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His mouth closed on hers, his hands on her hips, lifting her up and then bringing her down on him, impaling her.
Pleasure was like a lightning strike, bolting up her spine, expanding like a blast wave, tearing a gasp from her. His arms closed around her, holding her tight as he began to move.
He was everywhere, surrounding her with his heat and his strength and the warm scent that was intrinsically Rafael. The taste of him was in her mouth, the hard demand of his lips on hers, and she was lost to everything, the outside world falling away.
The man holding her wasn’t the Regent, forbidden to her and as unreachable as the stars. He was just Rafael. The man she’d talked with and argued with, and laughed with at night in her father’s study, over whisky and cigars.
The man who would be her husband.
Lia closed her eyes and gave herself up to him, letting him take her away from the outside world, surrounding her in heat and pleasure, and the promise of more to come.
Rafael held Lia in his arms for long moments, her warm body relaxed against his. She’d turned her face against his chest, her breath ghosting over his skin. It seemed as if she’d fallen asleep, which she probably needed after what had happened earlier in the day.
He should feel good, holding her like this, but he didn’t. Something felt wrong, his chest was tight, as if he couldn’t get enough air.
Trying to go carefully so he didn’t wake her, he shifted her from his chest and on to the rug. Grabbing the throw from the couch, he wrapped it around her and put a cushion underneath her head. She made a sweet little sound, curling into the throw and snuggling against the cushion.
The constriction in his chest became acute, the need to move holding him tight in his grip, and he stepped out into the hallway, striding to the stairs and going up them with no thought to where he was going.
A couple of minutes later, he found himself in his office, a warm, comfortable room down at the back of the second floor. It had windows that showcased Santa Castelia’s magnificent mountains and the green forest that carpeted the slopes. Everything was outlined in white and black, the lowering sky making the view seem oddly oppressive.
Or maybe that was just his mood.
The need for air hadn’t lifted, his chest ached and he rubbed at it absently as he crossed over to the heavy, oak desk that dominated the room.
Now she’d agreed to marry him, there were things he had to do, things to organise, a nation to face and a brother to talk to.
And he didn’t want to do any of them. He wanted to hold Lia in his arms, touch the soft roundness of her stomach, where his child lay.
She is doing this for you.
The iron band around his chest tightened still further and he found himself looking at the doorway, as if he could still see her lying fast asleep by the fire, curled around the baby she carried.
She had clung to him as he’d touched her, as he’d taken her, driven mad by the way she’d taken him in her mouth, tasted him. So innocent and yet full of passion, inexperienced and yet desperate.
The combination had been too much for him, he hadn’t been able to bear it. He’d wanted to get as close to her as he possibly could, so he’d hauled her away from him and into his arms, holding her tight against his chest, kissing her deeply as he’d thrust inside her. And felt her welcome him...
Her arms had closed around him and he’d felt her relax, felt her give herself up to him...
Dios, he didn’t understand it. He’d ruined her, taken her future away from her and yet she’d told him she couldn’t let him take sole responsibility for fixing this, that she didn’t want him suffering from repercussions, too, and had agreed to marry him. Then she’d held him as if she never wanted to let him go.
Why? When he’d done nothing for her but give her pain?
But isn’t that what you always give people? Pain?
His jaw tightened and he turned back to the window, crossing to it and putting his hands on the glass. The surface was cool, but not cool enough. It felt as if he was suddenly burning up inside, as if there was a volcano inside him, heat building and building and if he wasn’t careful he would explode.
That was dangerous, so dangerous. He had to cool himself down somehow.
There was a door that led to an outside terrace, so he pulled it open and stepped outside.
Snow fell on his burning skin, stinging like acid, the cold so intense it stole his breath. He ignored it, striding to the parapet that bound the stone terrace and then back again, working out this burning feeling inside him with movement.
Why the hell was he feeling like this anyway? The sex had been great and she’d agreed to his proposal. They would be married as soon as he could arrange it and, once all the media furore had died down, everything would be fine. They could then get on to thinking about their future together.
She’s doing this for you and that’s the problem.
Rafael took in a deep breath, the cold scouring the inside of his lungs.
