

Then leap went her heart when, in one deft move, he sank his fingers beneath the loose twist at her nape and whisked his arm from under her thighs until she slid down his hard body onto her feet. With his free hand he brushed a stray curl from her eyes so she could see him properly, or maybe so he could see all of her. And all the while his fingers tightened in her hair, sending tides of sensation flooding down her spine in one glorious wave after another.

‘So brave,’ he said, eyes glittering like two rare sapphires.

Was it pity she could see lurking in the depths? Please, no—anything but that.

His body grew as taut as his jaw and she fancied he fought some inner battle. One she lost when he slackened his hold, sending her stomach plunging to the floor. No. Claudia grabbed a handful of his shirt to stay upright, to bring him back...

A groan tore up his throat and with one tug—oh, yes—his mouth was on hers. Soft, yet achingly hard, scorching her lips until she burst into flames.

Alive. She’d never felt so alive. Her entire body shook with an excitement so intense it blanked all thought of self-preservation.

His kiss was blatant and intense as he bowed her in a delicate arch, caged by the unyielding steel frame of his awesome body. Firm, smooth lips moved over hers, back and forth so skilfully she quickly cottoned on to his rhythm and skill, earning a wickedly thrilling growl. The touch of his tongue sliding against her lower lip, flicking to the corner, was a call to surrender and she opened for him with a high-pitched moan, laying siege to his delicious assault.

Eyes closed, fingers flaring on his shoulders, she plastered herself against him. The crush of her heavy breasts, the flick of his velvet tongue against hers, set off a chemical reaction: heat surged through her veins, the deafening rush of blood sped past her ears. A hot splash of liquid melted her core—awakening her body in a way she’d never dreamed of. Never known existed. And all she could think was more, more.

Her fingers skimmed the broad contours of his shoulders, followed the column of his neck and slid under his ears...into his hair.

Lucas groaned long and low, tightening his hold, one hand on her nape, the other still at her waist, until she felt precious, wanted.

Desired.

The seductive pull of his mouth became pure exhilaration as she felt his hands wander, as if he craved to learn her shape—curving over her hips, slinking into her waist. And when his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts...oh, my.

No fantasy had ever lived up to this. Even when she’d lain in bed the previous night, knowing Lucas was so close in the room next door, dreaming he’d kiss her awake, imagining the hard press of his weight on top of her.

As if caught in between a dream and reality she ground her pelvis against him—instinctive, wanting—and revelled in the thick hard ridge digging into her stomach. The thought of that part of him inside her drove a soft pleading moan past her lips.

Lucas stilled, his mouth fused with hers. His breath, warm and wet, slipped past her parted lips. ‘Claudia?’ Gruff, yet undoubtedly perturbed, his voice doused the flames of desire and she rocked back on her heels.

‘Dios,’ he muttered, scooping her back up against his chest. ‘I need to get you out of here.’

She said nothing, just buried her hot face in his shoulder, trying not to touch, twisting her fingers together in the deep well between her stomach and his. Her brain was in a complete state of confusion. Why had he kissed her? What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? One minute she’d been ranting like some despicable idiot and the next... Heart breaking, she’d craved a distraction—that was all. Maybe comfort. There wasn’t anything pathetic about that, was there?

Oh, God.

Any lingering warmth froze solid in her veins as he opened the door and reality closed in.

Daylight stroked her eyelids. London’s midday crush filtered through her ears and Lucas’s scent was replaced with smoggy car fumes and greasy bacon from the van permanently stationed in the hospital car park. The mingling aromas were enough to plunge her farther into reality, and her heart crumpled when she realised what she’d allowed Lucas to see. Her. Pathetic and needy. Vulnerable. The girl she’d buried long ago.

‘Are you able to stand?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ she said, sliding down his body to her feet. The sensation reminded her, made her voice hitch. ‘Thank you.’

He raked an irritable hand round the back of his neck. ‘Claudia, about what just happened...’

He averted his gaze to some place over her left shoulder. But not before she caught the glimpse of uneasy regret.

Claudia closed her eyes. It was worse than she’d thought.

Sharing a student flat at university had taught her to close her ears to wanton chatter. But she wasn’t tone deaf or completely ignorant about sex. She’d heard of a pity lay, and she guessed she’d just experienced the pity-kiss equivalent. The thought made her feel physically sick. Yes, she’d felt him, hard and amazing against her stomach, but how many times had she seen classmates hop from one bed to another regardless of attraction? Sex was sex to men, as long as it resulted in a high-octane pay-off.

‘I should not have done it,’ he bit out, anger slashing across his cheeks.

‘You’re right. You shouldn’t. Not for the reasons you did.’

His brow crunched, his mouth shaping for speech, and she couldn’t bear to hear any more excuses. This was humiliating enough.

‘Don’t worry about it, Lucas. It meant nothing, right?’ She shrugged in an attempt to lighten the mood.

‘Right.’

‘We’ll just go on like it never happened.’

Painfully aware he was starting to read her like a kindergarten book, she didn’t appreciate the way he scanned her face. The notion made her reach for a curveball and throw it out there. ‘I just thought—what the hell? I’ll try it.’

A stunned light flashed in his intense stare. ‘Qué?’

‘Kissing,’ she said, her heart lifting as she warmed to the idea. The last thing she needed was Lucas thinking she had designs on him. ‘It was better than I thought.’

He blinked.

She smiled.

‘That,’ he said, pointing back to the hospital, still blinking wide eyes, ‘was the first time you’ve been...kissed?’

‘Yes.’

It took a few seconds for him to absorb that tasty little snippit, his jaw falling off its hinges in the process. As embarrassing as never-been-kissed was to admit, it was a far better alternative to the undoubted ego-boost that she fancied the pants off him.

And then her scurrilous mind darted in yet another direction, spawning her need to be the very best. At everything.

‘So tell me, just so I know for the future, did I do it right?’

A sound spluttered from his lips—something between a cough and a growl. ‘Sí,’ he said vaguely. Too vaguely for her liking.

He was just being a gentleman. She didn’t like being under par. As a person she fed off success. On an intellectual level, that was. Until now.

She rubbed her fingertips across the plump flesh of her lips. Had she been too soft? Too hard? Too wet? Maybe she hadn’t opened her mouth enough. It had been perfectly delicious to her, but...

Oh, heavens. He was staring at her mouth.

She stilled.

His eyes shot up to hers: liquid ozone, dark and intense. ‘And was it as you’d hoped?’

Stifling a smile, she went for light, airy. ‘Oh, it was fine. Nothing like custard.’