IT WAS AN ONSLAUGHT. Too many emotions, feelings, sensations. Too muchher. There were proclamations he’d given himself, and he didn’t know where they disappeared to.
Because it wasn’t like the last time. It wasn’twildper se. It wasn’t frustration bubbling over.
I am yours.
How he wanted her to be. Needed her to be. Couldn’tlether be.
But she was moving against him, soft and sweet. It didn’t have to be about her words. It was two bodies. That was how he’d always seen it. How he’d prepared himself every time he’d come to her room. That this act was separate from who they were and what they must do.
Nothing felt separate, and all his old proclamations to himself were deserting him. She was making it so difficult to hold on to them. To separate duty from need. Because there was no duty here now. Shewaspregnant. So this was all…something else. He could not pretend it was duty. Hewantedit to be proof that he did not need such soft things.
But in the moment, he felt as though he needed her or he might never breathe again. All those careful fortifications that kept him separate, that kept him protected, that kept himsanefelt more of a burden than necessary when she nipped at his ear. When she said those things. When she shuddered and came apart around him with his name on her lips.
He moved up, tangling his hands in his hair to find that wildness that was dangerous and he should avoid, but with her it only felt elemental.
You do not have to be anyone but yourself with me.
It was a dangerous, insidious thought. Too good to be true. Things that felt this good were only ever harbingers of doom.
She met every thrust, every wild desperate move with one of her own. She used her teeth on his bottom lip, and he emptied himself in a shuddering, mind-blanking moment that seemed to echo on and on until he collapsed onto the floor.
Afloor. In a room where she took appointments with palace staff. In a room not meant forthis. But she snuggled in, her head tucked into his shoulder, her naked body tangled with his. She had asmileon her face.
On her floor. While she carried his child. No, this would not do.
He bundled her up in his arms. She made a low, contented sound in her throat that was both a dagger to his heart, and a salve to some part of him he tried to ignore existed. He carried her through the doorway to her sitting room, then another door to her bedchamber.
It was dim in the room, but he had navigated it in the dark every time he’d come for one of theirappointments, so he knew the way.
He deposited her in her bed, ready to leave,needingto leave, but she held out her hand as if to invite him into her bed. Because he was meant to stay, when he had never once allowed himself that before. To stay here in warmth and sated pleasure was akin to taking some kind of drug. He couldn’t allow it.
But it was on her list. A list he’d agreed to. Because he would prove to her this changed nothing.Nothing.So he got into the bed, and she curled up against him again.
Perhaps it was the deal, but if she fell asleep… Well, he had every right to leave, didn’t he? He’d tell her he was called away. That she did not get to have first dibs on aking. He could go along with some of her little list, but not all. Not all the time. Just enough to hold up his end of the bargain, but not enough so that shewon.
He’d just wait until she slept, and then he would slip out. Everything would be—
But the next thing he knew, he woke up with his wife in his arms and morning light filtering into the room.
He looked down at her sleeping form and wondered if letting her run away again—or throwing her in the dungeons—might be a better option.
Because he did not want to get out of bed. He was tempted to stay right here, watching the morning light gild her beautiful face. He wanted to feel the soft, even rise and fall of her chest.
You do not have to be anyone but yourself with me.
What a ridiculous statement. Because he always had to be a king. He always had to be a man who would put his country above his ego. And what was this damnable lust except some version of ego? Selfish desires. Thisyearningwas all the things he’d taught himself to reject.
He slid out of bed. He was careful to be quiet, collecting his clothes and pulling them on. With each item of clothing, he managed to build back a layer of armor. Ofkingly duty. Maybe these months would not be so bad.
If he could wake up and find King Alexandre again…he could survive this. Give her what she wanted, then the baby would be here, and she would have that. She would not have a need for…this.
Everything would work out all right. He would make as certain of that as he did everything else.
“Good morning,” he heard her murmur, sounding sleepy and satisfied. He didn’t dare turn around to see what that looked like on her face. He had met her demands, and now he would get a respite from them.
“You will meet with the palace doctors after breakfast,” he said, sounding stiff and formal to his own ears. “You will follow all their directives.”
She didn’t say anything at first, and he didn’t dare look at her, though he could hear the rustle of sheets, the sound of feet meeting the carpet. “Your health is paramount,” he continued, pulling on the rest of his clothes. “You will not hide anything from them. Pregnancy and childbirth is a dangerous time for a woman, if you are not aware.”
