Page 37 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

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...somethingbetween 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.