Page 145 of LA King

His frown deepens into a scowl. “No. I have never broken our marriage vows, Alana. Not once. Despite how long it’s been, I have never even been tempted.”

“Are you looking for my gratitude, Alejandro?” I scoff. “Because you managed to keep your dick in your pants for a few weeks? You think six weeks is a long time?” I shove him in the chest again. “I have gone twenty-five years without having sex. You honestly think I can’t last a few weeks? Or that I would give my virginity away to a man who is paid by my husband to be nice to me?”

“You— What?” He stares at me, open-mouthed.

I try to press myself closer to the wall, but there’s nowhere left for me to go. He didn’t know I’m a virgin. I could have told him before today, but there was never an appropriate time, and I’m not sure he deserved to know. He sure knows now, and it only makes me feel more vulnerable. “Forget it.”

He gives a single shake of his head. “Alana, are you seriously telling me you’ve never had sex?”

The word gets stuck in my throat, but I force it out. “Yes.”

“But you must have had boyfriends.”

“I did, but not that many. I was always busy working behind the scenes on my father’s campaigns. Even in college, I worked every weekend. I figured I’d save myself for marriage or at least for someone I really loved.”

“And you’ve never been in love?” His tone softens, the anger from a moment ago gone.

“No. I told you, I didn’t have time for relationships.” There was Bobby Conroy of course, the guy I almost gave my virginity to, until he cheated on me. But I never loved him.

Unexpectedly, Alejandro drops his hands from beside my head and brushes his fingertips down the bare skin of my arms. His touch is warm and rough, and it feels like a spark of electricity. “I had no idea, Alana. If I’d known …”

I blink away my tears. “If you’d known, then what?”

“I certainly wouldn’t have accused you of fucking Hugo.” He goes on running his fingertips up and down my arms, and I shiver at his touch. “Lo siento, princesa.”

His apology is too late. “I hate you,” I whisper.

He dips his head a little lower, and I’m hyperaware of his intoxicating scent and how close his lips are to my skin. “I know.” The words are barely audible, and he presses the most tender of kisses to my forehead.

It takes every ounce of strength I possess not to slide down the wall like a candle melting in front of an open fire. I do hate him, but my body hasn’t gotten the memo. It’s drawn to him like oxygen to a flame. My blood thunders around my body as his lips dust my temple.

What started as a gentle ache between my thighs becomes a persistent throbbing, and it’s building to dangerous levels. Never have I felt like this before. I’ve dated guys, and I liked them all well enough, certainly more than I like this devil standing in front of me. But I haven’t craved anyone like this. Never been overcome with a ravenous need to have his hands on my skin. To feel him inside me. I’m so tired of waiting. Of being a good girl who always does what’s expected of her.

I want to live a little. To feel. To do something just because I want to.

“I know I told you I was saving myself for someone I was in love with.” I dare to trail my fingertips along the buttons of his shirt and am filled with boldness and excitement when he groans. “But I don’t want to wait any longer, Alejandro.”

He sucks in a breath, and the desire in his eyes makes me shiver in anticipation. “Don’t let your mouth make promises that your body can’t deliver on, Alana.”

“I’m not. You are my husband. It feels inevitable that we’re going to do this at some point. And I want to do it now.”

For an awful moment, I’m certain he’s going to turn me down—again.

“Fuck,” he finally growls. His hand glides from the top of my arm to the edge of my towel, and without any further warning, he tugs it open and lets it fall to the floor.

My cheeks heat as he studies my body intently. No one has ever seen me naked, and this is a man who’s accustomed to dating some of the most beautiful women in the world. I can’t help but worry I won’t measure up.

That self-consciousness makes me try to cover my breasts with my hands, but he takes hold of my wrists and pins them to my sides.

“Don’t ever hide your body from me, Alana,” he says, his voice low and gravelly and his hungry gaze melting my core.

His appreciation is enough to chase away my doubts, even as my heart slams against my ribcage.

He lets go of my wrists and steps back, greedily raking his eyes over my entire body. It feels like an eternity before he speaks. “You are fucking beautiful.” He returns his hands to the wall beside my head and presses his firm body to my softer one. Heat coils deep in my belly. The space between my thighs pulses with need.

“So fucking beautiful.” He seals his lips over mine, forces his tongue into my mouth, and kisses me fiercely.

The hard muscles of his body feel so good against me, and I whimper into his mouth, experiencing an intense flood of warmth between my thighs. Alejandro grinds his rock-hard length into my abdomen. Instinctively, I rub myself on him.