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She managed to look up at him again. So handsome, like a statue. But he was made of muscle and skin. Blood pumped through his veins, and his heart beat fast. She was sure she could reach out and feel it do so through his chest.
Because it felt as if hers was doing exactly that. And she found herself stuck, because she did not know what to do. She did not wish to let on that she was inexperienced. She wanted only to be the Alexandra he’d turned her into.
He fitted his hand over her cheek, then led her head forward. She knew what he wanted, and it became what she wanted. To take him deep within her mouth. The slick friction, the salty taste of him. She absorbed the sound of his groan, his shattered breathing, and she wanted to be the reason he fell apart.
But he pulled her back, his golden eyes so fierce she was nearly afraid she’d done something wrong.
“Lay down,” he ordered.
She no longer cared who ordered who. If she had to beg or plead. Something clawed at her from inside and the only escape was him. Inside of her.
He rolled a condom on, and Al refused to be afraid. That was how a woman such as her got through any unknown situation. Believing you belonged in it. Believing you could handle anything.
And then he was on top of her, careful around her wound. Heavy and strong. Her protector. The man who had saved her. Who had given her pleasure, and now this.
Poised at her entrance, and she had no fear. Not here. Not with him. Not as he slid inside of her, with inexorable pressure and determination.
She had heard stories of varying experiences. That there was pain or discomfort or only glory. That it depended on the man, his size or that foolish thing called love.
She found her experience somewhere in the middle of all that noise. He was so large, and it felt as though she would never accommodate him. And yet there was pleasure everywhere else. And as he moved within her, as she moved against him not knowing what else to do with the pressure and the need, any mild pain, any discomfort melted away.
And then there was only this, where they joined, the little world of ecstasy, of rising tides of pleasure, one after the next. His hands were everywhere, his mouth devoured her, and deep within, he moved. Closer and closer to an edge she now recognized, now knew, now craved.
She sobbed his name, needing something from him she did not know how to express. Except his name. Over and over again. Until the world upended in a magical crash of ecstasy.
On one last thrust, he crushed her to him, power and passion in one explosion before they both fell limp together on the bed. For stunning moments, they breathed in time, slowly coming back to themselves.
This real world where she would now have to deal with the consequences of her wants. Except, what was so bad about this? It was an enjoyment for both of them. He’d made it clear there would be no union, and she knew that she had some new life far away from this one in her future once she helped him with his revenge and was paid.
Besides, finding enjoyment in each other would suit the role they had to play of an engaged couple. Why would there be an ounce of regret?
He moved off her, saying nothing. He disappeared into the bathroom, and when he returned, he stood in the doorway between bedroom and bathroom. He looked angry, which she could not understand.
“You should have told me,” he said, his voice tight, that golden gaze of his hard.
She didn’t see the point in doing anything other than lay in the middle of his bed, enjoying the soft linens and mattress beneath her as the remnants of her pleasure petered out pleasantly. “Told you what?”
“That you have had no lovers before me.”
She wrinkled her nose at him, trying to make sense of him. “Why?”
“So I could have been more...careful.”
She stretched out her arms, letting out a contented, satisfied sigh. “No worries. I quite enjoyed myself.” Which was an understatement, but maybe understatements were safer when he looked so stormy, standing so very far away.
When he said nothing and stayed exactly where he was for long, tense moments, she finally rolled over onto her stomach so she could stare at him. “Lysias, I don’t understand why this bothers you. I knew what I was doing. I asked for it. I even said please, if you recall.”
Something ticked in his jaw. But even better, she saw the flare of desire at the recollection in his eyes.
“Would you like me to leave?” she asked, smiling cheerfully at him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to say please.”
He made a noise, maybe a growl, then stalked over to the bed. But he did not join her on it, did not gather her into his arms with a punishing kiss as she’d half hoped. He stood there looking like some kind of ancient warlord she’d wronged.
Which she did not hate as much as she probably should.
“Do not forget, Alexandra. I am in charge. No matter what happens in the bedroom, my revenge is all I care about.”
“And I do not care about your revenge at all,” she said, enjoying her flippancy in response to his intensity. “But I would very much like to do that again. Shall I beg?”
