The Queen's New Year Secret

by Maisey Yates

  She intended to reach for both tonight. To strip him bare completely, not just of his clothes, but everything else.

  She had dug into the back of that wardrobe, every piece of clothing provided her by a stranger, and found a bright red dress that she would normally never have chosen. She felt as though it was painted over her curves, clinging so tightly to everything, she was certain that each and every flaw her body claimed as its own was on very loud display.

  She had never worried terribly much about her figure. Why, when her husband spent so little time looking at it? But now, she intended to use it as a weapon. To be sufficient ammunition to blast that mountain of a man down to his knees.

  She took a breath and looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized the woman she saw there. Her blond hair was spilling over her shoulders, unrestrained. She had not styled it within an inch of its life, had not tamed it into submission. Rather, it looked a little bit wild. She was wearing lipstick that matched the dress, also much bolder and brighter than she tended to be.

  But a seduction of this importance required bold and bright.

  She walked down the sweeping staircase, her fingertips skimming the rail. She had repainted her nails to match the dress and to get rid of the chipped polish she had been wearing for the past few days. She wasn’t going to nervously pick at this manicure. In part, because she wasn’t going to be nervous.

  She gritted her teeth, repeating that mantra over and over again. As though, if she thought it enough times it would make it true.

  Then she saw Kairos, standing at the foot of the stairs, wearing a white shirt that was unbuttoned at his throat, revealing a tempting wedge of bronzed skin, just a hint of his dark chest hair. She loved his chest. Could spend hours exploring it with her hands, her lips and her tongue. She found that she had very few inhibitions where he was concerned. That, at least, had made the past week fun.

  She smiled as her foot hit the floor and she stood, waiting to see if she could discern his reaction to her appearance.

  He was stoic, as ever, his expression schooled into hard granite. But it was that grim set of his mouth, that determination in his eyes that let her know that he was in fact affected. His jaw was so tight, the veins in his neck were standing out, his hands clenched into fists, the enticing muscles of his forearms flexed with the strength that it took for him to restrain himself.

  Yes, she was certainly having an effect.

  “Are you dressed for dinner?” he asked.

  “Actually, I’m dressed for dessert.”

  * * *

  Kairos was not entirely certain when he lost control of the situation. Whether it was the moment he caught sight of Tabitha descending the stairs in that dress that clung to her body like a lover, outlining her full breasts, slim waist and perfectly rounded hips. Whether it was when his eyes zeroed in on her lips, painted a bold red, and he immediately imagined her leaving that color all over his skin.

  Or whether it was sometime much earlier. Whether it had been slowly sifting through his fingers like sand through an hourglass from the moment they first arrived on this island. He had brought her here to force her to come around to his way of thinking. But standing here, his world seemingly turned on end, he was beginning to wonder who was in charge.

  She closed the distance between them, pressing her breasts against his chest, curling her fingers around the back of his neck and drawing his head down for a kiss. It was slow, achingly so. He wanted to wrap her in his embrace, crush her up against him and claim her completely. To show her that she was not the one in control here. But he didn’t want this to end. He was so desperate to see what she had planned.

  Even while everything in him denied it.

  Distancing himself from Tabitha over the past few days had not been a simple task. He had tasted paradise, unrestrained, unmitigated bliss at her hands, and then he had put up a wall. Had drawn a veil between them, blunting their every interaction since. Not allowing himself to get lost in it, not completely, not again. He knew his reasoning was sound, but it was a torture that he had not counted on.

  She flicked her tongue out, tracing the edge of his upper lip slowly. Heat fired along his veins, molten fire pooling in his stomach. And he almost lost his control completely in that moment. She pressed her palm against his chest, against where his heart raged, almost out of control, then slid her fingertips down over his stomach, to his belt buckle. She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and his breath caught in his throat.

  She meant to do this slow, that he could see clearly. It also might kill him, that he could see clearly too.

  She worked his belt through the loop slowly, an echo to that first time she had gone down on him out on the terrace. She finished undoing the clasp on his pants, slipped her hands beneath the fabric and curled her delicate fingers around his aching flesh. His breath hissed through his teeth, his entire body going rigid beneath her touch.

  She deepened her kiss as she stroked him, mirroring the rhythm of her hand with her tongue. An involuntary shudder wracked his entire body and she squeezed him tightly as she bit his lower lip.

  “Tabitha,” he growled. Begging. Cursing. Warning.

  “What?” she asked, her tone a model of innocence.

  “Do not test me,” he said, not even knowing entirely what he meant. Only that he was desperate to push her away, but he wasn’t strong enough. Physically, of course he was strong enough. She was a soft, petite woman, and physically he could overpower her if he chose. It was his spirit that wasn’t strong enough. He was powerless beneath her touch. And if one of them was going to make the choice to walk away from this moment, it would have to be her. Because he could not. He had tried over the past few days to practice restraint and he was all out of it.

  Not just the past few days, the past five years. Five long years of being married to a woman such as her and holding his desire for her in check. He could not. He could not endure the restraint any longer.

  “Oh, agape, I have come here to test you. And I hope very much you fail,” she said, angling her head and kissing his neck, her teeth scraping the sensitive skin there. “I came here to give myself to you. As a gift. One without strings. One you can use as selfishly as you wish. You can enjoy this, enjoy me, to your heart’s content.”

  A feral sound escaped his lips, and he tightened his hold on her, sliding his hands down her thighs and lifting her up, her dress riding up past her hips, her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her from the base of the stairs into the living area.

  He moved over to the couch, lowering himself down onto it, keeping a hold of her hips. He sat, with her straddling his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, his grip on her tight. She arched against him, pressing the heat of her against his heart and arousal, a short, luxurious sound of pleasure resonating through her as she did.

  “I like this view,” he said, sliding his hand up her waist and moving it to cup her breast, teasing her nipple with his thumb. “It is a beautiful dress. But I think I would prefer it on the floor.”

  He reached around, taking hold of the zipper tab and drawing it downward, letting the dress fall around her waist, revealing pale, perfect breasts. He leaned in, lowering his head and drawing one tightened bud into his mouth before circling it slowly with the tip of his tongue. She shivered beneath his touch and a surge of satisfaction claimed him. Stole every thought from his mind. He could think of nothing else but having her, consuming her, giving her mindless pleasure as she had done for him.

  He tightened his hold on her, reversing their positions so that she was sitting down on the couch and he was overhead. He lowered himself onto the floor, grabbing hold of her dress and pulling it from her body, finding her completely bare beneath it. He swore, lowering himself further so that he was down on his knees, a supplicant worshipping at the temple of her beauty.

  She was
so beautiful, so perfectly aroused and uninhibited for him. He was so hard it was a physical pain. He wanted nothing more than to free himself completely from his clothes and bury himself deep inside of her.

  But then it would be over. Far too quickly. And she was not half so mindless as he needed her to be.

  He realized then that this was the definition of being thoroughly seduced. To the degree that Tabitha was no longer even the aggressor. His body was convinced that this was absolutely his idea and that there was no other course of action. He was not going to fight against it.

  He moved his hands slowly along her inner thighs, avoiding the most feminine part of her. Relishing it when she shifted beneath his touch, a needy, disappointed sound escaping from her as he avoided the place he knew she was desperate for him to touch.

  “Kairos,” she said, her tone holding a hint of steel. A hint of demand.

  “Patience, agape,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked, “I’ve waited five years for you to look at me like this. Why should I wait another moment?”

  She was not wrong. He had never done this for her before. Had never tasted her.

  He regretted it bitterly.

  But he would not allow the regret to linger for much longer. Because he would satisfy that desire soon. Would satiate his appetite for her. But only after he had made her beg for it.

  He moved his hand between her thighs, his finger gliding through her slick flesh, over the bundle of nerves there. She arched her back, letting her head fall back, thrusting her breasts forward, her chest rising and falling quickly with her sharp, uncontrolled breaths.

  He teased the entrance to her body with his fingertips, spurred on by every restless shift of her hips as she sought out deeper penetration. “You want me,” he said, his voice so rocky he barely recognized it. “You really want me.”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Kairos, stop teasing me.”

  “So wet for me, my sweet wife. I know you didn’t marry me because of any passion between us. But you do want me.” He didn’t know why he felt compelled to hear her say it. To hear her confirm it yet again. Perhaps because she had left him. Perhaps because he knew she had been unhappy for so long. Because he knew he had not satisfied her physical needs as well as he could have.

  Because he needed to know, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was not alone in this deep, howling need that overtook him completely. That made him feel restless and needy. That made him feel as though he would die if he was denied her. Forget oxygen, Tabitha was the most essential element for his survival.

  And he needed to know that he wasn’t alone.

  “I want you,” she said.

  “More than you have ever wanted another man?”

  “I have never wanted another man. You’re the only one. The only man I’ve ever kissed. The only one I’ve ever touched.”

  On a feral growl, he moved his hands, gripping her hips hard and tugging her toward the edge of the couch as he lowered his head, tasting her deeply, all semblance of restrained seduction gone completely. He was starving for her. And she was the sweetest dessert he had ever conceived of. He had been a fool to have her all these years and never have her in this way. He had been a fool to have her in his life, in his bed, and to hold himself back from her.

  He was lost in her, lost in this. Lost in the needy sounds she made, in the sweet, soft surrender of her entire body. She shuddered beneath him as release overtook her. And still, he didn’t stop. Didn’t stop until she was sobbing, until she was begging, until another climax overtook her and she was trembling.

  “I can’t,” she said, her tone spent.

  “You can,” he said, not sure where his confidence came from, not certain how he could make such a proclamation about her body. Only that in this moment, he felt as though he owned a part of it. A part of her. “You will.” He kissed her inner thigh before rising up and wrapping his arm around her waist, lowering her down onto her back and positioning himself over her. “I need you,” he said, kissing her lips deeply as he thrust into her.

  She cried out, arching up against him, pressing her breasts against his chest, pushing her hips up against his as he buried himself inside of her. She met his every movement with one of her own, met each kiss, each sound of pleasure.

  He tried to go slow, tried to keep things measured, controlled. But he was beyond any of that now. Beyond anything but his intense need for her. Arousal roared through his veins like a beast, overtaking him, consuming him. And he gave up on control. Gave up on slow. On gentle or restrained. He slipped his hands beneath her bottom, drawing her up hard against him as he thrust in deep. As he increased the intensity, as he let the world fade away, he lost himself completely in the tight, wet heat of her body.

  Her internal muscles clenched tightly around him, and he felt another orgasm radiating through her. It called irresistibly to the beast inside of him. As though it was just the thing he had been waiting for. It grabbed him by the throat and he could do nothing but submit to it. To the wild, unquenchable pleasure that gripped him tightly and shook him until he was left there, bleeding out on the ground, completely and utterly defeated by the strength of the desire that had claimed him.

  When it was over, he realized where he was. Naked, utterly vulnerable, utterly claimed by the woman beneath him.

  He had no walls up, no defenses.

  And it was unacceptable.

  He pushed away from her, forcing his fingers through his hair, resting his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward, trying to catch his breath.

  “Kairos?” Her voice was soft, questioning, and he hated himself for the bastard that he was. Hated that she was now asking for things that he could never give.

  And it was his fault. Because he had given in to her. Because he had sought to bind her to him while knowing he would never be able to give all of himself. Still, even feeling like the lowest form of life on the planet, he knew he could do nothing else. He knew there was no other course of action to be taken. He needed her. Needed her in his life forever, and at the same time he knew his own weaknesses. Knew that he had to keep his defenses strong.

  This could not be endured.

  “Thank you for a lovely dessert, Tabitha,” he said, rising to his feet. “I find I am in need of a bit of solitude.”

  He rose to his feet.

  “Kairos,” she said, her voice shaky. “Stay.”

  It was all so familiar. So blindingly, painfully familiar. In this scenario, she was the boy he’d been, abandoned, shunned.

  And he had become the one leaving.

  No. He was doing this for her. To spare her any more pain. To spare himself, the country, from what might happen if he were to ever surrender to his own base needs.

  He was not the villain here. Even if she couldn’t see it now.

  He turned away from her, walking from the room. And no matter how much he burned to take one last look at her, he refused. Denied himself now as he should have done from the first.

  He had been weak tonight. He would not be so again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “KAIROS?”

  The sound of Tabitha’s voice pierced Kairos’s sleep. He had gone back to his room after their encounter in the living room, and he had stayed there for the rest of the evening. At some point, in spite of his discomfort, he must have fallen asleep.

  “What?” he asked, not quite awake enough to sort through whether or not it was strange she was waking him up in the middle of the night.

  “Kairos,” she said, again. There was something in her voice that jolted him completely into wakefulness. Something tremulous, something terrified.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m bleeding.” The word ended on a sob. “Kairos, I’m bleeding.”

  He shot out of bed, giving no thought to clo
thes, giving no thought to anything but figuring out what was happening. “What do you mean you’re...?” It hit him then, exactly what it meant. “The baby.”

  He flipped the light on, and got a look at her face, her eyes large, her skin waxen. He had never seen Tabitha look quite like this. It occurred to him then that she might also be in danger. “How much blood?”

  “Enough.”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Terrified.”

  “I meant do you feel like you’ve lost too much blood?”

  Her eyes grew rounder still. “Too much blood for someone who’s having a baby.”

  “I need to call someone,” he said. In that moment, his brain was blank, and he had no idea who to call. Why could he think of nothing? He was renowned for being cool under pressure. He was king of an entire nation, after all. But everything he knew, everything he thought, everything he felt was wrapped up in utter terror.

  A helicopter. They needed a helicopter.

  That jolted him out of his frozen state, and he reached for the phone that was sitting on his nightstand, dialing his right-hand man of the palace with one touch. “The queen is having an emergency,” he said, his voice frayed. “We need a helicopter. Now. Medical personnel onboard would be ideal, but if that isn’t possible, speed is more important.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” his man said. “We should be able to send one from the closest island and have you back in Petras in less than an hour. Further instructions will be texted to you, as far as where you should wait to be picked up.”

  Kairos hung up the phone, looking toward Tabitha. “Help will be here soon,” he said.

  She only looked at him with very large eyes, and he realized how empty and useless his words were. “Will it be too late?”

  Suddenly, all of his power, his title, his status, meant nothing. Everything he had worked his entire life to become was reduced to useless ash. He didn’t know the answer to the only question that mattered. He had no control over the outcome of the only thing Tabitha cared about in this moment. He could be a king, or he could be a homeless man, standing on a street corner begging for change. It wouldn’t make a difference in this moment. Never before had he been so aware of his own failings. Of his own limitations.