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‘Maybe you just want what you can’t have.’
Maybe he did. She didn’t back away when he bent his lips to hers. He kissed her gently, at first. A hello that devolved into piercing heat within moments. She tasted of sweetness and surrender, succour and temptation, and the need in him was so big. Seven years since he’d lost himself to this and he needed it again with a ferocity he couldn’t quite handle.
This night, with his father dead and not yet buried and the weight of the crown heavy on his head. This place that had always been a haven to him. This woman, whose passionate surrender had never failed to rouse him. Peel away the layers until she breathed only for him, Casimir the man and not Casimir the king.
The kiss deepened as he splayed his hands around her waist and drew her in. One hand to the small of her back now, as his erection met supple skin.
‘You still want me,’ she murmured.
‘And you want me.’ He dipped his head to her neck, to the swell of her breast and then to its peak and proved his point.
She proved it again when she scored her nails across his neck and kept him there.
‘Just so you know,’ she murmured raggedly. ‘If you take me now and marry another, I will make your life a living hell.’
‘I’m used to it,’ he muttered, and claimed her mouth again.
She didn’t fight him. Not when he took her to the steps leading down into the pool and laid her out on them before they both drowned. Not when he worshipped her with kisses and covetous hands. His hand to her ankle as he raised her knee to her breast. A kiss for the hollow behind the knee. The roughness of his cheek and chin against the flawless skin of her inner thigh. Delicacy after that, as he set his mouth to her. No need for a map; he already knew how to read every twitch she made and memory did not fail him.
She came on his tongue with a cry and a shudder that started deep within and rippled out, and nothing else mattered but conquering her all over again, with him inside her this time. He’d never been bare inside her before and he wanted to feel it.
It would be madness to risk it.
‘Whose idea was it to trade my bed for marble?’ he muttered as he eased her away and helped her to her feet.
‘Yours.’
‘Bathing after sex. Remind me next time.’ And then he was dragging her through the door and out onto the walkway. He’d taken all of two strides before another fantasy took hold. Him. Her. Stone walls and a valley far below them as he slaked his need for her beneath the moonlight.
He didn’t think they were going to make it to the bed.
He pushed her up against a stone column, his fingers laced in hers and hers above her head. She uttered a broken curse and sank into his kiss as if born for it.
‘I never forgot,’ he whispered, knowing it for confession. A power exchange he could never deny, no matter what happened going forward.
‘I wept when you left,’ she said between kisses.
One hand was to her wrists now, his other around the curve of her buttock to urge her closer, her leg outside his—he’d dreamed of this, here in the moonlight. ‘I dreamed of you.’
‘And I of you.’ Her admission came with razor edges. ‘Be careful, Casimir. People break.’
More curses, all his as he buried his head in the curve of her neck and held still. Trembling as she trembled beneath him. It had been like this their first time too. All heat and need, no thought in any of it. She’d borne his child, all alone, and stayed alone afterwards if reports could be believed.
He believed.
‘Forgive me.’ As he claimed her mouth again and trailed his hand from her wrist down her arm and the hollow of her underarm, around the back of her waist. He lifted her to meet him, centre to centre as she wrapped her legs around him and her arms around his neck. ‘Tell me you want this.’
‘I want you.’
He pushed in on a groan and smothered her keening wail with his mouth. All the way in until he was buried as deep as he could go, no barrier between them. This wasn’t just sex, up here at the top of the world with ancient stone on one side, the valley below and stars looking over them. It never had been just sex between them.
This was devotion.
He began to move, breath harsh and flesh willing, and Ana flowed with him, supple and pliant. They fitted, their bodies completely and effortlessly attuned to each other, and pleasure soared. He’d missed this.
