by Maisey Yates
The glitter in his eyes turned molten. “Not nearly enough as far as I’m concerned. I will have to expand your education.”
“I feel agreeable to that.”
“Well, I do live for your agreement.”
“In this case, I imagine you might.”
A smile curved the corner of his mouth upward. “Do you think?”
“You have quite a bit of power, Andres, and certainly you have some over me. But I don’t think I’m wrong in imagining that I might have some over you too.”
“Do you not like dessert, Zara?”
“I am fond of cake. Why?”
“You seem intent on ensuring that you never get to have it.”
“I do?”
Just then the waiter came back by and Andres stood. “Send my bill to the palace. And we will take a cake.”
“Are we leaving?”
“We are. And quickly.”
He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her up to her feet.
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Because,” he said, leaning in, “you have tempted me. And now I must have you.”
A shiver went down Zara’s spine. “You must have me?”
“I need you.”
How long had it been since anyone needed her? Had anyone ever needed her? She wasn’t certain that they had. It felt... It felt good. The ache inside her was changing, shifting. It wasn’t a yawning howl of isolation, not that brittle emptiness. This was something else. It was warm, and it burned like fire, creating a desperate feeling at her center that she couldn’t quite understand. Desperate to do something. To touch him. To be close to him, skin to skin so that there was no distance between them. To make sure he felt the same thing she did.
He said that he needed her. And she desperately needed that to be true.
Desperately needed to feel connected.
Such a strange thing that, on the heels of feeling that she was in the place she belonged, she realized how much more there was. How much more she wanted.
To not just fit in with this place, but with this man.
The waiter appeared a moment later with a large bag, containing a white pastry box. Andres accepted it and whispered to her, “This is, I think, having your cake and eating it too.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“You’re about to.”
CHAPTER NINE
ONCE THEY WERE in the limo, they did not head back toward the palace. Rather, they headed deep into the city center. “Where are we going?” Zara asked.
“I have a penthouse near here.”
“You left that off your list of residences when we talked about it earlier.”
“I like to keep a little mystery.”
“Really?”
“No, not really. In fact, there is very little mystery to me. If you take the time to look me up online, you can find out anything you’d ever want to know.”
She decided then and there that she didn’t need to look him up on the computer. She didn’t have any experience using computers anyway, so it wasn’t as though she was going to tackle the task in her spare time. But she didn’t especially want the outside world’s opinion on Andres. She didn’t need it. She had her own opinion.
They wove through the evening traffic, down to the city center. The limo driver pulled to the edge of the curb and Andres got out, rounding the back of the car to her side. He opened the door for her and she slid out, accepting his hand as he helped her stand from the vehicle.
“Come on, Princess.” For some reason, when he called her that this time it seemed different. Softer, more personal. She held it close to her chest, against the burning embers of warmth that he had stoked earlier.
He led her through the front doors of the building, into the glittering lobby. Shining marble tiles on the floors, rich textured paper on the walls, and grand pillars stationed throughout the space. “This is beautiful.”
He tugged on her hand, leading her through quickly, toward the back of the room and the golden elevator doors. “I’ll show you around later. Right now I simply intend to show you to my bed.”
He whisked her inside the elevator, the doors closing behind them. She leaned back against the wall, her hand on her chest, trying to catch her breath. She could hardly wrap her head around today, around this moment. He wanted her.
He looked at her, frowning slightly. “What?”
She lifted her shoulder. “I just... I did not imagine that I would want this.” But she did. She wanted this to be her life. Wanted him to be her life.
“I suppose it has been a bit different than either of us imagined.”
“For you too?”
“Well, I never imagined my brother selecting my wife for me. Particularly not one who had been given to the royal family.”
“Yes, that was a surprise for both of us.”
Her stomach felt as if it dropped about an inch or so as she replayed the words that had just passed between them. What she had said to him. And how he had not returned the sentiment. He had sidestepped. But he had not said that he wanted this too. She was confident that he wanted her, that he wanted her physically, but the rest of it...? She wasn’t so certain.
And it mattered. It mattered so very much.
She had learned too much in her time here in Petras. So much that she could scarcely sort it all out. She had learned more about herself than she had imagined there was to learn. She felt too full with it. With this new understanding of emotion. How she could want this man unconditionally, and yet wish strongly that he would fulfill a thousand little conditions she could never begin to list until she felt the lack of them.
One thing was certain, a life of semi-isolation was simpler.
The elevator doors slid open and Andres walked out ahead of her. She followed, emotion still swirling in her chest, in her head. She wondered how things had changed so quickly. How she had gone from simply feeling, simply wanting, to being made of feeling and wanting. The two were different things, she was coming to see.
She followed him out into the hall, her heart thundering heavily. She waited while he unlocked the door, extending his arm, clearly indicating he wanted her to go in first.
She walked past him, into the penthouse. She stopped, turning a full circle in the center of the open-plan living area, trying to orient to her surroundings. She had made a lot of assumptions about Andres based on the way the bedroom in the palace was decorated. The way that it was laid out. It was clear to her now that the palace really wasn’t him.
He had said as much. Had said that he preferred to live in these other places. But she hadn’t realized just how little of him was reflected in that bedchamber.
The far wall of the penthouse was made up entirely of windows, a glittering view of the city lights spread out before them. The furniture was low profile, black and brushed steel. The floors were very shiny black tile, so clean she could see her reflection in them. In fact, if Andres was paying attention, he would probably be able to use them to look up her skirt. She had to wonder then if that was actually their purpose.
She was not the first woman he had brought here, that was for certain.
Perhaps the floor tiles were all a part of the den of iniquity this place clearly was.
“You do not look entirely impressed,” he said, closing the door behind him and walking deeper into the room.
“It is different. That’s all.”
“It’s more than that. Your lip is nearly curling.” He arched an eyebrow. “You disapprove.”
“I was just pondering the finish on the tiles.”
“What about it?” He set the bag that contained the cake on the end table by the couch.
“I wondered if you keep it so shiny so you can...see beneath dresses and things.”
Much to her surprise he laughed. “No, that isn’t why. Though I very much like the way your mind works. It seems a little bit twisted. Which I can appreciate.”
“It was nothing
more than logic. You have made me aggressively aware of your reputation.”
“An interesting way of saying I have been honest with you.”
A shiver racked her frame and she wrapped her arms around herself. “If you say so.”
“I would never want to deceive you.” He closed the distance between them, tracing her cheekbone with the edge of his thumb. “You have been so protected.”
“You always say that. But you forget. I know I spent a long time separated from society. In borderline isolation. But it doesn’t erase the tragedy that I experienced. It doesn’t take away that pain. Once you understand the evil people are willing to commit, you’re never the same. I have no experience of men and relationships, but I have seen the worst of people. The very worst. Yet I’m still breathing. I’m still standing. I am not someone in need of protection. Though your valor is appreciated.”
“I do think you’re the first person to ever accuse me of possessing valor.”
“At least I can be a first for you in some way.” She closed the distance between them, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“You seem jealous.”
She frowned. “Maybe I am.”
“A bit possessive.”
“Probably that too. But I don’t think it’s incredibly unreasonable that I should dislike the idea of you being with other women.”
“Of course not. But what made you think of it?”
“Being in this place. It is so clearly designed for seduction.”
“It is. I won’t lie to you.” Her stomach fell further still. “It is, however, new and I have not yet had the chance to seduce anyone in it.”
She felt more boosted from that than she should. “Oh.”
“Does that please you?”
She curled her fingers around his tie, holding him close to her. “Yes, it really does.”
“You surprise me.”
“I surprise myself. But I have never wanted anything bad enough to try and lay exclusive claim to it. You are the exception.”
“I don’t usually like it when women get possessive of me. I feel, perhaps you are the exception for me, as well.”
“I like the idea of that.”
“You know what I like the idea of?” He released his hold on her and took one step back. “I like the idea of you taking that dress off.”
“I thought you were supposed to be a master of seduction. Why should I be put in the position of seducing you?”
He loosened his tie and she was mesmerized by the movement. By the slide of the silk through the knot, by the movement of his hand. He slipped it through his collar and let it fall to the floor before flicking two buttons on his shirt open. “Forgive me, Zara, but I had imagined I had already seduced you.”
She smiled, surprised at how easy she found it. Then she reached behind her back, grabbing hold of the zipper tab on her silk dress and sliding it down. “Is that meant to imply that you are not already seduced? You are the one who was so desperate for me we had to rush here. We had to come here instead of the palace because of your urgency.”
She looked down, at the clear outline of his arousal pushing against the front of his trousers.
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I think it’s quite clear that I’ve already seduced you. You have seduced a great many women. You’ve told me yourself. I feel that I deserve to be part of that seduction.”
“I washed your hair, woman. Was that not seductive?”
“I am, it turns out, a very jealous beast. No. Your hair washing was not sufficient. I demand more.” She shrugged her shoulders and let her dress fall down into a silken pool at her feet. She was wearing nothing more than her very flimsy bra, panties and a pair of very bright red high heels that accentuated the shape of her legs. She did not feel embarrassed, or exposed. She felt powerful. Because she could see the heat in his eyes, see the tension in his body. She knew that he wanted her. She was certain of this, certain of him. At least in this moment. It was enough. For now, it was enough.
He slipped his black jacket off, casting it onto the couch that was near him. He unbuttoned the cuffs on his sleeves, pushing both up over his forearms. “I see. And what will it take to seduce you?”
“Take your shirt off. Slowly.”
He said nothing, his hands going to the front of his shirt, slipping buttons through the holes just as she had instructed. With each movement he revealed more tan, toned skin, more rippling muscle. She bit her lip to keep a whimper from escaping. The truth was, she had been seduced ages ago, and there was no need to do it again. She just wanted it. Just because.
Another new decadence she was not accustomed to. Having something just because it felt good. Just because it made her happy.
When he was finished, he sent it the same way as his tie, his muscles bunching and shifting with the motion. Her mouth dried, her heart pounding hard against her breastbone, echoing in her head.
“Now your pants.”
He arched a dark brow, his hands going to his belt, working it through the buckle slowly. She stared, transfixed. Everything about him was impossibly sexy. His chest, his stomach, arms, hands. She bit her lip thinking about what he was about to reveal. She was very excited about that too.
“You can go a little faster than this.”
She was sure she wasn’t imagining that, as soon as she spoke the words, he slowed his movements. “Can I? Feeling impatient?”
Yes, yes, she was. “Not particularly.”
“Are you sure I haven’t already seduced you?”
“Keep trying, I say.”
He smiled again. A genuine smile. She was keeping count of how many she had earned.
He rolled his shoulders back, the motion creating movement throughout the rest of his body. Movement she could not ignore. He was beautiful. No wonder women lost their heads over him. In truth, she imagined all he had to do was smile and he could have any woman thoroughly seduced with the beauty of his physical form. She would be more surprised if anyone ever resisted.
She certainly did not plan to resist.
He undid the closure on his pants, pushing them down his muscular thighs before straightening, revealing the full scope of his arousal. Hard and thick, and just for her.
“Sit down,” she said, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she had a chance to process them.
He said nothing, but his expression asked a very clear question.
“Do not argue with me,” she said, affecting her most imperious tone.
He took a couple of steps backward before sinking down onto the couch, his posture easy. He looked very much like a Roman emperor awaiting tribute. Well, as it so happened, she had a fitting tribute in mind.
She started to walk toward him slowly, conscious of the way her high heels made her hips sway as she walked, conscious of the way his eyes followed the motion. She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to simply admire his beauty. His square jaw, sensual mouth. Broad, muscular chest, and the dark hair that lightly covered his skin.
Then she slowly sank down to her knees, placing her palms on his thighs, her lips close to that most masculine part of him. She could only assume that as he had done this for her, and she had found it immeasurably pleasurable, the return would be just as successful.
She leaned in, examining him, her heart thundering. She ached for him already, her breasts feeling hypersensitive, needy for his touch. But she would have to wait. She would have to be patient. He had done what she’d asked. Exactly what she’d asked. And now she felt the need to demonstrate her appreciation.
She wasn’t completely sure where to start, so she figured following instinct was the best way to go. She tilted her head, sliding the flat of her tongue along the hardened length of his shaft. She was startled by the forceful feeling of his fingers in her hair, holding her suddenly, tightly. “Zara,” he said, his voice rough.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
She was held immobile by his strong grip, unable to look at his face. Whi
ch was probably for the best. He had so much experience, it was very likely that her efforts were laughable, and she would have no idea. But he would. He would be well aware.
“No. But you don’t have to...”
“I want to.”
He groaned, and though he didn’t release his hold, he loosened it. She leaned in again, returning to her original plan, taking a long, leisurely taste of him. She heard air hiss through his teeth, and she chose to take it as a positive sign, continuing in her exploration of his body. She shifted positions, wrapping her hand around the base of him, holding him steady as she took him into her mouth. He was soft, and smooth, but very hard. Hot. Not at all like what she’d imagined.
The desperation returned. The desire to know every bit of him. Every part of him.
She took him in deeper, relishing the breathy, uncontrolled sound of pleasure that he made. Paying close attention to the way his thigh muscles began to shake beneath her hand. She could feel his tension, running through every line of his body. Feel it echoing within her.
And suddenly, this wasn’t enough. She needed more of him. All of him. She slowly rose to her feet, unhooking her bra and casting it to the floor before gripping the sides of her panties and drawing them down her legs, kicking them to the side. She decided to leave the shoes on, if only because it felt like a strange, illicit novelty.
She approached the couch, bending at the waist and gripping the back of it, just behind his shoulders, before lifting one knee and planting it beside his thigh, then doing the same with the other.
He growled, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other pressed against her shoulder blades, his hand buried in her hair. He pulled her down so that her mouth met his, his kiss fierce, uncontrolled.
Incredible.
He slid the hand that was resting on her back down to cup her bottom, then down farther between her thighs, stroking her slick flesh, teasing her entrance. She shivered, her legs growing weak, her stomach tight with need.
He pushed one finger inside her as he lowered his head and sucked a nipple deep into his mouth. The burst of pleasure exploded a pop of stars behind her eyes. It was so intense, so incredibly perfect. She wanted to ask him where he’d learned to do that, how he knew. But also, she didn’t want to know.
