Page 12 of Summer on the Ranch (Royally Wed #1)

M itch couldn’t believe that the incredibly beautiful, incredibly royal Princess Alexandra had just issued an invitation for him to kiss her.

He was many things, but he wasn’t a man to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her even closer, until their bodies touched from shoulder to thigh.

She was tall and slender, yet curvy. He could feel her breasts flattening against his chest in a way that would keep him hard for days.

Soft curls framed her face, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to hers was her expression of startled desire.

He half expected her to pull away and stop things before they had much of a chance to begin.

But she didn’t. Instead, she stayed very still as he moved his lips against hers.

She smelled sweet and womanly. Her lips were soft and yielding, and when she shuddered slightly in his embrace, it was all he could do not to plunge his tongue inside her mouth and tease her until she was breathless.

He’d expected the wanting, and it didn’t disappoint him.

The tension in his body increased as blood pumped hotter and faster.

His groin ached. Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and parted her mouth.

Two small acts that shouldn’t have meant a damn thing, except maybe that she didn’t dislike him kissing her.

But her acceptance and her invitation combined to ignite a fire inside of him he’d never felt before.

Desire, need, hunger—whatever it was called—slammed into him and through him, leaving him gasping for air.

Instead of just wanting to deepen the kiss, he found himself wanting to shove her up against a wall and do it with them both standing up.

He’d been blindsided, and he didn’t even know what had hit him.

Worse, he hadn’t even really kissed her.

But even as he gently stroked her lower lip with his tongue, then slipped inside her mouth, he knew how it was going to be.

Pure perfection brought on by a combination of chemistry, timing and maybe some dumb luck thrown in for good measure.

This was more than getting turned on, he thought in shock.

This was a summer thunderstorm, all heat and light and sweet darkness.

He wanted to get lost inside of Alex and never find his way out.

As he touched his tongue to hers, he felt the fire lick across his skin.

She tasted right, she felt right in his arms. Her body, oh, Lord, what she was doing to him.

And she wasn’t even trying. She was just standing there, her arms wrapped around his neck.

What would happen if she actually touched him?

He got harder at the thought, harder and more aroused.

He tried telling himself it was just a kiss, but that was sort of like calling the Grand Canyon just a hole in the ground.

* * *

Alex found it difficult to breathe. At first she’d encouraged Mitch to kiss her because, well, no one had wanted to in a long time.

He was a decent man. Good-looking, hardworking and honest. He made her laugh.

Best of all, he didn’t treat her as though she was different.

Around Mitch she could occasionally forget she was a princess and instead pretend to be just a regular woman.

Besides, when he’d looked at her with something she nearly dared to call desire, he’d made her insides go all squishy.

So she’d allowed herself to cross the line just a little and kiss him.

But this wasn’t a kiss, she thought hazily as large, strong male hands stroked up and down her back.

She’d been kissed a few times in the past, and those embraces had been nothing like this.

She remembered feeling pleasantly aroused and warm and even a little wicked.

But in Mitch’s arms, she found herself practically squirming.

Her legs trembled, her breasts ached, and she could feel her panties getting wet.

Worse, she wanted to rub herself against him like a cat. She wanted him to touch her…everywhere.

He plunged inside her mouth again. She circled around him, tasting him, caressing him, holding back the moan of pleasure that formed at the back of her throat. She wanted this. She wanted more.

When his hands dropped to her rear, she gasped. He squeezed her curves and drew her closer. Her belly pressed against something hard. His…his… Oh, my.

Alex drew back and stared at him. In all her twenty-nine years she’d never made love before.

She’d known that she would have to make a political marriage for the sake of her country and she’d always thought it was important for her to save herself for her future husband.

None of the men she’d ever dated had pushed for intimacy, and she’d found it surprisingly easy to avoid sexual entanglements.

In fact, she’d never seen a naked man or felt an erection, even through clothing.

Mitch didn’t seem to notice her surprise, or her withdrawal.

He cupped her face in his large, competent hands and stared at her.

‘‘You’re so beautiful,’’ he murmured. ‘‘And one amazing kisser.’’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

‘‘I’m impressed, princess. You’ve got me all hot and bothered. ’’

He pressed his mouth to her forehead, then her nose, her cheeks and finally trailed damp kisses down her neck.

Shivers rippled through her. She could only cling to him and pray that he would never stop what he was doing.

How could she, an inexperienced, sexually unaware woman, have turned on someone like him?

The thought thrilled her and gave her a sense of feminine power that she’d never before experienced.

She tested her newfound ability by touching his chin and drawing his mouth back to hers. ‘‘Tell me about being hot and bothered,’’ she murmured.

He swore under his breath, right before he claimed her mouth.

This time when he hauled her up against him there was no mistaking his need.

It flexed against her belly in a way that made her thighs start to melt.

She wanted him. She, Princess Alexandra of Wynborough, actually wanted to make love with a man so desperately she didn’t care about anything else.

She wanted to throw caution to the wind and experience what it was most other women took for granted.

She wanted to be naked and vulnerable and—

Reality crashed in on Alex. For one brief second she saw herself as if she were an observer of the situation instead of a participant.

She saw herself as if this moment had been captured by a tabloid photographer and plastered across every newspaper in the world.

Despite her desire, despite how much she liked Mitch, she wasn’t a regular woman and this wasn’t a normal situation.

She broke away from him. ‘‘I can’t,’’ she whispered. Even though she wanted to. Perhaps even because she wanted to. She looked at Mitch. ‘‘It’s not you, it’s me.’’

She thought he might protest or ask for an explanation. Instead, she read understanding in his eyes. ‘‘I’m sorry,’’ he said. ‘‘I shouldn’t have—’’

‘‘Don’t apologize,’’ she told him. ‘‘I’m glad we…’’ She made a vague gesture with her hand. Then she shrugged. ‘‘I just can’t.’’

They stood less than a foot apart, staring at each other. The silence turned awkward, and when she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him, Alex walked out of the room.

* * *

Shortly after three in the morning, Alex gave up trying to sleep.

She figured she might as well get started on her day.

But instead of getting up and dressing, she found herself reliving the magic of Mitch’s kiss.

For the thousandth time. She closed her eyes and imagined herself back in his arms. She could inhale his scent, taste his sweetness on her tongue and, most amazing of all, she could feel his need pressing against her.

When she found herself squirming in bed, she opened her eyes and sat up.

What was it about his kisses that had made such an impact on her?

Why him and why not some other man? Was it their circumstances and the fact that they’d been thrown together?

Was it some chemical thing? A combination of hormones and timing?

Was it that he saw her as a woman rather than a princess?

‘‘It doesn’t matter,’’ she said aloud into the darkness.

For some reason, kissing Mitch had been different from kissing other men.

While the news was potentially interesting, it didn’t have to mean anything.

It had been one kiss, or at least one series of kisses.

No harm had been done. She was in Arizona, trying to find out about her long-lost brother.

Mitch had been a momentary distraction. They had kissed.

Now they simply had to put the experience behind them.

She flopped back on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.

Except she couldn’t stop thinking about what they’d done.

Even as she gave herself the lecture about being sensible, half her brain was caught up in the memory of his hands touching her rear.

She stifled a giggle. No man had ever touched her there, yet Mitch hadn’t even hesitated.

He’d just reached down and squeezed. If she hadn’t stopped him, he might have touched her in other, more interesting places.

Instead of the thought appalling her, she found herself wondering what it would have felt like. Would he have taken her dress off? Would he have touched her breasts? The image left her breathless.

‘‘Stop being a fool,’’ she told herself, trying to be stern. ‘‘He’s not for you.’’

And he wasn’t. The thing was, she’d never really thought of herself as the passionate type. Except, in Mitch’s arms she’d certainly been passionate and willing. So what was different? Was it him? Or her? Or both?