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He’d somehow got rid of his clothes and then he was pushing inside her, feeling the slick heat of her hold him tight, melting the last cold parts of him.
Her arms were around him, her thighs closed tightly around his hips, and she was moving with him, her gaze on his a bright gas-flame-blue. There was so much pleasure, his whole body filled with delight, with heat and with passion.
‘I want you,’ she whispered and the fire that had been part of him, that he’d always denied, finally escaped, blazing bright between them.
And he let himself be consumed.
CHAPTER NINE
LIALAYINthe huge bath and looked out the window at the snow outside. It had stopped falling, but the drifts were still huge, lying thick and deep against the sides of the trees, the house and the corners of the window.
There was something particularly delicious about lying in a warm bath while looking at an icy landscape and Lia took full advantage of it.
Rafael had suggested a bath before dinner and even though she’d already had a shower earlier, the thought of lying in some warm water was pleasant enough that she’d let Constanza run one for her.
Rafael himself had wanted to check any communications from the palace and the various media outlets to get an update on their situation with the outside world, so he’d disappeared into his office.
She rested her head against the black marble of the tub, staring at the window, her head full of him.
Rafael, sitting on the couch with her as she ate, handing her more food and pouring her orange juice. Rafael, telling her that she was enough.
Rafael, putting his arms around her.
Rafael, telling her that she was enough for him, as if there was nothing attached to it, nothing sheneeded to do to earn it. As if it just was.
She hadn’t meant to cry when he’d said that, but it had felt so painful and at the same time so unbearably sweet that she hadn’t been able to stop herself. A strange and intense feeling had swept through her that she couldn’t have articulated even if she’d wanted to.
And it was still there, lying heavy in her chest, that familiar nagging ache that had now become part of her.
It had been there for a long time, maybe even that first day she saw him getting out of the limo, but back then she hadn’t recognised it. It had felt too big, too complex, too terrifying. She hadn’t been ready, not when she was supposed to be marrying someone else.
Her eyes prickled and a tear slid down her cheek, joining the warm bathwater.
How ridiculous to cry about falling in love, because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Not a teenage crush or mere physical desire.
It was love. She loved him. There was nothing else this deep, intense feeling inside her could be. And he’d showed her what it meant.
It meant being accepted for who she was, without expectation, without pressure. Without having sad stories of sacrifices made and heartbreak overcome just so she could exist.
Her hand slid over the gentle swell of her stomach.
It was the way she would love her child, too.
She sat there for long minutes, her tears falling slowly, but they weren’t tears of sadness or despair. They were more for the intensity of the bittersweet joy inside her. Joy, because he made her happy. Bittersweet because she had no idea how he felt about her.
He wanted her, of course, and she thought he cared about her wellbeing, but did he feel this same ache that she did? And if he did, did he know what it meant? Probably not, considering his past.
Not that it mattered.
None of her previous concerns mattered. Being Queen, having a future, the press, being chosen. They were all petty problems that paled in comparison to what she felt for him.
She closed her eyes, remembering how he’d taken her on the couch with a fury and intensity that her whole soul had gloried in.
It amazed her how he could think he was in any way like his father and believe it, yet it was clear that he did believe it.
She wanted to know why. Had someone told him he was like Carlos? Was that the issue? And if so, who?
It made her furious, made her want to shout at whoever was responsible, because he wasn’t like his father, not in any way. His self-control spoke of a very deep and intense desire to protect other people, which was a foreign concept to Carlos.
