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He withdrew to the point where she feared complete loss, then put his thumb to her centre and slid back in, hard and slow, and made her moan.
‘I do allow some people a hearing,’ he murmured. ‘For example, you could tell me what you wanted me to do to you next and I’d do it.’
The notion that he was hers to command in the bedroom hit hard and made her eyes close. ‘I want you to kiss me and keep moving.’
He obliged with a smile, so she buried her hands in his hair and held fast while her body clung and trembled on the precipice of fulfilment.
‘See how reasonable I can be?’ he whispered against her lips, before stealing her breath.
She broke the kiss and gasped for breath. ‘Less talk, more—’ She was losing the fight for coherence. ‘More.’ More of everything.
‘Mine.’ There was that word again, and there was an implacability about it this time that burrowed beneath her skin like a brand. ‘No one else gets to see you like this.’
‘Possessive.’ She could be possessive too. ‘That works both ways.’
‘You have me,’ he said. ‘No marriage to someone else, no heir from anyone but you. That’s what you asked for. That’s what I’ve agreed to.’
‘I didn’t—oh.’ A scrape of his fingers across her too-sensitive nipple and the pleasure-pain soared. Maybe she had suggested…something…of the sort. He was kissing her again, the snap of his hips driving her relentlessly towards completion. ‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It really is that simple. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.’
‘Argumentative.’ His parents really should have socialised him more.
‘Enlightened,’ he argued. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘No.’ As he set his teeth to the curve of her neck and bit down hard. ‘I’m so close to coming.’
‘Do it,’ he whispered. ‘I want to watch.’
And then she was soaring, clenching, clamping down hard as he surged into her with a muttered curse and began to fill her up.
This was what she remembered most about their time together. The way their bodies talked, no words required. The way he opened up and gave until there was nothing left to give, and nothing more important in this world than being with him.
* * *
The morning after began with Ana’s groan as Casimir put a hand to her shoulder and tried to nudge her awake. She’d returned to her room in the early hours of the morning rather than share his bed. He’d resented it then. He resented it still, but there’d been no convincing her otherwise. She’d wanted to be closer to Sophia, his daughter, who’d woken with the dawn and was presently keeping Lor and the wolfhound puppies company in the kitchen. Ana had asked to be woken before he left so here he was, keeping his side of the agreement.
An agreement made before he’d realised she’d be returning to her own bed.
How did one wake a woman who didn’t want to be woken? Cold water? Brass band? Surely four hours sleep was enough for anyone?
‘Press conference,’ he murmured as she burrowed into the bedclothes and tried to make a cave out of them. ‘Wake up.’
‘More sleep,’ she muttered, and then the impact of his words hit home and she sat bolt upright. ‘Oh, hell. Press conference.’
‘There we go, consciousness. Knew you could do it.’
She spared him a glare from her collection but it was counterbalanced somewhat by the wild tumble of her hair and lips still swollen from greedy kisses throughout the night.
‘How is it you look so fresh and rested this morning?’ she grumbled. ‘You’re an incubus, right? You feed off my sexual energy and it gives you enough power to rule the universe.’
‘I’ve had four hours sleep,’ he countered, which was more than he’d had in a while. ‘And a shower.’
‘You do seem rather attached to the whole getting wet thing.’ Her gaze started somewhere in the vicinity of his suit trousers and finished somewhere around the shirt collar he had yet to button properly.
‘Checking me for marks?’ he asked and she shook her head.
‘I don’t leave marks.’
