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“Is that a problem?”
He tensed before leaning his forehead on mine and whispering, “How is it you keep surprising me?”
“Because I’m perfect.” I wrapped my arms around him and dragged him down for a kiss before muttering, “Now show me why I waited my whole life for you.”
“I can’t hold on,” he growled as he began to move, rocking into me harder, thrusting until I clawed and panted. And when I peaked, he came with me, groaning over me, his body rigid even as the hardest part of him softened.
It took forever for my pounding heart to calm. My body squished under his. Had he fallen asleep?
Or worse, had I killed him? I could feel the steady thump of his heart, so not likely.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“No.” He groaned. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He rolled off me and sat on the edge of the bed.
“That was very enjoyable.” A shy admission that drew his gaze to me. Then the sheets stained with my blood. He saw the truth of me. The gift I’d given.
He stood abruptly. “I have to go.”
I watched, knees hugged to my chest, as he found his clothes and dressed. He didn’t glance at me once.
I remained aloof as he left without a word.
He never saw me cry.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
The King had no sooner left me than I jumped off my bed and ran for my bathing chamber. It didn’t have a tub easily filled like in the castle, but I had water to wash. To scrub. I rinsed away the blood, not regretting what I’d done. It had been too pleasurable; however, I was angry. Angry that I’d given him something special and he’d not appreciated it.
When I returned to the bedchamber, Palla was there with a tray of food and a big jug of wine. She’d stripped the bed and remade it already.
I blinked back pricking tears. Kept my chin high as I sauntered over and said, “At least he paid handsomely for it.”
Palla held out a frothy whipped-cream concoction. “You could do better.”
Mid-bite, I blinked and sputtered, spraying cream. “Better than a king?”
My friend shrugged. “Just because he’s a king doesn’t make him the best man for you.”
“He could never have been my man. At best, I could have been his mistress.”
“What makes you think he won’t be back?”
The gut-wrenching way he’d left. Not something I shared. I shouldn’t have cared. I’d spent decades not caring what men thought of me. How dare they judge me while being there to partake of my supposed services.
“If he comes back, it will be to arrest me for treason.”
“I don’t think he’d do that.”
“And what makes you an expert? You just met him.”
“Gut says he’s not a despot who wantonly does malicious things.”
“He froze you in place.” Using magic supposedly, which I had a hard time believing. Magic was the kind of thing you heard about in stories.
“He could have done a bunch of stuff, like had us arrested, or killed me. Instead, he froze me in place, which was fine until the whole smooching bit.”
My cheeks heated. “I’m sorry.”
