CHAPTER SIX
Tor kissed Blythe like he was starving for sexual release.
Not like they'd just gotten together the night before.
They'd flown to Tapt Oyer together on the palace jet, which had been her excuse for meeting him in Boston.
His hands were everywhere, divesting Blythe of her clothes, touching her, ratcheting up her own desire to a fever pitch.
Never a very passive lover, Blythe returned the caresses and help undressing.
But when Tor started playing with her breasts, particularly her nipples, she forgot what she was doing and just felt.
Before Tor, Blythe had never had a lover who worked so hard to capitalize on her sensitivity there. He was enthralled with her generous curves and could spend an hour, or more, focused on her breasts, licking and tugging on her nipples until she came from that stimulus alone.
Before Tor, she'd thought that kind of climax was a myth.
She knew it wasn't now, but she wasn't in the mood for prolonged play. Blythe didn't just want a physical connection, she needed it.
Sliding out from between him and the door she headed toward the bed, walking backward. "Come on, Tor. I want you."
"I always want you."
The words were a balm on her wounded soul.
They might not have forever, but they were together now because they wanted each other to the exclusion of all others.
Tor had managed to get her naked already, so Blythe yanked the silk covered duvet back and climbed onto the opulent four-poster bed.
Nothing understated about the palace décor.
For just a second, it hit Blythe how much her life had changed since her best friend married a king.
Then all her attention was snagged by the gorgeous man in front of her.
Tor wore only his slacks, the fly undone. His sculpted chest covered in silky dark hair that ran down his trim stomach like an arrow toward the erection bulging against his trousers.
"Like what you see, min skatt?" he asked.
He'd started calling her that a while ago and she'd looked it up, wondering what it meant. Literally translated it was, my gold, but she'd learned it was like being called his special treasure.
She only wished she could be that in his life in a very true sense, but knew she could not.
"You know I do," she told him in a sultry voice no one else ever heard from her.
Not past hook ups or boyfriends. No one.
He dug in his pocket and swore viciously.
"What is it?" she asked, sitting up.
He looked furious. "I forgot condoms."
He'd been so enthusiastic about joining her, he'd left his palace apartment without grabbing protection. That was a lot more flattering than annoying.
"I can't get pregnant." Blythe blurted out her painful truth, feeling a release in the telling, even though she knew he'd take it to mean she was on birth control.
He stilled, his expression going from angry frustration to something she could not read. "You don't want to use condoms anymore?"