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anger and their potent sexual chemistry sucking up all the oxygen in the room. The air sizzled around them, sparking with too many wants denied. His icy-blue gaze dipped down to her mouth, and her stomach dropped down to her knees. He stepped closer, eliminating the space between them and sending her heart rate through the roof. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to for her to feel him. Something hot and angry sparked between them. He looked as if he couldn’t decide whether to fight her or fuck her. She knew the feeling.
“You owe it to your country,” he said, but his words burned with a different kind of heat than before, one that stoked an answering blaze within her.
“And it owes me my father back.” The agony of those words had her running for an escape, the kind where she ended up naked, sweaty, and too satisfied to do anything but breathe, because thinking…remembering…feeling was killing her right now. “Is he going to magically rise from the dead when I put that crown on my head? He died for them, for Elskov.”
“Do you really think he would have had it any other way?” Dom asked. “Do you really think he would have saved his own life if it meant sacrificing his country?”
No, he wouldn’t, and that was the broken shard of glass that cut against her heart every time she thought of him. Her father had loved her. She’d never doubt that, but Elskov, his duty, the crown—they all came first. And in the end, the truth of it was that she and his beloved country had both abandoned him as he lay dying. The guilt surrounding that moment never went away, but sometimes she could outrun it by shutting off her brain and letting her body take over. That’s exactly what she needed right now.
The tension between her and Dom had been winding her up since he’d walked out of the elevator and on to the Dylan’s showroom floor. She needed release. He could give it to her. Giving in, she reached up with both hands and grabbed fistfuls of his button-up shirt as she raised herself to her tiptoes, bringing her mouth in line with his.
“We can’t do this,” he said, his words brushing against her sensitized skin, but even though he easily could have, he didn’t break her hold on him. “You’re my queen.”
She stilled, millimeters from his full lips. “Not tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” he asked, but his hands had already settled on her hips, yanking her closer so there was no missing exactly how hard he was for her.
“Stop talking.” She nipped at his bottom lip as she tugged at his shirt, sending the buttons flying. “And fuck me.”
Chapter Six
Dom took her mouth, answering her desperate plea disguised as a demand. It wasn’t a dim lighting, romantic music, or flower petals kind of kiss. Neither of them wanted—needed—that right now. It was possession.
She was right. Tonight, she wasn’t his queen. She was Elle Olsen, the woman he’d wanted to taste, touch, and fuck since he laid eyes on her in that sexy secretary outfit that hugged her hips and accentuated her bountiful tits. He’d flirted. She’d teased. He’d kidnapped her. She’d shot at him and tried to knee him in the balls. It wasn’t exactly relationship starter material, but that wasn’t a possibility for them anyway. No matter what it took, tomorrow he’d make sure she’d agree to be Elskov’s sovereign, and he’d be her loyal subject, but tonight he was going to hear Elle scream out his name as she came.
Step one was to show her who was in control. He threaded his fingers through her long, silky hair and fisted it, pulling it tight and tilting her head back so he could deepen the kiss. He delved into her mouth, letting his tongue tease and tempt her until she moaned. That sound nearly sent him over the edge. His cock, so warm and thick against his thigh, throbbed. What he’d meant to do was drive her to the brink, and instead here he was ready to dive over into the abyss.
In an effort to take things back down to a slow, controlled burn, he traced a path across her jawline and down her neck with his lips, tasting the forbidden sweetness of her skin. But Elle wasn’t having it. She popped open the few buttons left on his shirt and pushed a hand inside. His entire world shrank down to two points—her soft hand against his hard chest and her pulse beating like mad against his insatiable mouth. It would be so easy to get lost in her, and that couldn’t happen.
He dragged himself away from her neck, giving the creamy column one last lick and nibble before circling around her. Her confusion was palpable as she pivoted, following his progress. Perfect. He wanted her off balance. He had the feeling it didn’t happen often. Stopping at the side table, still within touching distance because he couldn’t seem to make himself go any farther, he noticed a small button had landed next to the decanter. His tailor on Savile Row was going to be in a snit over the state of Dom’s shirt. He picked up the button.
“Hold out your hand,” he said, not sure who was more surprised when she immediately did. He put the small, pale, circular disk in the center of her palm and folded her hand closed. “I should make you pick up every one of those buttons before I let you come.”
The corners of her mouth curved into a sensual smile, and she jutted out a hip. “Let me?”
“That’s right.” He traced a finger across the curve of her cashmere sweater, loving how she shivered under his touch, her stiff nipples tenting the soft material. “You want to fuck me—and we both know you do—then we do it my way.”
Watching him through the screen of her thick lashes, she tugged her bottom lip through her teeth. “You need to work on this whole control thing.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Control wasn’t the most important thing; it was everything. “You’ll like my way. You’re already wet thinking about it, aren’t you?”
Her quick intake of breath was all he needed for confirmation. Resisting the urge to beat his chest like some sort of caveman, he poured himself a finger of honey-colored liquid and sat down in the leather club chair, folding his leg so his ankle rested on top of his knee. Each movement was precise, executed with deliberate slowness to draw out the moment, increase the tension between them until it was nearly unbearable. Elle rushed, and it was time she learned the pleasure of a leisurely pace. Taking a sip of akvavit, he wished he hadn’t stopped smoking. A good cigar right now would give him something to do with his free hand that didn’t involve touching her. It wasn’t easy. Good thing he never liked anything simple; the harder the better the victory at the end.
“And what does your way entail?” she asked, looking down at him with a mix of curiosity and hunger.
Her husky voice was as good as a hand wrapped around his dick. The woman was fucking lethal to his self-control. Downing his drink and walking away was the smart move, the right move. He should get up right now, but there was no fucking way that was going to happen. As long as he stayed smart about things, he wouldn’t lose control. He sat back in his chair as if he wasn’t about to spontaneously combust. “I want to see what you’ve learned.”
Her brown eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I know all about the time in Vegas. I forget, was the window that you were pressed naked against on the sixteenth floor?” His cock twitched beneath his pants. The brief mention in the surveillance report had him hard for days, no matter how many times he’d jacked off. “And then there was the time you came while sitting in that corner booth at the restaurant with your lover’s fingers buried in your sweet pussy. My favorite, though, was the supply closet in the dance club.” He sipped his drink, burning too hot to feel the liquid fire as it made its way down to his stomach. “You shut the door so I couldn’t watch, but I stood guard outside and listened. I didn’t know a person could make such a desperately blissful noise.”
The sweetest pink flush made her bad girl curves rosy. “You were there?”
“That time?” The sound she’d made had embedded itself into his fantasies, but when he had stroked his cock, she wasn’t moaning wordlessly—she was calling his name. “Yes.”
Her hand on her hip and the downturn to her sensual lips all screamed displeasure, but the lusty gleam in her eyes was anything but censorious. “We’re going to talk about this after.”
“About how we watched you or about your lovers?”
