A Christmas Vow of Seduction

by Maisey Yates

  “No,” he said. “I felt nothing after being with her.”

  “You said...it was about control, but... Is that another reason why you left me out there? Because you felt nothing after?”

  How could he explain he left her for the opposite reason? That he left her because he felt too much. Because it felt as though she had reached into his chest and ground broken glass into his heart?

  “No, that isn’t why,” he answered, his voice rough.

  “I only ask a lot of questions because you make me.” She arched a dark eyebrow, letting her fingertips trail down the line of his jaw, down his neck, where she pressed her palm flat against his chest. “Just think how much faster all this would go if you were direct with me. That’s how we do things in the forest.”

  “Do you also collect berries, live in burrows and bunk with squirrels?”

  “Don’t be mean.” She leaned in and bit him on the chin. “I did not live with squirrels.”

  He gripped her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I feel quite a lot when I’m with you. I left because I lost control. That never should have happened. You were a virgin. You could not have known how far I was going to take it. It was wrong of me.”

  “I knew. I’m not completely ignorant. That’s one thing about living in such close quarters with other people. You are forced to share some intimacies. You simply accept that certain things will happen around you and you are obliged to look the other way. As a result, I have been well exposed to certain facts of human life.”

  “Being exposed to and experiencing are two different things.”

  “Stop treating me like I’m a child. Or a creature. I am a woman. And though I have been able to make few decisions about my own life, I do know my mind.”

  “I know that.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Do you feel guilty?”

  “I just said that I did.”

  “No, I mean about the engagement. Our marriage.”

  “There is no other option. There is no point entertaining guilt over it.”

  She moved her hand farther down his chest, her eyes never leaving his. “I have a feeling you don’t have any room inside you for more guilt.”

  Cursed woman. Why did she have to see things so clearly? “Are you charging for this session?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Like a therapist. They charge per hour to listen to you talk about your feelings.”

  “That seems like a waste of money to me. You could go out into the woods and just scream until you feel better.”

  He looked down at her bland expression. “Is that what you do?”

  “I have.”

  He cupped her face with his hands. “What makes you scream, Zara?”

  “The first time I did it,” she said, looking down for a moment, “it was after my parents died. I ran into the woods. And I knew I was alone. Really, really alone. So it didn’t matter if I screamed. I had to behave myself at the palace. I had to be a princess. But out there, I didn’t have to be anything. Nothing but sad. Nothing but lonely. So I howled like a wolf. I don’t know for how long. No one heard me, or if they did no one came for me. When I went back...”

  “Did you feel better?”

  “Not really. But I could breathe.” She traced the path of a water droplet over his chest. “So whenever I had trouble breathing, that’s what I would do. I was alone a lot. I found ways to make it bearable. Ways that it was an advantage.”

  He had a flash of his own life. His own behavior. Parties. Drunkenness. Sleeping around with any woman who happened to show interest. That was how he combatted the years of isolation as a child.

  An isolation that had been an illusion. Locked in a bedroom, in a palace full of people, you could never scream.

  So he had found new ways to learn to breathe.

  “Perhaps you could take me to your mountain someday and show me,” he said.

  “Are you lonely right now?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, and he found that it was the truth.

  “I’m not lonely either.” She pressed her mouth to his, light, tentative. “You can touch me now. I’m ready.”

  He didn’t deserve such easy forgiveness, but he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

  He did not need to be asked again. He claimed her mouth, his touch anything but tentative. She said she was ready. Giving him permission showed that she knew what she wanted. And he would take her at her word, because he had no other choice. He had to have her. Had to have this. To chase the full, aching feeling in his chest that was so different from the emptiness that normally lingered there. Yes, this hurt too, but it was a different pain. One that he relished, one that he embraced.

  He wrapped his arms around her, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, slick from the water. He held her tight, tilting her backward so that her hair was in the water again, making sure that he had rinsed all the shampoo away.

  He brought her back up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes locked on his. There was something in them. Something luminous, filled with wonder. And he knew for a fact that he was undeserving of it.

  But he would take it. And he would take her.

  He claimed her lips again, delving deep, his tongue sliding against hers. He’d kissed so many women. More than he could count. More than he cared to count. But this was different. As though it were something entirely new. She was not simply another woman; she was Zara. She was wild, spicy, untamed. Like the land she had come from. He tangled his fingers in her newly cleaned hair, holding her hard against him. He was glad that this time they didn’t have any clothes between them. But even the water was too much.

  He gathered her tightly into him, moving into a standing position, holding her against his chest. He stepped over the edge of the tub, carrying her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. They were both still wet, but he didn’t care. As he had done that first day, he laid her down the middle of the bed, but this time he looked. He looked his fill. From those full breasts, down to her slender waist, the gentle flare of her hips and the dark shadow at the apex of her thighs. Water droplets rolled down her skin and he had a fantasy of licking each and every one of them away.

  Already, he was so hard it was painful. She made him shake. Made him feel as if he were the virgin. His years, his experience, melted away. Until there was no one else but Zara. Nothing else but this.

  She was staring at him, transfixed. “I have never seen a naked man before. Not one... Not one quite like you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I have occasionally seen men changing. Or getting ready to bathe in the river. I have not seen them aroused.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Color slashed across her high, arrogant cheekbones. Arousal, he thought, not embarrassment. “I very much like it. You. Also it.”

  He couldn’t help laughing at that. “I am glad.”

  He joined her on the bed, placing his hand on her thigh and drawing it down the length of her leg. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. She shivered beneath his touch and he moved forward. He saw a drop of water on her inner thigh and he lapped it up, moving closer to what he craved. He owed her. She had satisfied him out in the hall. And while he knew she had received some pleasure from their coming together, it wasn’t enough. She had also been given pain, which meant she deserved a double portion of pleasure. He was her only lover, would be her only lover ever. It was up to him to show her how incredible it could be.

  It wasn’t entirely altruistic on his part. He craved her. Needed to know what she tasted like. Needed to satiate the hunger that was building inside him for her. That had been from the first moment he saw her. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted her until that moment out in the hall. Until he had lost all control and had had no choice but to claim her.

  He took hold of her hips, moving forward and sliding his tongue over her slick flesh, teasing the bundle of nerves he knew was the source of
her pleasure. She lifted her rear off the bed, pulling away from him, but he held her fast.

  “You can’t do that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

  “Of course I can.” He ran his tongue over the same path again. “And I intend to do it until you aren’t screaming because you’re lonely. But because you’re screaming my name. You’ll scream until you can’t breathe because of me.”

  He lowered his head again, tasting her, satisfying his craving until she was rocking her hips against his mouth, until she was whimpering. He teased the entrance to her body with his finger, sliding it in slowly, before adding a second, establishing a steady rhythm with his lips, tongue and hands. She was close, so close. So wet and ready. And he was so hard he was about to lose all control. But he was intent on giving her this. On satisfying her in this way before he claimed any pleasure for himself.

  And then, finally, she screamed her release, her internal muscles tightening around his fingers as she did.

  While she was still shivering from the aftershocks, he rose, kissing her lips, positioning himself between her thighs. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, and he prayed to God that she was. Because he had no more restraint left in him.

  “I can’t,” she said, her words breathless.

  “Oh, but you can. Don’t you know? It’s one of the many beautiful, amazing things about being a woman. As many times as I care to pleasure you, you can find release.”

  She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “I would never survive it.”

  “Of course you would. Because I would never let anything happen to you.”

  Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening slowly. “Really?”

  His chest tightened, unbearably so, the ache rivaling that of the ache in his body. “Yes,” he said, his pledge. His vow. And with him, she would not be alone. He would do more than simply keep her alive. He would give her the life she craved.

  He swore that only to himself.

  “I believe you.” She looked at him with such trust, and something quite a lot like panic filled him. How long had it been since someone had trusted him? Kairos might love him, might not have disowned him, but he certainly didn’t trust him. Because Andres had not earned his trust. But Zara trusted him. With everything.

  He did not deserve it. But he refused to dwell on it. Not now. Not while he was dying to be inside her. Not while his blood was roaring for release.

  He tested her, finding her slick and ready. He entered her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, drawing it out to be cautious of her, of her inexperience and any potential soreness. And to torment himself. He deserved a bit of torment for all that he was getting in return.

  When he was sheathed to the hilt inside her body, she gasped, her eyes widening. He found he could not look at her face, for fear he would go over the edge before things even began. He didn’t want it to end like that. He wanted to give her more pleasure. Wanted to make sure that he was giving more than he took.

  He established a steady rhythm, driving them both toward release. His blood was roaring through his veins like a beast, intent on devouring him whole if it didn’t find escape. If it didn’t find a way to relieve the intense sensation that was building inside him, so impossibly large he could scarcely breathe around it. Zara arched against him, her breasts pressed into his chest, her hands sliding easily over his back thanks to the water from the tub. She flexed her hips in time with his, instinct more than making up for a lack of experience.

  She pushed her fingers through his hair, tugging hard as she claimed his mouth with her own, biting his lower lip before taking the kiss deeper. He moved his hand down her waist, beneath her rear, pulling her up hard against him, drawing her up so that she met each thrust. The tighter he held her, the more she fought to brand the encounter with her own mark. He rolled his hips, his grip on her tight, and she wrenched her mouth from his, angling her face, biting one of the cords of his neck. And he knew, she would have left a physical mark in addition to all the other invisible fingerprints she would leave behind.

  Her teeth scraped against his skin as she moved her hand down to his butt, holding him to her as she returned the motion with her hips. That, along with the low, husky growl that vibrated through her being, sent him crashing over the edge before he had a chance to stop himself. Pleasure burst through him like a volcano, the hot flow of his blood almost too much for him to bear. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Could do nothing more than surrender to the overwhelming release.

  He reached between them, sliding his thumb over her clitoris. His last thought before there was nothing but the sensations writing through his body was that he needed her to feel this too. Needed her with him in every way. He felt her begin to tremble, and then she arched beneath him, her internal muscles squeezing his arousal tightly, bringing up his own release. Then there was nothing. He buried his head in her neck, kissing her, closing his eyes and letting the world fall away. Until he couldn’t remember his own name. Until he couldn’t remember himself. A place of bliss.

  All too soon, reality rushed back to him. But at least, when he returned to himself he was with Zara.

  “Oh,” she said, the word coming out on a long breath.

  “Are you disappointed?”

  “No. I just... I didn’t know. I didn’t know it could be quite like that.”

  “Neither did I.” And that was true. He had used sex for a great many things in the past. And always, he was in control. If he was seeking numbness, temporary companionship, that was what he would find. A mere distraction, and then he would be diverted for just a while. But he hadn’t claimed the control here. This had been a fight to the finish. And right now he could not confidently say he had come out the conqueror.

  At the moment, he felt conquered.

  “I will have your things moved back into my room.” He didn’t think the words through before they came out of his mouth, but he meant them. He would reclaim control of the situation. He would have his way. There was no reason for her to sleep in her own bed, not when they had discovered this connection between them.

  He hadn’t used a condom this time either.

  Rather than cursing himself, he felt a kind of grim determination and satisfaction. If she was with child, she wouldn’t be able to push back against him about the engagement. About the marriage. And while he had a feeling he had managed to talk some sense into her, insurance didn’t hurt.

  He ignored the biting guilt that came on the heels of that thought.

  “Now you’re having me move back in?” she asked.

  “That is what I said.”

  “But you threw me out!”

  “And now I am throwing you in. Things have changed.”

  “The sex, you mean.”

  “Between men and women there is very little else.”

  She frowned. “Is that true?

  “In my experience. Though what we have is very good sex. As I said, it is not always like that. It has never been like that for me.”

  “Yes,” she said, climbing up the bed, pulling the covers back and burrowing beneath them. “Because you have vast experience.” Her voice was muffled by the blankets.

  “What are you doing? Are you burrowing?”

  “I am not.” She shifted beneath the covers. “I’m cold.”

  “I think you’re hiding from me.” He pulled the covers back and she made a sharp, short sound of protest. He slipped beneath them, alongside her, and covered them both back up. “Do not hide from me.”

  He didn’t know why he cared. Didn’t know why it mattered. Only that he had felt connected to another person for the first time in longer than he could remember, and he didn’t want anything to disturb that. He didn’t want her hiding from him.

  “This is very new.”

  “I know. You wanted to experience things.”

  “Well.” She shifted, moving away from him slightly. “Now this, and you, are things that I have experienced.”

  He wrapped his arm around
her waist and pulled her up against his body. “This was not a onetime thing. You are going to be my wife. That means you will share my bed.”

  “If...if I am your wife, and I share your bed, that means you will not share it with other women.” It was not a question; her tone was fierce.

  He had not intended that. Not at all. But this was a test of his control. He clenched his teeth. “Yes. I swear it.”

  She looked straight ahead, her dark eyes unreadable. “Then...yes. Yes, we will go forward with the wedding.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ZARA WOKE UP feeling different. It took her a moment to figure out exactly why. Mostly because though she woke up in Andres’s room, she woke up in an empty bed. The sheets were cold, and it was clear that Andres hadn’t been between them for hours.

  She sat up, holding the blankets to her chest. She looked out the small window that was behind the bed, and saw that the sun was high in the clear December sky. She got up, leaving the blankets behind, gazing outside at the landscape. It was covered in snow, the light glittering over the pristine blanket. It was late. She had no idea how late.

  They had left the lunch yesterday, and then...all of that had happened. They had come back to the room. There had been the bath. Then the rest. Then more. And eventually, she had fallen asleep. Somewhere in there, she was pretty certain she had agreed to marry him. She looked down at her left hand and saw that she was still wearing his ring. Yes, she had definitely agreed.

  And apparently she had also been in bed for nearly twelve hours.

  She groaned and turned back to the bed, flopping down over the top of it. Right then the doors to the room burst open. She scrambled for the blankets, pulling them over her naked body.

  “Oh, good,” Andres said, closing the doors behind him. “You’re awake.”

  “Barely,” she said.

  “We have somewhere to be.”

  “What?” She sat up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t know until recently. And because you have been asleep.”

  “I would have thought your schedule would be more fixed.”