Page 19 of Twins For His Majesty (Royally Tempted #1)

T HEY SHARED brEAKFAST at an intimate café with views of the water and a small but excellent menu.

Phoebe had woken starving and chose a magdalena as well as a frittata, washed down with a glass of orange juice.

Afterwards, they walked the main street together.

Phoebe glanced in shop windows at first, but as they walked, side by side without touching, she became more and more aware of the attention they were drawing.

Not just the handful of photographers Octavio had suggested might be lurking but also regular tourists, all armed with their cell phones, taking photographs and videos and no doubt sharing them online.

It had been a beautiful start to the day, but Phoebe’s patience quickly wore thin.

‘Shall we get back to the villa?’ he asked, as if reading her mind.

She glanced at him gratefully. ‘Yeah. I’d like that.’

They drove most of the way in silence, Phoebe frowning a little as she lost herself in thought. After a while though, she turned to face him. ‘Do you really get used to it?’

‘For the most part.’

‘Does that happen often?’

‘Pretty much everywhere I go.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s just so invasive.’

‘Mostly it comes from a good place. People are curious about my life.’

‘Because you’re a king?’

‘And because my parents died when I was so young. I was orphaned. There was a lot of sympathy for me.’

She reached across, putting her hand on his knee in a gesture of comfort. She didn’t say anything—she didn’t need to. They’d discussed grief and loss; he knew how she felt. He knew she was sorry for anyone to suffer in that way.

As they approached, the gates swung open to allow his car to pass through them, and Phoebe expelled a sigh of relief. ‘The town is beautiful but I like it here better.’

‘I should have known. It’s too soon.’ He reached across, stroked her cheek as though he couldn’t help himself. ‘On the other hand, it will further sell our story as being legitimate.’

Phoebe’s eyes widened. Was that what breakfast had been about? Had it all been for show? To display her around town, so the press could get images and feed the public’s insatiable appetite for news on the royal couple?

She bit back a groan. Hadn’t she just been telling herself that so long as she remembered , everything would be fine?

And instead she’d been swept up in how decent he’d been behaving, treating her like a normal person.

She’d forgotten that he was tactical, always thinking about his kingdom, his duties, treating her as anything but a whole, normal person that mattered.

She put her hand on the door the moment he parked, and opened it gratefully, stepping outside and breathing in, trying to anchor herself firmly to reality.

But here, in this beautiful place, everything inside of her seemed to be shifting and changing, making it hard to know what she felt and wanted.

He walked closely behind her, and when they were inside he said, ‘I’m going to catch up on some work.

Take a look around—there’s a well-stocked library, a media room with all the streaming services, a gym.

Do whatever you want. Just—be careful.’ His eyes dropped to her stomach.

As if she needed any further reminders that this was all just about the babies!

He resisted the urge—but only just—to lock the door to his office.

He’d come so close to reaching out and touching her stomach again, to touching her , to drawing her close to him and asking if he could kiss her.

He’d wanted to drag her against his body all morning.

In town, their hands had brushed as they’d walked.

Such an innocent gesture, and yet it had been almost incendiary to Octavio, who felt as though he was burning up with desire for his wife.

But she’d made it obvious she didn’t want that. Even when on one level she did, she was determined to avoid it—and him. And he had to respect that. So he buried his head in his work, surprised to find it was mid-afternoon before he looked up and wondered where Phoebe was.

He strode from the office, telling himself he was looking for a late lunch rather than his bride, but when he couldn’t immediately see her in the house, worry began to curdle in his gut. He quickened his pace and stepped out onto the terrace, scanning the ocean. No Phoebe.

The property was completely secure; she couldn’t be anywhere else.

But knowing that didn’t lead him to feel any calmer.

He checked the house again and this time, found her.

Asleep. No wonder she hadn’t responded when he’d called her name.

She’d drifted off on a sun lounger on the back deck, mercifully in the shade thrown by a nearby tree.

She wore a singlet top and shorts, so her golden legs were on display, crossed at the ankle, and her breasts shifted with each gentle breath.

He stood staring at her, his nostrils flaring, his temperature rising, his hands balling into fists as he remembered what it had been like to make love to her, to know her body as intimately as he’d ever known anyone.

He didn’t make a sound, and yet she shifted, sighed, pressing her hand to her stomach, then blinking up at him.

Her lips shaped into a smile, full and generous and attributable only to the fact she was still half dreaming.

‘What time is it?’ she asked, groggily, sitting up and looking around.

‘Just after three.’

She blinked. ‘I’ve been asleep for hours.’

‘Yesterday was a big day.’

She pulled a face. ‘Yeah.’

He wondered at the pulling in the centre of his chest, the slightly painful stitching sensation. ‘Did you enjoy any of it, Phoebe?’

Her eyes widened. ‘It…wasn’t about enjoyment. It’s something we had to do, right?’

He should have been glad to hear her speak so pragmatically. It was exactly what he wanted his bride to feel—and to understand he felt. But Phoebe deserved more after everything she’d already been through.

‘It was an experience I’ll never forget,’ she elaborated. ‘That beautiful tiara—what an honour to have worn it.’

He moved to sit on the edge of the sun lounger. There wasn’t much space, so it brought them close together and Phoebe’s breath hitched in her throat.

‘And the dress was really nice, too. That was amazing how Marie was able to organise it so quickly. I had no idea that could be done. And I loved meeting Xiomara. She’s lovely.’

Phoebe was babbling. In a very un-Phoebe manner.

Phoebe was nervous.

Because of him. Nervous good? Nervous bad? Nervous because she couldn’t stop thinking about how much she wanted him?

‘And the food was great. I loved it. My mum tried to make Castilonian food often, but she never quite got it right. It was—’

‘Phoebe,’ he interrupted, hearing the surrender in his tone and not caring. ‘I want to kiss you.’

Phoebe’s lips parted, her concentration visibly wavered, her gaze falling to his mouth. Everything inside of him tightened in anticipation. He’d vowed to wait until she asked, until she begged, but here he was, begging. Needing. Wanting so much it hurt.

He moved forward a little, his body flushed with heat.

In the back of his mind, he heard the warning voice.

The reminder that the more he wanted someone or something, the smarter it was to back away.

It was how he’d lived his life—having had any affection withdrawn from him once his parents died, he’d naturally developed a coping mechanism that had him avoid relying on anyone. Needing anyone.

But sex was different. It was something his body felt and wanted, not his head nor heart. And Phoebe couldn’t hurt his body.

Except, hadn’t the last month and a half hurt him? Physically, at least? He’d barely slept that first month…

Don’t do this.

The wise counsel in his mind should have been obeyed, but Octavio was too far gone to care. It wouldn’t last. That was his sole consolation. At some point, the sexual infatuation would burn out, and everything would be normal again.

And it was an infatuation, the kind Octavio had never known. But he’d heard about it. He knew it wasn’t rare or unusual. It was just a phase between two people who happened to have a certain chemistry.

He paused, close enough to her lips to kiss her, but doing no such thing.

Not until she said something. Anything. He’d kissed her before without her issuing a verbal invitation, but this was different.

He needed her to admit she wanted him as well.

He was out on a limb and didn’t want to be the only one.

Perhaps he also wanted to demonstrate to himself that he was still in control.

He wanted her but he wasn’t lost to her.

Phoebe didn’t say anything though. Instead, she closed the rest of the distance between them and claimed his mouth with her own, melding them in a way that made him—and her—moan in awareness and completion.

It was the kiss he’d wanted to give her on their wedding day, the kiss that should have sealed their marriage ceremony.

It was a kiss that lit every part of him on fire, igniting deep in his soul.

Her body was warm from the sun. He felt it as he pressed himself against her, the sweet roundness of her stomach, her beautiful breasts, he kissed her until she was writhing beneath him and the word please was flicking into his mouth like the tail-end of a whip, mesmerising him, calling to him, weakening any thoughts he’d had of restraint, any idea that this could just be a kiss.