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AUGUSTINEWASPRESSEDagainst her, all raw masculine heat and explosive temper. Yet she could see that beneath that temper was fear. And she didn’t need to ask him what he was afraid of. She knew.
He was afraid of himself, of what he termed his failings. Of actually being the mediocre king he told himself he was, and that the bare minimum was all he could do.
It hurt that he thought those things about himself. Because mediocre was the last thing he was. What heactuallywas, was wonderful. Warm and empathic and caring. Protective. And while there were some things he couldn’t do, there were also some amazing things he could, such as connecting with his people in a way she’d seen no one else do.
And as for those emotions of his, well, while he might think himself impatient and angry and dark, he was no more so than anyone else. Besides, she’d never seen him take his frustrations out on anyone, not even once.
Yet the worst thing was, it wasn’t his fault he thought those things of himself. It wasn’t even his father’s. It was a combination of circumstances and the kind of man he was that had driven him to believe that. A perfectionist nature combined with grief, and a powerful love. Because he’d loved his father, that was clear. Just as he must have felt powerfully about his mother, too, since he never talked about her. But she’d given her life to have him.
And now that was just another burden he had to bear.
She could see the fear and anguish in his burning blue-green eyes, could see the rage too. He was trying to frighten her away, she also knew that, as well as deflecting from what was obviously a painful conversation.
Well, she’d allow him the distraction. She didn’t want to hurt him. But if he thought him being angry would frighten her, he had another think coming.
He clearly thought that the man he was now was something terrible, but he was wrong. She hadn’t known him before the accident. All she knew was the man he was now, and she’d fallen in love with that man. There was nothing terrible about him. He said he’d hidden those darker parts of himself, but she’d caught glimpses of them over the years. When he was tired, he got short and snappy, but he wasn’t ever cruel and he always apologised. Also, shouldering the burden of a country would make anyone short-tempered sometimes.
He brooded a lot sometimes too, sitting there in the darkness of a room some nights, sipping Scotch. A serious man, and tortured, but not dark.
She put her hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes, feeling the heat of him soak through the dress she was wearing. ‘I’m not afraid of you,’ she said. ‘So if you’re thinking of doing some grand reveal of the terrible monster you are deep down, I’m telling you now that it’s not going to work.’
‘Perhaps you’ll think differently in a minute,’ he growled then bent his head and covered her mouth with his.
She didn’t flinch away. She met his kiss with her own, a feverish, explosive kiss that had desire igniting in the air around them like a blowtorch lit with a flame. Because while he had a temper, so did she, as well as a hunger to match, and if he was going to unleash himself on her, she would unleash herself on him in return.
He’d been so careful with her this past week in his bed, all soft kisses and caresses. Gentle touches, lovemaking long and slow.
But this was nothing like that.
He growled deep in his throat and shoved his hand beneath her dress, sliding it between her thighs, fingers curling beneath the lace of her knickers and tearing them. She bit his lower lip and widened her stance so he could touch her the way they both wanted him to.
Pleasure flared as he stroked the folds of her sex, finding the most sensitive part of her and sliding his fingertip around and around, firm strokes that made her pant and writhe. Then he pushed a finger inside her and then another, and she groaned into his mouth, because it was so good.
She loved this side of him, the demanding side. She loved every side of him.
He pressed against her harder, another growl escaping him as she bit him again, the kiss getting deeper, hotter. The edge of the desk was digging into the curve of her bottom, but all she was conscious of was the thrust of his fingers inside her and how good they felt. And how she wanted more.
As if he read her mind, he said in a low, guttural voice. ‘You really want me like this? You don’t know what I’ll do to you.’
‘Yes, I want you like this,’ she panted back. ‘I always want you, any way I can get you. And as for what you’ll do to me... Do it. You can’t do anything to me that I wouldn’t want.’
For a second, he lifted his head, staring down into her eyes, and she could see the ferocity burning there, so she let him see the ferocity burning in hers. Showing him the truth.
He cursed and then before she could move, he’d taken his hand from between her thighs, and had turned her around, bending her over the desk. He shoved her dress up over her hips. She heard him unzip his trousers; her breath was coming in short, hard pants.
She had never wanted him so badly. She liked him when he was gentle, touching her as if she was precious, but she liked this too. Him touching her roughly as if she was as hard as he was. As if she was as strong as he was.
She braced herself and then she felt him thrust inside her, hard. Pushing her against the edge of the desk.
It was glorious and she cried out in ecstasy. It felt so good.Hefelt so good. She loved how he’d unleashed himself, and she wanted to be equal to that, so she shoved herself back against him, letting him know that she was finding this every bit as intense as he was.
He thrust even harder, deeper, his breathing as wild as hers, and she noted dimly, that even as he was moving inside her without any restraint, she felt the little touches brushing against her abdomen, and how he adjusted himself so she wasn’t pressed too hard against the wood. Protecting her and protecting their child even as he released his anger and his fear into her.
She moaned against the desktop, letting him move as hard as he wanted, the pleasure inside her pulling tighter and tighter until she thought she couldn’t bear it.
‘Touch yourself,’ he ordered, low and dark. ‘Put your hand between your thighs and make yourself come.’
So she did, and he moved even harder, thrusting deeply enough that she felt him everywhere. Behind her, inside her, around her. A wild, dark energy that called to something wild and dark in herself.
