Swept Off Her Feet by Camille Anthony

opened her senses to the experience, wanting to indulge in everything he did to her.
    The stubborn streak embedded in her core would not allow the total escape she sought in his arms. Even now her inner voice screamed, telling her she should not allow the prince to think she had given in to his heavy-handed seduction. Regretfully, she struggled to pry her lips apart from his searing kisses. Placing a hand between their mouths, she quickly composed a salve for her pride.
    “Don’t think my reaction a tribute to your skill. You take advantage of the fact that I am in pava and not likely to resist even you. As horny as I am, any warm male body would illicit the same reactions.”
    While she spoke, he had been attempting to reclaim her mouth. Now, he paused, a fierce frown distorting his devilishly handsome face. A frown that gradually gave way to a knowing smile.
    Shaking his head at her, he pulled back just enough to brush his chest against the towel covering the aching points of her distended nipples.
    “I am not misinformed by your words, fem. I refuse to be upset by your insult. I know you but seek a way to deny your feelings for me,” he growled, moving his lower body in a way that rekindled her flaming passion.
    “The exchange of pheromones triggers Rb’qarmshi arousal. Without them, we could not take this first step in joining. The smell of your flowering has triggered my own scent, to which you are reacting.
    “The joining has begun. The taste of me makes you hungrier. You want my tongue in your mouth.”
    She gasped, outraged at his words. “I have never heard a more arrogant statement!”
    “I am not arrogant where you are concerned, fem. In fact, I am humbled. I have been ready for you since you danced in your cleaning room. My heart trembled as I smelled your spilled juices.” He nudged closer to her, rubbing himself against her like a big, cuddly teddy bear.
    She’d had a teddy bear. Hugging it had never caused her to react like she did now. Her breasts drew taut; her nipples stiffened and tented the towel, long and jutting. She shivered when he brushed the tips with his thumbs.
    “You fool only yourself with this talk of responding to anyone. My vow…once I seat your nipples, complete our mating, you will no longer make such statements.” His broad masculine hand rubbed intimately across the naked expanse of her hip. One long thick finger caressed the slightly raised mark of her royal birth.
    When had he gotten his hands beneath her towel?
    Shocked free of the dark allure of his sinfully arousing touch, she scrambled to regain control of her self-will. She railed at herself, aghast at his ability to bewitch her to the point where she lost all sense.
    What’s wrong with me? Where is my sense of decency? How does he make me forget the rules of behavior Mom Brewster painstakingly instilled? Why am I allowing a man I don’t even know to make a docile meal of me? After all, I was never tempted or driven to give in to my sexual desires during my last pava—never like this!
    But if he’s telling the truth, I felt no desire for human males because they gave off no pheromones. What do I feel for him, then? Is it the beginning of love or do I desire him only because we’ve begun this joining-thing?
    She shook her head. At the moment, none of that mattered.
    Regardless of how I feel, how much I want this man, I refuse to be my father’s puppet. Let him play his games of empire and dominance if he will. But until I can meet with father face-to-face and get some answers, this mating is so not going to happen.
    Her mind made up, she sought a way to bank her passion, which didn’t prove easy. While she had been thinking, his hands had been caressing her hips, running possessively up and down her flank. His lips had been nibbling her ear and pressing hot kisses into the crease of her neck. She had to find a way to deflect his attention and, at the same time, escape his clutches.
    She decided upon