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She’d never been kissed before. Never had a man touch her like this. And she’d never thought she’d want either of those things. But she was wrong. Very,verywrong.
She ached. She burned. It was as if all the emotion she kept locked away had been transformed into a fierce hunger she couldn’t contain.
Calista closed her eyes, the forest fire blazing over her, burning her up. But she didn’t care, because this time she was part of the blaze.
He tasted rich and dark and decadent, like all the things she never allowed herself, the simple, physical pleasures she’d denied herself in pursuit of her army career. But she wasn’t going to deny them now. His mouth was on hers and she wasn’t going to stop him, not when his tongue was tracing the curve of her bottom lip so carefully, coaxing her to open for him.
A low moan escaped her as she did, the kiss deepening, becoming hot and demanding as he began to explore. How strange. She hadn’t known it was possible to tremble with pleasure—fear yes, but not pleasure. Yet here she was, trembling, and she couldn’t stop.
She put her hands on his chest, his skin shockingly hot, the contrast between smooth velvet and the slight prickle of hair intoxicating. His muscles tensed, hard and powerful, and a sudden rush of desire swept through her.
She’d trained with men, knew how to gain the advantage over someone stronger and bigger than she was, using her speed and dexterity to win. But she hadn’t thought there was another way to defeat a man, and some deep part of her recognised it in the flex and release of Xerxes’ muscles beneath her touch, in the hunger of his mouth as he kissed her. In the clench of his fists in her hair.
He wanted her. She affected him. And there was power in that. A very female kind of power and it was hers.
Calista curled her fingers against the hot velvet of his skin, digging her nails in, leaning into his heat as the kiss turned from hot to even hotter, his mouth devouring and tasting, exploring and inciting. He wanted her to respond and she tried to, tentative at first. And then when he made a deep sound of male appreciation, her confidence grew and she kissed him back harder, her armour beginning to burn away, letting the demanding woman out to play.
His fingers tangled in the long strands of her hair, pulling her head back, the kiss getting even deeper. She wasn’t used to having her hair loose or to having someone touch it, and the slight tugs he gave it sent sharp, electric jolts of pleasure racing through her.
She arched against his powerful body, pressing herself to him, wanting something she couldn’t quite name. A big, warm hand settled into the small of her back, urging her closer, her hips against his, and she could feel him pushing against the satin of the gown she wore. Long, thick and hard.
The blatant evidence of his desire made her shudder, desperation coiling tight inside her. It felt as if every second of all the years she’d been without his kiss, without his touch, were weighing down on her, crushing her.
She spread her hands out on his chest, testing him, wanting more, desperate for it. He muttered something harsh against her mouth and she felt his hand at her back shift, the zip being tugged down, and then the silky fabric of the gown was sliding over her skin and away.
She took a sharp breath as her bare breasts brushed against the hot wall of his chest, sending sparks of pleasure through her. Sparks that ignited into flames as he pulled her harder against him, the heat of his body against hers almost dizzying.
Then something cold hit her back and she realised he’d pushed her up against the mirrors, the glass warming almost instantly with the combined heat of their bodies.
She shuddered, the sensation of being trapped and held, confined between the glass and a powerful male body unbearably arousing. All that mattered was that he touched her, that he kissed her, that he gave her more, because she was so hungry for it. Desperate for it.
She sank her teeth into his bottom lip in demand, her fingers tracing the carved muscles of his abdomen, loving how they flexed beneath her touch. He made a growling sound, his mouth leaving hers and trailing down the side of her neck, his teeth against the delicate tendons there, nipping her, sending lightning strikes of pleasure pulsing through her.
Calista groaned, sliding her hands up his glorious chest to his shoulders, her nails digging into hard muscle. He was so strong and hot, and he made her feel so good.
She hadn’t realised before, hadn’t understood that because he didn’t know her as anything but a guard he had no expectations of her as a woman. She didn’t have to prove herself or contain herself. She didn’t have to be...anyone.
Emotion rushed over her, a wave full of currents she couldn’t identify, that she would have ignored and locked down hard not a few hours earlier. But she didn’t now, letting it wash over her, letting those strong hands of his hold her, keep her safe.
It was a puzzling thought for an elite soldier to have. She could kill a man with her bare hands if need be and she shouldn’t need anyone to protect her, yet this was different. This involved her emotions and she’d spent so many years forcing them down that she had no idea what to do with the emotional storm sweeping through her now.
She was shaking and her eyes were prickling with tears, her throat closing. Her father would have been appalled at such a loss of control, but her father wasn’t here.
Only the prince was. And there was no judgement from him. No contempt. He didn’t tell her to harden up or to control herself. He only stroked her gently, easing her trembling body with his hands, whispering wordless reassurances in her ear. As if she was a skittish animal he had to calm.
She leaned into him as he eased her briefs down, baring her. Her breathing was fast, almost as fast as the sound of her heartbeat thumping in her head, an intense, intolerable pressure building between her thighs. ‘Xerxes,’ she heard herself gasp, ‘please...’
‘Patience,’ he murmured, kissing her throat, his mouth tasting the place where her pulse raced.
But she had none. Her nails scraped his back and she arched against him again, pressing her hips insistently to the hard ridge behind the denim of his jeans. She could feel the rough brush of the fabric against her sensitive flesh and she shuddered, realising that she was naked.
It didn’t bother her. It only made her even hungrier. She reached down between them, desperate to touch him, only for him to grab her hands and lift them, pressing her wrists to the glass above her head. She was strong, but his strength was effortless and she was no match for it; somehow that excited her even more.
The gold in his eyes blazed as he looked into hers. ‘Another second and I’m not going to be able to stop.’ His voice had lost the smooth richness, becoming rough as gravel. ‘I’ll need to get protection.’
It took her a moment to understand what he meant.
‘Oh, I’m on the pill,’ she said breathlessly. She took it to have control over her hormonal fluctuations, never thinking she’d need it for contraceptive purposes.
