He was jealous of her mind for housing them, of her tongue for keeping them from him.
“Tell me, spitfire, how do I make you feel?” he prodded, rubbing his stubble on her skin, wanting—needing—to leave his mark on her.
“As if I am someone else entirely,” she murmured with great feeling. “Someone who wants what she should never want.”
“And what is that?” he asked, raising his head to search her gaze for answers to the mystery that was Lady Tansy Francis. “What is it that you want?”
“You,” she whispered, lowering her gaze.
“You can have me,” he told her, wishing suddenly that he could offer her that promise in every sense, each definition.
But that was a futile, foolish wish, because he was the king and he had to live for his kingdom and the good of his people. Not for himself and his own selfish desires. He had to make an alliance that would further secure peace, and that meant marrying another.
“I can’t,” she denied, as if hearing his thoughts.
But she could. Perhaps not in the way either of them would have preferred, but she could have him. He could make her happy. He would give her everything. He felt it in that moment, his hand trapped in her soaked heat, her body welcoming him even as her mind would not.
“Look at me, Tansy,” he commanded gently.
She was stubborn, hesitating a moment despite the order he’d given. But then her gaze came up.
“Let me show you,” he said.
“Your Maj?—”
“No,” he interrupted, growling. “You’ll not call me that when I’m touching your cunny.” And if he had anything to say about it, not any other time either. “Call me Maxim. I give you leave.”
He gave her leave to do everything and anything. But he wasn’t a fool, so he kept that to himself. What was it about her that so undid him, made him more vulnerable than he had felt in years?
“Maxim,” she whispered.
And the answer to his question no longer mattered.
CHAPTER 10
His name felt wonderful on her tongue.
His hands felt wonderful on her body.
And his mouth, when it closed over hers in a greedy, voracious kiss, felt beyond wonderful. It felt…shockingly, alarmingly perfect. With Maxim, she felt safe. Protected. Everything felt possible, even desiring him, when his lips were claiming hers.
You can have me, he had told her, and those sinful, tempting words echoed in her mind now, repeated in every thrum of her heart.
She wanted him; there was no denying it. Not to herself. Not even to him. He knew, as if he understood her body better than she did.
The relentless ache was still between her legs, building again, rising to that perilous crescendo he had guided her through not long ago. But now his hand withdrew, his finger leaving her aching bud.
Perhaps he’d changed his mind as she ought to change hers. As her honor should make her do. But now that the walls of her resistance had begun to crumble, they were fast turning to ash. She was mindless in her need of him, this man, this kingwho could never truly be hers, regardless of the soft promises he whispered.
She felt her skirts sliding up her legs, bunching at her waist, the lick of warm air radiating from the fire on the part of her body he’d revealed. He was dragging her gown and petticoats and chemise higher, moving them to the side so they presented less of an encumbrance.
His lips moved from hers, trailing hot kisses along her jaw. “I need you.”
His raw confession sent a surge of desire through Tansy. How impossible to believe that this powerful, massive man would need her. To know that the desire burning through her veins matched his own.
Was he asking her permission? She couldn’t be certain.
“Yes,” she agreed, shuddering as he fastened his lips on a sensitive part of her throat and then dragged his teeth along her skin.
