by Jane Porter
He was so hard and warm and his body felt amazing against hers. She pressed herself to him, rubbed like a cat against him. “You feel so good.”
He was gritting his teeth, strain evident on his face. “Can’t do this here. Won’t. It’d feel wrong in my mother’s room.”
“Then let me come to yours.”
He gazed down into her eyes. “You’re serious?”
She nodded. “I want this. I want you.”
“Wait one hour. Cool down. Think it through. Because once we do this, once we make love, there’s no going back.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
HANNAH entered the King’s Bedchamber wearing a black coat over her nightgown and black velvet slippers on her feet. She tried to act nonchalant as she walked through the bedroom door even though butterflies were flitting wildly in her middle, making her heart beat too fast.
She saw Zale immediately, barefoot at the far end of the ornate chamber and her stomach flipped all over again. He’d shed his dark jacket, and had unbuttoned his white shirt at the collar and rolled the crisp sleeves back on his tan forearms.
“Brave girl,” Zale said from the far end of the chamber where he stood before one of two gold marble fireplaces anchoring the room, and it was a magnificent room, the high ceiling covered in rich paneled wood and Flemish tapestries hung on the dark paneled walls.
But nothing was more awe-inspiring than the enormous canopied bed that dominated the room. The bed was huge, bigger than an American king-size—obviously designed for true nobility.
Gold and brilliant blue fabric draped the numerous windows, warming the chamber and shutting out the night while thick blue velvet lined in gold hung from the bed frame, creating an intimate cocoon inside.
“You’re here,” he said, hands on his hips, studying her from beneath lowered lashes.
Not so brave, she thought, feeling as if she’d entered the lion’s lair, with the lights dimmed and the bed prepared for seduction.
Hannah glanced once again at the immense bed, seeing how the brocade coverlet had been turned down, revealing pristine white sheets and pillows. For centuries powerful kings had slept, dreamed and prayed there. And soon she’d be in it, too.
She licked impossibly dry lips. “I am.”
“And you’ve carefully thought this through?” His eyes met hers and held.
The room glowed in the soft candlelight, creating dancing shadows and Hannah plunged her hands into the deep pockets of her coat, self-conscious that Zale was still dressed and she had nothing on underneath her coat but the thin nightgown.
“I have.”
His lips curved and he began to unbutton the rest of the buttons on his crisp white dress shirt one at a time. “Then why stand so far away?”
But her feet wouldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, mesmerized by his long, lean fingers unfastening the small buttons on his shirt.
Was he really undressing before her?
Was she really going to do this? Then he shrugged out of the shirt, revealing bronzed skin over dense, sinewy muscle, and her mind went blank.
God, he was beautiful.
With perfect aim he tossed the shirt onto the back of a nearby chair. “Second thoughts?”
She shook her head, touched her tongue to her lips again.
“No.”
“Then come.” He curled a finger, beckoning her, thick bicep curving.
He had an amazing body, an athlete’s body with broad shoulders, deep chest and hard flat abs that tapered to narrow muscular hips, a body that had taken years to develop.
“Come,” he repeated. “I’m hungry for you.”
Hannah shivered at the rough urgency of his voice and the sexy command, Come. I’m hungry for you.
For a moment her conscience shrieked a protest, and then she silenced it. She needed him. Needed this.
It’d been forever since she’d been wanted, forever since anyone had touched her, loved her. And it was hard to pretend she never needed anything, much less love.
Not that this would be love.
But it’d be something. Zale liked her. Wanted her. And for tonight that was enough.
Hannah walked toward him. She felt his gaze travel over her face and down her body as she closed the gap between him, her breasts growing heavier and more sensitive with every step until she stood before him. He was tall, very tall, and muscular, and overwhelmingly male.
He reached out and unknotted the sash on her trench coat and discarded it. And then watching her from beneath heavy lids, he pushed the coat back from her slim shoulders and let it fall. His gaze dropped to the daring décolleté of her satin gown, the ivory fabric molded to her rounded breasts. Her nipples strained against the satin cups, the darker areola visible through the fabric.
“You are without doubt the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
His voice was deep, rough with desire and she warmed all over, senses coming to life.
“Beauty isn’t everything,” she murmured.
A small muscle pulled at his jaw. “You’re right.” He ran the back of his fingers across her soft cheek. “So what does matter, Emmeline?”
She stared up into his face, seeing emotion darken his eyes and tighten his strong, handsome features. Tension rippled through him. “You. Me. Us.”
His gaze dropped to rest on her mouth, his dense black lashes fanning his high cheekbones. “So you know I’m now playing for keeps.”
Her cheeks burned, her body felt feverish. She cared about nothing right now but him, this. The future wasn’t hers to have. All she had was tonight. All she had was now. “Good.”
She took a step closer to Zale and placed her hands on his chest, slowly sliding her palms over the smooth, hard plane of muscle there.
“Make me forget everything,” she whispered, voice breaking, as she lifted her mouth to his. “Make me forget everything but you.”
Zale slid the straps of her nightgown down over her arms until it fell off her, pooling in a puddle of ivory silk at her feet.
He stood back and looked her over as the fire crackled and burned, light flickering over her, highlighting her curves before slowly drawing her into his arms.
He kissed her as if she tasted like wine and honey, his lips parting hers, his tongue probing her mouth and then teasing her tongue before sucking on it.
She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck, but even then she felt as if she couldn’t get close enough. She wanted more of him, wanted all of him, and she welcomed his hard chest crushing her breasts and the cool buckle of his belt grazing her naked belly.
“Want you,” he said thickly.
She nodded and reached for his belt, unfastening the buckle, and then the button on his trousers and finally the zipper.
But before she could tug at his trousers he broke away, leaned over to remove his shoes, socks and then the pants fell, leaving just his snug briefs that barely contained him.
She found herself staring wide-eyed as he peeled the briefs away and he sprung free, very large, very hard and very erect. This king came well-equipped, she thought breathlessly, feeling a pinch of panic as it had been a long time since she’d done this and he looked maybe too big.
“You look nervous,” he said.
Her head spun and she moistened her lips. “I am.”
“Why?”
“You’re … big. Not sure how this will work.” “Don’t worry. I know how.”
She heard the wicked note in his voice as well as the hint of something else, something that sounded like tenderness.
He took her hand, and tugged, drawing her to the carpet in front of the fire.
She glanced at the fire. “Not the bed?” Her voice wobbled with a fit of nerves. It’d been four years since she made love. Four years before she’d been intimate like this and suddenly she wasn’t sure she could do it.
He pressed her gently back onto the carpet, and stretched out next to her, running his hand from her waist, over her ribs, across a ful
l breast and down again. “Love your breasts,” he murmured. “They’re absolutely perfect.”
He stroked her up and down again, his fingers each time brushing lower across her belly until he was caressing the top of her thigh to collarbone and back. She stirred restlessly beneath his hand, arching helplessly as he brushed her curls between her thighs.
“Beautiful,” he said under his breath, moving over her, his mouth claiming hers, his weight braced on his arms.
He kissed her deeply, hands still caressing as his knees parted her own. He held her knees apart and then he shifted his weight, turning to press his mouth to her flat belly, his tongue flicking her navel and then lower, his lips brushing across her soft inner thighs and then the softer folds.
She groaned and clenched her hands at her sides, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure.
Zale’s tongue traced her tender lips then stroked the tip of his tongue across her tight, engorged clitoris.
She bucked against him when he did it again.
Holding her hips securely, he licked and sucked her wet pink flesh, devoting excruciating attention to her.
Panting, Hannah fought against the hot, sharp sensation building inside her. She’d never done this before, had never been intimate this way with anyone.
But the more she resisted the pressure, the more intense it became. “No,” she choked, shaking her head, her legs trembling violently.
“Come on,” he said hoarsely. “Come for me.”
She heard him, and she knew what he wanted but she didn’t think she could it do, didn’t think she could just let go, but when he slipped a finger inside her as he sucked, she shattered against his mouth, screaming his name. For an endless moment Hannah tumbled blindly, wildly through time and space, sensations too intense, her body beyond her control.
She was exhausted after, her body tingling and sensitive. She felt utterly spent, and didn’t think she could ever want anything again, but when Zale moved over her, and drew a nipple into his mouth, lathing it with attention, fresh desire coiled inside her belly, making her want him again.
He shifted between her thighs but he didn’t enter her right away. Instead he sucked and nipped on one pert nipple and then the other, making her grind her hips up against his.
It wasn’t long before she was straining against him, desperate to be filled. “Zale.” She groaned his name, feeling the thick tip of his shaft brush against her wetness. “Please.”
He entered her with a deep, slow thrust and air caught in Hannah’s throat. Even though her body was slick and ready for him, he was still big, still stretched her.
She struggled to catch her breath, wanting to relax, wanting it to be comfortable. He eased out and then moved forward again, sliding deeper this time. Again and again he withdrew only to return, deeper, harder and all of a sudden the tension turned to stunning pleasure. She wanted more, wanted him to keep thrusting, craving that intense sensation that told her she was on her way to another orgasm.
“More,” she panted, hot, flushed, skin growing damp.
“More.”
His gaze found hers, held as he quickened his tempo, driving deep into her. She was breathing in little gasps now, shallow breaths as the pleasure built, tighter, sharper, the peak of the climax just out of reach.
“Come,” he said, dropping his head to kiss her, and frantically she drew his tongue into her mouth even as he filled her all the way, his body possessing her completely. And just when she thought she couldn’t come, that it was too elusive this time, she did, breaking, crashing, her world spinning out of control as she cried his name, again, in pleasure so intense it felt almost like pain.
He came then, in a last deep thrust, his body rigid, muscles tense. She felt his release, felt him shudder from the power of it, and then she sighed, and sagged against the carpet, spent.
After a moment he withdrew from her and rested next to her for a few minutes, his arm holding her close to his side. And then as the fire burned low, he scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the massive bed where he slid her between soft white sheets.
“Sleep,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her face and kissing her forehead and then her nose and finally her lips. “You need your rest.”
She murmured agreement, snuggling into the impossibly soft pillow and smooth, cool sheets that felt so good against her heated skin. “Will you sleep, too?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
An hour later, Zale lay on his back in bed listening to Emmeline’s soft even breathing. He’d told her he would sleep. He wished he could sleep. Instead his mind raced.
Making love to Emmeline tonight changed everything. They were committed now. As good as married.
He’d thought he’d be uncertain, or regretful. He wasn’t. He was glad Emmeline was his.
But this hadn’t just been sex. It’d been more like … love. He hadn’t planned on love. He was only now starting to like her. Love was not part of the deal.
The fact that he felt so much made him just want her that much more.
In the past, sex was like exercise—a great workout and a welcome release, giving him a good night’s sleep.
But tonight he couldn’t sleep. Instead he was lying awake, seething with chaotic emotions, new emotions, intense emotions.
He did not want the emotions. He did not want anything to do with feelings, especially if they could trip him up, cloud his thinking.
He desired Emmeline, wanted Emmeline, would soon marry Emmeline, but he didn’t know how she felt about him.
Yes, she desired him. After all, tonight she’d been hot, wet, astonishingly responsive. He’d made her come tonight—twice—but could there be more between them? Could there be love?
Tonight kissing her, buried deep in her, he’d felt lost in her, felt lost in something he’d forgotten even existed. Light. Warmth. Joy.
She felt like something you waited for … something special, magical … like the feeling you got as a child on Christmas morning.
Baffled by the dark tangle of his emotions, Zale rolled onto his side to look down at her, her elegant profile barely visible in the dark.
He’d known for years she was to be his. He’d known since he was fifteen she was the one chosen for him. But he’d never expected this … never expected this overwhelming desire to keep her, protect her, not just now, but forever.
CHAPTER NINE
HANNAH woke up early the next morning in a very dark room, in a strange bed, feeling utterly disoriented. And then turning over, she bumped against a very large, warm, solid person and it all came back to her.
She was in Zale’s room, in his bed, naked.
Bits and pieces of the past night came to her. Guilt pummeled her. Why had she let this happen? How could she have let it happen?
Worse, how could she have enjoyed it so much?
But it had been amazing. He’d been amazing and last night he’d managed with his talented hands and mouth and body to sweep away her better judgment, as well as any inhibitions.
Blushing in the dark, she remembered how she’d practically screamed his name as she came … so really, truly mortifying. Hannah couldn’t imagine Emmeline screaming during sex. Couldn’t imagine that a proper princess would lose control like that.
