‘You don’t want that,’ he said roughly. ‘You don’t know what you’re—’
‘I know exactly what I’m offering.’ She sounded almost...cool. As if she was the one with the control here, not him. ‘And I mean it, too. You can have me, all of me, for as long as you want, doing anything you want. I give you permission right now. All I want in return is for you to be honest with me.’
Her shoulders beneath his hand felt narrow and fragile, and yet the heat coming off her... She was hotter than the fire in front of them. And she smelled of sex and sin and all the things he’d denied himself. All the things he could have right now in the privacy of his own bedroom. No one to watch him. No one to see if he let himself be just a man for a few hours. Just for tonight. Just with her. She was his wife, after all. It was allowed.
Except she wouldn’t allow it unless he gave her the truth. He hadn’t expected her to want to know. He hadn’t expected her to be interested. What he’d expected was her complete surrender, the way she’d surrendered to him in the library that night. The way she’d surrendered out in the pavilion overlooking the sea, letting him scoop her into his arms.
He hadn’t expected her to question him or to hold out when he’d told her not to. He hadn’t expected her to push him.
The predator he’d once been growled low and hungry, liking this challenge to his authority. Liking her determination too, because he’d never been a fan of a pushover. He preferred women who knew what they wanted and weren’t afraid to say it. And it had been a long time since anyone had challenged him like this, because no one challenged the King.
Except, clearly, his queen.
‘Why are you so interested?’ He brushed aside the silvery mass of her hair, baring her nape before bending and pressing a kiss there. ‘I’ve given you the answer to your question.’
She shivered. ‘What you gave me was an excuse. And now you’re making this into a big deal.’
She’s not wrong.
He pressed another kiss to the top of her spine, inhaling the sweet scent of her body. His hunger was becoming more and more difficult to contain. The restraints he’d put on himself were starting to fray. If he hadn’t already given himself permission, it might have worried him, but he had given himself permission, and now all he felt was impatience.
Yes, he was making this into a big deal. What did it matter if she knew that she was the reason he’d kept his distance this week? It gave her a certain power over him that he was reluctant to let her have but, whether she knew it yet or not, she was already using that power over him right now, right here, in this room. And it was working.
Cassius had never taken a woman without permission, even when he’d been at his worst, and he certainly wasn’t about to start now, so he murmured in her ear, ‘Why did I change my mind that night? Why did I keep my distance all week? I think you know why already, little one.’
He took hold of the zip of her gown. ‘It was you. I changed my mind because of you. Because I want you. Because a good king is controlled and measured in all things and you make me forget that. You make me remember who I used to be and I cannot have that.’
Slowly he began to draw down the zip, the silvery fabric parting to reveal silky pale skin and the elegant curve of her back. She made no move to stop him, but he could feel her tremble. ‘But...why? Why can’t you remember who you used to be? What’s so bad about that?’
He didn’t want to get into that. Didn’t want to tell her the bitter truth about himself and how flawed he was. How he’d sent his own brother, his twin, to his death.
He never wanted to tell anyone about that.
So he unzipped her gown all the way and pushed it from her body, letting it fall at her feet in a pool of glittering wine-soaked fabric, leaving her wearing nothing but lacy underwear and silver high heels.
‘Cassius,’ she murmured, her voice sounding slightly uncertain.
He put his hands on her hips, drawing her back against his body and holding her there. ‘Not now,’ he said quietly in her ear. ‘I gave you what you wanted. It’s my turn now.’ Then he turned his head, brushing his mouth over the sensitive place between her shoulder and neck before biting her there lightly.
She gasped, so he bit her again, sliding his hands slowly and with care up her sides and then back down again, tracing the glorious feminine shape of her.
Delicate and finely made, his queen. She hadn’t yet become sharp and rigid and unbending, as he had. She was still hot and soft, like candle wax melting so beautifully under his touch. There was passion in his bride, so much of it, and she was going to give it all to him.
It was a gift, and he knew it. And not just her passion, but her trust too. Anything, she’d told him. He could do anything to her and she’d let him....
He nipped her again, gently, then dropped to his knees behind her, pressing kisses down her spine as his hands went to her hips, his fingers slipping under the waistband of her knickers. She gave a trembling sigh as he eased them down her legs to her ankles, helping her to step out of them and the miles of tulle of her gown. Then he swept the clothing aside so she stood free and unencumbered, naked but for the sexy silver heels.
She began to turn, but he gripped her, keeping her right where she was. ‘No. Stay still.’
Then he ran his palms down the outsides of her thighs to her knees, and then down further, tracing her calves and then her ankles. He could hear her breathing, fast and erratic, and she kept shifting on her feet. He stroked her again, from her ankles up to her hips then back down again, glorying in the feel of her skin. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman...
He frowned at her feet and the backs of her heels where the leather of her shoes had obviously rubbed, turning the skin red. ‘Are your feet sore?’
‘Only a little,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m not...used to heels.’
Another reminder if he needed one that tonight must have been a nightmare for her, and that he’d let it happen.
But he’d fix it. Right now, right here, he’d make it better, the way he used to, by giving her the only good thing he was capable of: pleasure.