How he’d thought of her here in his office. How he’d relived that day over and over, against his own will.
This would be compounding the mistake, to do it again.
Or just enjoying a mistake already made.He did not tolerate mistakes, but making them with her took his mind off impending fatherhood and all that lay on the other side ofthat.
Or he just wanted her, and it was like a drug so that nothing else mattered but her.
Still in his chair, he tugged her jacket off her shoulders, but not all the way off her arms. It held her there, a kind of handcuffs if she did not shrug her arms out of the sleeves.
She did not.
Desire pumped through him, drugging him into forgetting everything except her, this moment, the blood pounding in his own ears. He could not be a real man in any sense of the word. He had to be a king. Heknewthis, but it was like she took away all his brain power so that knowledge was gone completely and utterly and replaced with only desire.
He wrapped his hands around her wrists so she couldn’t even shrug out of the jacket, restricting her movement if she wanted to. He needed some control. Some ballast.
“This will count as my next appointment,” he told her. Because that would make it okay. Acceptable. Not another mistake. Just a duty done.
She was completely at his mercy. She couldn’t move if he didn’t let her go. And this was not out of the bounds of their agreement. It was simply…a little spontaneous.
But her eyes held his. Calm and direct. “I’m afraid not. If you want me here and now, you can have me. But you willalsomake your next appointment. You don’t get to substitute on a whim.” Her mouth curved into a smug smile. “But you may add whenever you like.”
He should argue with her. He should stop. He should refuse. Let her go.
This would not be anaddition. She did not get to determine that.
Instead of arguing, he kissed her. Deep and wild and hungry, holding her arms still so she could do little more than kiss him back. She made greedy little noises, squirming there on his desk. He put his mouth to her neck, scraped his teeth down the taut tendons there. She moaned his name.
He wanted to remove her shirt, but that would require letting her go, and he didn’t seem to know how, so he only used his mouth over the fabric, and bit gently just where he knew it would send her arching back, gasping in pleasure.
He felt nothing but an ache, a need, and she alone could solve that. Which meant it was a problemhedid not have to solve.
Finally, he released her hands—not that she moved. Because he needed more. To spread her legs wide. She still wore her underwear, but he didn’t even bother to pull them down, just moved the offending fabric out of the way and set his mouth to her. He tasted her, as deep, wild and hungry as the kiss. She cried out—and if anyone was listening outside his door they might hear. They might know.
He didn’t care. Not as he drove her to a blooming, shuddering climax with his tongue. Her hand fisted in his hair as an anchor.
He pulled her off the desk and into his lap. The chair was just big enough she could straddle him. For a moment, his gaze was hooked to the swell of her stomach, the tiny evidence of his child growing there.
His.
He itched to reach out and place his hands upon it,feelit, the life she grew inside of her, but there was a terrible ache inside of him—one he was afraid would never go away if he did so.
So he kept his hands to himself and looked up at her on his lap. Her cheeks were pink, her hair tousled now, and her hand worked on the enclosure of his pants quickly.
It took nothing at all, just a few tugs, a little rearranging and she was shuddering around him as he moved inside her. So responsive. So perfect. Like she’d been made for him instead of the curse he knew she had to be.
And though he had no time, he took it, building her up again. And again. And again. Reveling in the sounds she made, the way she felt against him. It shouldn’t be here, buthereceased to exist. There was only her. There was only the way he felt with her.
A man, not a king. Helpless and out of control andhers, not his country’s. The relief of that was as staggering as she was.
“Alex,please.” It was theAlex, her voice, the sheer perfection of everything she gave that had him finally giving over to his own release.
Then she simply melted into him. Their breathing ragged, but she didn’t get up. Didn’t remove herself. She held on to him, and he found himself holding on to her, sitting in his chair. When he had responsibilities and meetings and duties outside that door.
“What are you doing to me?” he heard himself rasp. He should not have said it, but he did notunderstand. He could not seem to fight the temptation she was. She gave too much, and how could he be who he needed to be if she kept showing him some inner part of himself that had no place in the reality of his life?
She pulled back, still in his lap. She framed his face with her small hands. Met his gaze. Looked soearnest. “Loving you.”
It was as if she’d thrown ice water on him. He went from a sluggish, sated confusion to ice. He felt ill. Actually, physically ill. Something old and dark poked at him, but he shoved it away. Set her off him and got to his feet. He moved away from her and these horrible words.
