Cursed woman. Why did she have to see things so clearly? “Are you charging for this session?”
“What does that mean?”
“Like a therapist. They charge per hour to listen to you talk about your feelings.”
“That seems like a waste of money to me. You could go out into the woods and just scream until you feel better.”
He looked down at her bland expression. “Is that what you do?”
“I have.”
He cupped her face with his hands. “What makes you scream, Zara?”
“The first time I did it,” she said, looking down for a moment, “it was after my parents died. I ran into the woods. And I knew I was alone. Really, really alone. So it didn’t matter if I screamed. I had to behave myself at the palace. I had to be a princess. But out there, I didn’t have to be anything. Nothing but sad. Nothing but lonely. So I howled like a wolf. I don’t know for how long. No one heard me, or if they did no one came for me. When I went back...”
“Did you feel better?”
“Not really. But I could breathe.” She traced the path of a water droplet over his chest. “So whenever I had trouble breathing, that’s what I would do. I was alone a lot. I found ways to make it bearable. Ways that it was an advantage.”
He had a flash of his own life. His own behavior. Parties. Drunkenness. Sleeping around with any woman who happened to show interest. That was how he combatted the years of isolation as a child.
An isolation that had been an illusion. Locked in a bedroom, in a palace full of people, you could never scream.
So he had found new ways to learn to breathe.
“Perhaps you could take me to your mountain someday and show me,” he said.
“Are you lonely right now?” she asked.
“No,” he said, and he found that it was the truth.
“I’m not lonely either.” She pressed her mouth to his, light, tentative. “You can touch me now. I’m ready.”
He didn’t deserve such easy forgiveness, but he would be damned if he didn’t take it.
He did not need to be asked again. He claimed her mouth, his touch anything but tentative. She said she was ready. Giving him permission showed that she knew what she wanted. And he would take her at her word, because he had no other choice. He had to have her. Had to have this. To chase the full, aching feeling in his chest that was so different from the emptiness that normally lingered there. Yes, this hurt too, but it was a different pain. One that he relished, one that he embraced.
He wrapped his arms around her, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, slick from the water. He held her tight, tilting her backward so that her hair was in the water again, making sure that he had rinsed all the shampoo away.
He brought her back up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes locked on his. There was something in them. Something luminous, filled with wonder. And he knew for a fact that he was undeserving of it.
But he would take it. And he would take her.
He claimed her lips again, delving deep, his tongue sliding against hers. He’d kissed so many women. More than he could count. More than he cared to count. But this was different. As though it were something entirely new. She was not simply another woman; she was Zara. She was wild, spicy, untamed. Like the land she had come from. He tangled his fingers in her newly cleaned hair, holding her hard against him. He was glad that this time they didn’t have any clothes between them. But even the water was too much.
He gathered her tightly into him, moving into a standing position, holding her against his chest. He stepped over the edge of the tub, carrying her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. They were both still wet, but he didn’t care. As he had done that first day, he laid her down the middle of the bed, but this time he looked. He looked his fill. From those full breasts, down to her slender waist, the gentle flare of her hips and the dark shadow at the apex of her thighs. Water droplets rolled down her skin and he had a fantasy of licking each and every one of them away.
Already, he was so hard it was painful. She made him shake. Made him feel as if he were the virgin. His years, his experience, melted away. Until there was no one else but Zara. Nothing else but this.