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The vein in his temple throbbed, and his jaw tightened. “I’ve already told you, trying isn’t an option.”
He dwarfed her—his warm hand so large against her jaw and his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the room. She kissed the spot on his thumb where her teeth had been. Hard and soft. Bite and caress. Need and denial. That was them in a nutshell. And this push and pull between them that had nearly knocked her to her knees the first time she saw him? It scared her almost as much as the realization that she’d be taking back her crown.
“Is there anything that matters more to you than getting me on the throne?”
He dropped his hand, her question seemingly the reminder he needed that he shouldn’t be touching his queen. Still, he didn’t move back, didn’t inch his knee away from hers.
“No.” There wasn’t a trace of doubt or hesitation in his answer. It was like she’d asked if the sky was neon pink.
She slid her hand inside her loose T-shirt and plucked the key fob out of her strapless bra. “Give me your hand.” He held out his hand, palm up, and she pressed the key into its center, closing his strong fingers around it. “You’ve got your queen.”
The nausea she expected never rose in her throat. Her palms didn’t become clammy. And for the first time since the coup, she knew what was coming next and the part she’d play. Finally, her destiny was her own.
Dom stood up, and she had to crane her neck to take all of him in from her sitting position. The man knew how to fill out a pair of jeans and a fisherman’s sweater. Thick thighs. High, round ass, broad chest, and thick, corded forearms visible where he’d pushed the sleeves up. It wasn’t just his muscular build, though; it was the stubborn tilt to his chin, the confidence shining in his blue eyes, and the aura of power that emanated from him every time he so much as breathed.
Plain and simple, she wanted him, and this would be the last few days of her life when she could have what she wanted without worrying about how it fit into her life as queen. For the next two days, they weren’t the billionaire commoner and the future queen with the same likelihood of being together as the princess and the reporter in Roman Holiday. For a little bit longer, she could be just a woman and he could be the man who rocked her world.
“You’re staring,” he said, his tone gruff with want, pulling her attention to his handsome face.
“I know.” Liquid heat flowed through her, and she let her gaze skim across his body, her mouth watering with want of him. “We have less than forty-eight hours. I suggest we take advantage of it.”
There went that vein at his temple again. “What’s your proposal?”
She slipped her hand under her shirt, reaching around behind for the hooks holding her strapless bra closed, loving the soft growl of a groan he made as he watched. “Our own Roman holiday, but with more naked and fewer tourist attractions.”
“After that you go back to your royal duties.” He stepped closer, putting her practically within licking distance of his hard cock fighting against the confines of his jeans.
“Exactly.” More words weren’t possible right now. She was surprised she got a three-syllable word out, considering the trouble she was having unhooking her bra, an action she’d done a million times before.
Finally, it gave, and her boobs swung free, her stiff nipp
les pushing against the soft cotton of her T-shirt. She slid the bra out from underneath her shirt, dropping the black lace lingerie where Dom had sat only minutes before. Then she looked up at him through the fringe of her lashes and teased her full bottom lip with the edge of her teeth.
His jaw tightened even as his cock twitched under the thick denim. “I’m not an easy man, not even for forty-eight hours.”
Keeping her gaze locked on his face, she stroked the hard outline of his dick with the tip of her fingernail. “Good thing I like things hard.”
He grabbed her wrists and pulled her toward him, his face an icy mask of control when she knew how hot he burned for her. The intensity of it should have frightened her. Instead, it left her panting for more as her body ached for his touch.
“There won’t be a repeat of what happened in the library,” he said in a low tone as he held her arms aloft, his grip tight but not cruel. “When it’s the two of us and that pussy of yours is soft, swollen, and wet, I’ll be the one in control. I’ll have you wherever and whenever I want—in my bed, on my desk, on the floor right now if I want to. I’m going to own that sexy body of yours so thoroughly that you’re going to beg for my cock, because it’s going to be the only thing in the world that you want. And once I’m buried balls deep in you and you are filled with me, I’m going to make you come apart in the best way possible. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The single word came out half promise, half plea as she clenched her thighs tight, almost convinced she could come just from the mix of pressure and his words.
“Say it.” He jerked her arms high and back, forcing her to arch her spine so her breasts jutted out.
Thrill shivered up her body. “I understand.”
“What do you understand?” He lowered one hand and drew lazy circles around her still covered nipples, too soft to be what she needed and too hard to be ignored.
Her pussy quivered as she watched his long finger trace a figure eight as it traveled from one nipple to the other. He loomed over her, bold, fierce, and commanding, with only one thing on his mind—her. It was almost enough to make her orgasm on the spot. Almost. But first she had to make sure he understood her ground rules.
“I understand that for the next forty-eight hours this pussy is yours to play with, this body is yours to touch, and this mouth is yours to plunder.” Pushing against his hold, she leaned forward enough to glide her lips over his denim-covered cock as he moaned his appreciation. “Just remember your dick is mine to ride, your body is mine to taste, and your mouth is mine to tease, tempt, and enjoy. I’m not easy, either.”
“No queen should be.” He pulled her up, sliding her body against his as she rose. “But you’re not queen yet.”
His mouth crashed down on hers. Calling it a kiss would be a misnomer. A claiming. A guarantee. A threat. Fuck, it was heaven and hell mixed together with enough sensual promise to make it so Elle didn’t care where she ended up, as long as she was with Dom.
Chapter Nine
