“What results?”
He bent down and swiped her blanket away in answer. In a moment his body lay atop hers, both hands holding her head still so his mouth could descend. But before their lips met, Kristen gave a mighty heave that tossed him off her to the side. She knew it was only the unexpectedness that had allowed her to do that, but she took quick advantage, scrambling over him and to her feet. But his hand caught one foot, tripping her as she took her first step toward the door.
Kristen fell to the floor, twisted over, and kicked at Royce with her other foot, gaining her freedom again. But he was sitting up now, and though she snatched her feet back so he couldn’t try to grab them again, she knew she would never make the door in time.
She stood up with him, backing away slowly, her arms out to ward him off. He moved to the side, forcing her to give up the path to the door. He stopped when he effectively blocked that only exit.
“Get back on your pallet, Kristen.”
There was ominous warning in that cold order, but she stubbornly shook her head, backing away from him to the side of the room, coming up short against the wall. There was no escape, but she didn’t really want to escape. He was finally going to force his will on her, and though she would not give him this victory easily, she wanted the victory to be his—or at least to have him think it was his. Pride would not let her give in, but brute strength would.
Her heart was racing as she watched him strip off his belt and tunic and angrily throw them aside. And he was angry. There was danger in that, for he could very well hurt her. He was such a terribly big man, with immense power in his arms and hands. And he might be feeling at this moment that he needed to beat her into submission. It was what most men would do. But she had known the risk when she goaded him into this.
He did not move until his remaining clothes lay scattered about the floor. He had stood facing her, staring at her the whole while, the light illuminating only one side of him, leaving the other in darkest shadow. If she had not been standing there naked herself, he might have calmed down, or at least reconsidered what he was going to do. But he was too aroused from the sight of her for that.
She did not think he would leave the room to get a candle. She was going to elude him as soon as he closed the door, cutting off the light. That was her plan, as far as it went. Only Royce gave no thought to closing the door, mayhap for the very reason that the dark would hinder him until he laid hands on her. Kristen had to quickly rework her strategy when he started toward her.
She pushed away from the wall, keeping away from the corners of the room that would trap her. She could stay out of his reach only so long, which would not be long at all if he moved more quickly. But he was stalking her now, maneuvering her closer to her pallet, staying in a position where she could not dash around him to run for the door.
Kristen decided on the unexpected again, and with her hands clasped tightly together, she stopped retreating and turned on Royce to swing at him as she had done to Alden. The blow had staggered the slimmer man. But Royce did not have his back to her, and it was Kristen who was taken by surprise when he caught her locked fists in one hand. And he did not stop the blow, but added his own pull to it so that she was swung nearly full circle, making it possible for his other arm to slip about her waist and heft her off her feet.
He had only two steps to take to reach her pallet, and he tossed her down there. As thin as her pallet was, it was like being dropped on the hard floor.
Kristen was stunned for a moment, the breath knocked out of her. It was all the time Royce needed to position himself between her sprawled legs and enter her before she had a chance to use those strong legs to ward him off.
He heard her gasp of outrage now that she had her breath back, and he chuckled as her hands slipped between them to try to push him back. It was a useless effort. He was firmly planted and prepared for anything she might try.
“Give it up, vixen.” He leaned into her to whisper by her ear. “You have lost what you are fighting to deny me.”
In answer she bucked her hips to try to unseat him. That was useless, too, and only served to send him deeper into her. She gasped again, but because of the exquisite feeling of capturing all of him. He gasped, too, at the delicious thrill such deep penetration sent through him.
“Ah, woman, I take it back,” he breathed huskily. “Fight me all you like.”
Kristen very nearly giggled at his impassioned plea, which would have destroyed the impression that she was being forced to submit to his greater strength. But his mouth prevented her, closing over hers in a fervent kiss. She showed him one last bit of resistance by trying to turn her head away, but his mouth only followed hers back and forth and she finally gave up the pretense, accepting his kiss, returning it wholeheartedly.
His humor, although no doubt stemming from his feeling of conquest, had warmed her. She didn’t care about its source. As long as he was no longer angry, he would not be brutal—though at the moment she thought she could have withstood that, too, so inflamed were her senses.
Her hands slipped out from between them and gripped his head, keeping his mouth melded to hers as he began to undulate his torso in a most delightful way, not withdrawing completely, but grinding his hips against her instead, his belly, his chest, all combining in an erotic caress.
Kristen reached her climax almost immediately, and unknowingly lifted his entire weight as her pelvis rose off the pallet to beg for all of him. His own thrust as he attained that bit of heaven too, slammed her back down and increased her pleasure, bringing a moan from deep within her throat. She could feel the pulsing of his climax inside her, and this kept her own sweet throbbing alive and lasting much longer than she could have believed possible.
It was with regret that she returned to reality. He was like a dead weight on her, but she did not mind. His head was turned to the side, his breathing still heavy. Her fingers moved dreamily through his hair. She felt she could stay just like this forever. That was too much to hope for, however.
What he thought of her complete submission she couldn’t guess. Considering the way a man prided himself on his prowess, he might simply attribute her capitulation to his skill as a lover. Whatever he thought was fine with her, as long as he didn’t guess she had maneuvered him into making love to her. She imagined he would be furious if he realized that.
Her hands fell to his shoulders, then on to his chest when he leaned up to gaze down at her. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her palm, steady now, but with a strong beat. She stared at him, trying to divine from his expression what he was thinking, but he revealed nothing. In fact he seemed to be studying her features for the same reason, to see what she was thinking. If only he knew. She smiled at the thought.
“So you are not angry with me?” he said.
“Of course I am.”
Royce chuckled delightedly. “Do you always smile when you are angry?”
“Not always, but sometimes.”
She said that so seriously. Royce shook his head. To accept everything she said as truth was to be constantly amazed by her. He would rather think she jested.
“I suppose I should apologize,” he offered.
