Her mouth hot and sweet. Her eyes that vibrant blue that held him in some kind of vise. Her hands on his still-clothed thighs as she took him as deep as her inexperience allowed.
He would come undone in mere seconds if he let her continue such a thing. He would stop this. Here. Now. A lapse in sanity. A momentary weakness.
When King Alexandre wasstrong.
He pulled her away from him by her hair, the sound she made—a keening kind of moan—arrowing through him, tearing all his determination to ribbons.
He released her hair and pulled her up from her knees and in one swift move deposited her on his desk. He kissed her, deep and rough, wildfire in his veins. Pounding through him so hard he couldn’t hear any more of his thoughts.
He unsnapped the enclosure of her bra and filled his palms with the perfect weight of her breasts. They moaned together this time. The warmth of her skin, so human, so real, so soft. His.His.
The desk was at the perfect height to spread her legs wide, to step in between them, to slowly, torturously rub against where she was wild and ready. Her desire ripe around them as he kissed her deeper and deeper.
There was some distant alarm in his head. His office. His desk. Hiscontroltattered on the ground, but he could still pick it up, salvage this mess.
“Alex,” she panted into his mouth. She almost never called him Alex. Not even in the throes of passion. Usually only when she was angry with him.
Now she panted it. Angry? Maybe. But notonlyangry. His name was as much demand as it wasplea.
He thought himself a better man, and it only took his arranged bride to undo all of that.
And then he was inside her, and shemoaned, erupting around him in great, clenching waves. Wanton and careless. He’d known he could push her here, and yet he always held himself back.
Wild was the enemy.
But it had won today, because he moved inside her chasing all that wildness. All that desperation. She moved against him, held on to him, chanted his name in pleading, pleasured glory. She touched him, and somehow she made him feel like a person—hot-blooded and real—instead of what he had to be: an icon. A statue. An immovable force of good.
She kissed him—her mouth was soft, reverent. Like she might care for him beyond all he had to be.
He had no space for that, even as it wound inside of him like a drug. Even as he stopped holding back from his own crashing orgasm.
The moment was intense. It made him feel like someone else. Like a man. Any man. Not a king. Not the man tasked with undoing his father’s horrid mistakes.
Just a man. The weight of it enough to make him unsteady.
And even in his brain-melted state, he knew unsteady was the enemy.
He removed himself from her, blinking back into reality even as his body still pumped in sluggish pleasure.
His office. Hisday. He did not have time forthis. He’d be late. For all the tower of things that must be done.
God knew he hadn’t even locked thedoor. What if someone had come in and seen him in such an animalistic state? It would have been a disaster in a million different ways.
And she dared to sit on his desk, naked and mussed fromhim, looking…sated.Smiling.It stoked a fury in him that he knew was the tainted blood of his father. But he would not ever cross a line into violence, into fury.
That did not mean he had it in him to bekind. “I hope you’re happy.”
Ineswashappy. Oh, it wouldn’t last, considering he was about to ruin it all, but that had been…
Glorious. Wondrous. Altering.
Except it hadn’t altered him. Well, for a moment it had, but now they were back to stone cold King Alexandre. Maybe with a little more panic, but he was reining it in, even as she sat on his desk—naked—still trying to catch her breath.
But now, in a stark kind of clarity, she understood why she’d believed he could never return her feelings for him. He always saw to her pleasure during theirappointments, and she knew he found some of his own. But it was always…a kind of detachment. He never caused her pain, was always gentle and attentive, and obviously came to his own…conclusion. Or there would be no expectation of a baby, after all.
But never this wild, fiery thing. Never this loss of control. Never seeing who he was underneath all those brick walls he built for himself.
But now?
