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“This is one of the best vintages from the vineyard,” he explained, his voice rich and even. “The bottles are very…limited in number. I only open one about every five years. To celebrate. It’s only been four years, but we have plenty to celebrate.” The words he spoke made her feel as if she’d already downed the bottle.
He poured them each a glass, then offered her a seat on one of the lounge chairs. It reminded her of the last time they’d spoken on two lounge chairs back at Whitestone—only Armin was even more open this time, even more relaxed.
And the wine was delicious.
The timbre of his voice as he began to speak, the sound of it on the air, almost made up for the fact that they were separated by the tiny table and not on the same lounge chair.
“I was a boy when my father opened the first of the bottles.” Armin looked out over the gardens, lit at intervals with round globes that cast a gentle light. “It was a big deal.” He laughed gently. “I was too young to appreciate the wine, but I wanted a sip. They gave one to me. And I hated it.”
Katie laughed. She knew how that was—to want something so badly and then to be disappointed when it finally arrived.
“It was the first time I had any wine. I didn’t understand how good it could be until I was twenty.”
She basked in the warmth of his memory, but in the back of her mind, the obligation she had to Papazyan nagged at her. Katie pressed her lips together. It was this kind of moment that he wanted her to report back about—private. Unguarded.
But she pushed the thought of the editor away, letting herself enjoy these stolen moments with Prince Armin.
“I’d like to propose a toast.” He lifted his glass. She lifted hers, already blushing.
“A toast to what?” The sun had set, leaving the sky a heartbreaking shade of navy, but Katie felt like she was in the center of a spotlight.
“A toast to you.” Armin cleared his throat. “To all the good you’ve done for the girls. And for me.”
Katie could hardly breathe, much less speak.
“I’ll admit…” His voice was full of emotion. “I’ll admit that I didn’t feel I was quite suited for fatherhood. And maybe I’ll never feel like I’m doing the best job. But with you here, I feel like I have a fighting chance.”
Armin stood up and came over to her lounge chair. It was a sturdy thing—sturdy enough to hold his weight when he sat on the side of it, looking down at her with enough heat to warm the whole villa.
“Armin—” It would never work, this…thing. This tension between them. They’d always be under scrutiny. She’d always be under scrutiny. And Papazyan would never let up. Not as long as she stayed. Her pulse pounded in her ears.
“Katie.”
Her name on his lips—Katie, and not Ms. Crestley, not anything else—chased away all her worries.
He reached forward and plucked her glass from her hand, putting them both on the little table.
And then it wasn’t just her name on his lips.
It was his lips on hers, and this time, it wasn’t a stolen, fleeting moment. It was still illicit—so wrong and so right that Katie shivered at the feel of him—but out here in the dark, there was nobody to interrupt them.
Armin kissed her like a man drowning, as if exploring her tongue with his was the only thing that could save him. He leaned over her, pushing himself up higher on the lounge chair, and Katie felt herself arcing toward the hard lines of his body. His hands were on her face, then stroking along her collarbone, and lower, and a moan escaped her throat.
It was an invitation, permission, and Armin responded like he knew what she wanted.
And he did know what she wanted.
He sat up long enough to strip off his shirt, then his pants, and by the time he kissed her again Katie had dropped her skirt to the balcony next to the chair. Armin tugged her lip between his teeth as his hands dipped low again, finding the waistband of her panties, then delving further. When he discovered how wet she was he let out a hungry groan into her mouth.
He was a deliberate man. He did not allow himself to lose control. But by the time he put on a condom, he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. Katie raised her hips for him to take off her panties and then she was exposed to him, to the cool, clean air of the night.
Armin’s body was solid and muscled between her legs as he positioned himself, electric heat dancing over her skin.
He was still for one moment.
“Please,” she whispered into his ear.
“Gladly.”
