A jumbled assortment of words rose in her mind and slipped between her parted lips. “Yes. Keep going. Don’t stop.”
He obliged, maintaining a pace that was driving her crazy with no sign of flagging, his endurance and stamina obviously a match for the demands of her body.
And demanding it was. Inexperience seemed to have no effect on its sense of entitlement to the pleasure she knew only he could provide. The bonds that held them together made this her right and, overtaken as she was by the sensations it set off, she had every intention of exercising it.
“Mina, Mina, Mina...” Her name was a chanted prayer on his lips, a desperate litany dancing torturously along her nerve-endings, each utterance a lick of fire.
Tension screwed his body tight and he sped up, no longer holding back the force of his own need. She felt the edge of his control in every cell of her body, its rigid urgency weaving them even closer together, binding them toward a fall that would obliterate them both.
“Zayn...” His name on her lips was its own form of begging—a plea for him to carry them into oblivion together.
He obliged, surging into her, plunging them both over the edge, until they dissolved into twin waves, each pulsing deep inside as he emptied himself into her, every heated jet shattering them both into millions of little pieces.
Undone, Mina fell back into the plush mattress she had only just noticed. Zayn dropped to his elbows, his arms still bracketing her, his body hovering just above hers.
A laugh bubbled out of her. She doubted laughing was standard pillow-talk, but the sound had escaped before she’d had the presence to be self-conscious enough to stop it. And it felt good.
Still smiling, she looked up at him and said, “You can relax. You’re not going to crush me.”
Something like hope flashed across his gaze before he bent down to catch her lips with his. This kiss wasn’t the passionate demand of his earlier kisses. Instead it was a soft command, infused with warmth, that wrapped around her from the inside out and held her there.
When he pulled away, though, anything she thought she’d seen was gone, replaced by the charm of the practiced grin he flashed at her before collapsing on her dramatically. He rolled off quickly, then reached for her again as they settled side by side.
Still wondering at that look she’d seen in his eyes, she nestled closer to him, for the first time in her life unwilling to ask a question and risk breaking a moment in the name of curiosity.
Hints of that strange warmth were creeping back into her skin, and now that she’d seen where following sensation could lead, she wanted to follow where these took her as well.
“Are you sore?” Zayn asked.
The question had her cheeks heating, even after the experience they’d just shared. “I’m comfortable, thank you,” she said, her voice taking on a prim note she couldn’t seem to hold back.
Holding her as he was, she felt his low chuckle ripple through his entire frame. “It’s a reasonable thing to ask after a woman’s first time.”
Mina’s body flushed a hot red. “Who’s to say it was my first time?”
Laughing, he pulled her closer. “I am, Mina amora.”
“Hymen lore is mostly that—lore,” she said tartly.
“I don’t claim any expertise in the mythology,” he said, then paused before continuing in a dry voice, “But I felt yours.”
“Oh.” Well, she had tried to save her dignity.
After a long pause, he asked, “Are you embarrassed?” His voice held surprise.
Mina opened her mouth to deny it, but the automatic response seemed foolish, given the circumstances. Instead, she said, “A little. At a certain point virginity becomes a bit sad.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not. You were dedicated to something bigger.”
Something raw and jagged inside her began to knit itself together at his words, and while she wanted to think it was the result of being validated by someone other than her parents after all these years, she had a feeling it had everything to do with who was doing the validating.
Rolling over in his arms, she faced him, her head tilted to take him in. As always, his eyes locked on hers when given the opportunity, violet latching onto hazel like a missile on target. And, as always, the contact struck her, holding her frozen and breathless in its possession.
His expression lit with knowing as he held her, a naughty grin lifting the corner of his mouth as he squeezed her. “I like it. All mine.”
His voice carried a note of surprise, as if he hadn’t expected the truth of his own words, and she got the distinct impression that while it might not have been something he’d ever thought about before, he meant it now.
That realization came with its own thrill, and this time it was she who instigated their kiss, scooting up close to gently press her lips to his. He drew her tighter against his body and returned the kiss. Then, pulling them both more fully onto the bed, he turned her over so her back fit snugly against his chest, her rear end was tucked into the juncture of his hips, his arms wrapped around her.
Once they were settled, he turned the lights down and pressed a final kiss against the back of her neck. Quietly, he said, “Goodnight, Mina.”
“Goodnight, Zayn,” she whispered back, reveling in the feel of him all around her, on her lips, at her back, and deep in her core.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WASN’T THE light that woke him—not with the thick curtains that covered the windows. Neither was it a discreet knock from a member of staff. There was no staff here at the cabin. No. It was the lush weight of warm breasts resting on his forearm, the rounded curves of female anatomy pressed tight against him, and the long shapely legs intertwined with his own that transitioned him from dreams into even more pleasant reality.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up with a woman. Not since he’d been crowned. He had been with women, of course, but it just didn’t do for a parade of women to creep in and out of the King’s bedroom. His assignations were discreet, taking place in secret locations, and were more likely to include a nondisclosure agreement than a morning-after.
To make matters more unfamiliar, in this case it wasn’t merely waking up together. It was having had breakfast and dinner together the previous day. It was a feeling of true relaxation and peace that, while he’d like to chalk it up to the location, he knew had to do with the company. It was a merging of bodies that had reached inside him and stirred things up, rearranging him from the inside out without his permission or regard. It was all that and more. And with his wife of all people.
It wasn’t safe. If he’d learned anything from his parents’ example it was that. Regardless of what his father had believed, a king must never allow anything to come between him and his country. Not even his wife. Especially not his wife. They’d all seen what could happen in the aftermath of that.
And so he didn’t stay where he was, content in a way he couldn’t remember being since he’d truly understood what it meant to be the heir to the throne, nestled happily with a woman he was bound by law to love and cherish. Instead, he eased his arm free from under her neck and head, unwound his legs, and slowly pulled away from her.
She murmured in protest, but didn’t wake—not that he’d expected her to...the previous day had been enough to tax an elite soldier—and, even though he was tempted to return, to pull her close and place gentle kisses along the back of her neck until she heated and stirred, willing and ready to greet the day with him in brand-new ways, he resisted the urge. He forced himself to step away from the siren draw of the woman on the bed and search instead for the clean pants he’d discarded the night before.
Tearing his mind from her, he forced it toward the morning. They should leave the cabin immediately. Breakfast together would be far too intimate an affair after the night they’d shared. If they prepared food and sat down across fro
m each other again at that small table, just the two of them, he knew that the deep ease that existed between them would be ever-present, even in the face of what would be her inevitable new shyness.
She was his now, in a way she was no other man’s, now or ever.
The thought was more satisfying than it should be.
No, breakfast at the cabin would definitely be a bad idea. And if he felt a twinge of guilt at evading eating with her, he vowed to make up for it by ensuring she had a wonderful time on the island—including the full spa experience. But she would need something in her system before they set out on their short hike to the summer palace, and since she had made dinner, and he was in the mood to dote on her, he decided to put together a small bite to eat.
Satisfied with the plan, he executed it, putting the kettle on for Mina’s tea before tossing two croissants in the toaster. He then cut two thick slices of deli ham, a peach and some strawberries, before grabbing some soft white cheese from a plate in the refrigerator. Now all he had to do was make a cup of coffee and wait for Mina.
Twenty minutes later she came into the kitchen, quietly but without timidity, and he was impressed. He imagined her steeling herself, squaring her shoulders in that way that was becoming familiar, before walking into his sight. The corner of his lip lifted. Her hair was pulled into a high curly ponytail and she wore clothing that fit her for once, fresh hiking gear that consisted of purple leggings that hugged her hips and long legs paired with a snug fitted windbreaker in light gray.
“There’s tea,” he said, nodding toward the mug that rested on the counter as she neared. He’d noticed at breakfast the day before that she had taken tea over coffee, with two sugars and cream.
“Oh, thank you, that sounds heavenly.” The warmth of genuine pleasure filled her voice at the news, and he was glad that he’d gone ahead and prepared the tea for her, rather than wait to ask when she came down.
She took a big sip and moaned with delight and he couldn’t help but smile again—both at her hedonistic enjoyment and her ability to gulp down the steaming hot beverage without regard for the temperature.
“I see where my real value lies in this marriage,” he said.
The word “marriage” must have reminded her of the night they’d shared, because her cheeks darkened, and a dusky rose tint overlaid her golden-brown skin.
“Oh, well. Good, then...” she stuttered lightly, obviously flustered by the images flashing across her mind.
He wondered what she saw. Was it him? Was it their bodies coming together, joining in the most primal way?
Picturing her mind filled with images of their lovemaking set his own body off, his blood heating as he too recalled losing himself in her, the complete release of everything, if only momentarily—even the fact that he was King.
That last thought was enough to shake the spell.
Stepping back, he said, “We’ll have a real brunch at the summer palace. After that massages, soaking pools, salt wraps, and another massage. Think of our time here as the spa trip you missed out on.”
Mina’s eyes had lit up at the word “massages,” and he was glad that he’d made the decision. They would spend the next few days together, enjoying the island and each other, free to explore the exquisite fit of their bodies as much as the island’s beaches. And while they were doing all that he wouldn’t need to examine why he felt at peace for the first time since his father’s death.
He watched Mina finish her light breakfast, making small talk while eating himself. Once finished, he washed the dishes, as was his custom at the cabin, and they readied themselves to leave.
“The trail from here to the summer palace is a reasonable distance, but it’s easy hiking the whole way, and doesn’t take long. Its long enough to feel like you’ve accomplished something, but not so far it’s a strain.”
She grinned. “What are we waiting for? Massages are at the other end!”
And then she took off, without a backward glance. And just like that she made something as commonplace as a massage brand-new and exciting again.
Zayn followed briskly, eager for a change in scenery, though all he seemed to have eyes for was the woman in front of him.
“The summer palace is beautiful.”
The words were out before he’d thought about them, an unconscious attempt to solicit one of her golden smiles.
She turned to him, a spark of interest brightening her eye. “I can’t wait to see it. D’Tierrza said you spent a lot of time there, growing up?”
He nodded, remembering those days of running wild at the summer palace hiding away from the public eye. “I did. It gave us a chance to be normal.”
Mina surprised him by laughing. “Normal children don’t have private islands—but I understand what you mean. As normal as possible for a prince.”
He smiled, giving in to the urge to touch her, caressing the back of the hand nearest him with a finger as he said, “You don’t have much sympathy for your Prince.”
Her cheeks darkened, but she didn’t move her hand. “It’s not good to be too sympathetic toward powerful people—it inflates their egos.”
Not bothering to fight the wicked spark her words lit in him, he leaned closer, his lips near her ear and his voice low as he said, “It’s so good for me that I have you to take care of my...ego.”
Before his eyes, the slight darkening of Mina’s cheeks blossomed into a full-bodied blush. As close as they stood, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. He was leaning in to take her lips before he knew what he was doing, capturing their plump fullness before the warning to keep her at a distance could go off.
She leaned into him without hesitation, opening her mouth to what was becoming the familiar dance of their lips meeting.
He took what she offered without hesitation, reveling in the sensation of freedom she brought him: freedom to take, freedom to plunder his sweet prize without regard for propriety and decorum, freedom to unleash the force of his unvarnished personality and know that she not only had the full capacity to handle it, but would meet him with her own passion and intensity.
She returned his kiss with a new boldness. Her body was coming to understand the power it held over him even if her mind, new to the back and forth between a man and a woman, had yet to grasp it.
She made him forget himself each and every time, over and over, and he had the distinct impression that the experience would only continue—no matter how many times he came to the well, he would leave thirsting for more. She was dangerous, but he didn’t pull away from their kiss. He couldn’t.
When he did finally pull back, he looked at her, beautiful green eyes still closed, her face glowing and bright, and he locked the image tight in his mind, storing it.
She opened her eyes then, and they glittered like polished gems. He couldn’t look away...entranced like a dragon with its hoard.
Less than an hour later they once again left the forest to enter a clearing—this one even more massive than the last. It opened into a large secluded bay, with a gorgeous dark brown sandy beach, arched cliffs, and there, like a bright white beacon, standing proud and timeless, was the summer palace.
Dashing into the clearing to take in the stunning structure, Mina gasped loudly.
Her reaction brought a smile to his face. The summer palace had that effect on people.
His ancestors had had a thing for white marble, and it showed nowhere more than here at the summer palace. Embedded into the landscape, the building incorporated both the forested hill and the natural cliffside, with thick rounded columns, open-air patios, and breathtaking views all the way around. Inside, the palace was completely modernized, boasting every convenience and then some, and was powered entirely by renewable energy.
She was going to love it here—he knew it. It was impossible not to.
Palace staff greeted them at the stairs, and h
e quickly reassured them of their health and safety, as well as calling for brunch. They had both worked up an appetite after their morning hike.
Like everything at the summer palace, brunch was both elaborate and relaxed. Spread across a long table, the menu included island classics—olives, fresh cheese, bread, and pâté—as well as delicious flavors from farther afield, like coconut pudding, kheer, fresh mango, pineapple, and starfruit.
Eyeing the food, Mina sat regally in the chair that had been pulled out for her, though he was sure she didn’t realize it. He doubted that she would believe anything she did was regal.
A frown came to his face at the thought. Her self-doubt was, in part, his fault. Which was unfortunate. Freed from her academic disguise, she was truly lovely. Her mind was exacting, and yet she was humble. She had withstood shock, devastation and, if he were being honest, mild humiliation with grace and those squared shoulders of hers. If only she had the ability to hide everything she was feeling, she might have the makings of an excellent queen.
They dined al fresco, on a patio overlooking the island’s small bay, falling into what was quickly becoming a pattern of easy conversation.
“That water in the bay looks divine,” she said, and sighed, closing her eyes.
He smiled. “It’s warm, too.”
“I’m definitely swimming. Or not...” Words that had started high ended low.
“Why not?”
“My swimsuit is back at the plane.”
Zayn shook his head, laughing. “There’s probably a selection for you to choose from in your closet.”
It only took her a moment to recover from being taken aback this time. A sign she was adjusting to royal life. That was good.
“It’s odd to think of it as being mine.”
She still needed to work on that earnest forthrightness, though. Otherwise, sooner or later, she’d be skewered. The thought irritated him.
“Well, I’m sure it will sink in eventually.”
The words came out sharper than he’d intended, but she merely glanced at him before turning back to the view, and he was glad. Let her focus on relaxing. She didn’t need to know she was tying him up in knots.
Stolen To Wear His Crown (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Royal Guard, Book 1) Page 12
