Not Fit for a King?

Last night the tempo had been slow, leisurely, but he took her hard now, driving into her as if he was trying to prove a point, teach her a lesson. But Hannah loved the sensation and friction, welcomed his hardness and heat and the way he filled her, making her forget everything but him.

There was just him. Him and her. Him with her. Him forever with her.

She was going to come again but the sensation of it was almost too much. She felt too much, felt pleasure and love. Felt love.

Not possible, couldn’t be, but that’s what she felt. She loved him. Loved him completely.

She closed her eyes at the dizzying rush of white-hot sensation, the pleasure so sharp it was excruciating. She pressed her feet into the mattress and dug her fingers into his shoulders, skin pressed to skin as her control slipped and the orgasm took her.

“Emmeline.” Zale ground out her name, loud, hoarse, his powerful body tensing, muscles clenching, as his body emptied into hers.

Emmeline.

Hannah slowly opened her eyes, aware of the warm weight of Zale on her, and the strength of his thighs between hers, and his thick erection still hot inside her body.

Emmeline.

Oh, God. This entire time, it hadn’t been them, not him and her, but him and Emmeline.

Because that’s who he wanted, Emmeline. Not Hannah, never Hannah. Hannah was nothing and nobody.

Her eyes burned. Hot. Scalding. She tried to blink but couldn’t, frozen, shattered, stuck.

Stuck in a part she’d created, stuck in a lie she’d perpetuated.

If Zale found out the truth, he’d hate her. He’d never forgive her.

And did she blame him? She’d done everything he despised most—tricked, manipulated and played him.

Zale’s hand touched her cheek, catching a tear as it fell. “Emmeline, why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He gently touched the tip of his finger with the tear to her lips. “Trust me. You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

Trust me … you can tell me anything …

Her chest squeezed so tight her heart felt as if it would burst. “Everything’s good,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking.

“Then why the tears?”

“Happy,” she choked out, gulping air as fresh hot tears welled. “Just happy to be with you.”

Hannah squeezed her eyes shut as Zale settled onto his side and drew her close, exhaling in a sigh of utter satisfaction.

He sounded relaxed, sated, happy, while she writhed inwardly, tormented by self-loathing.

She was bad, bad, bad … so bad. What had she done? How could she have done it?

Horrified and ashamed that she’d sleep with Emmeline’s fiancé, Hannah pressed the soft sheets to her chest, regret filling her, making her conscience hurt and heart sting.

She should have told him the truth yesterday. Should have confessed her part in the charade, accepted the consequences and then gone home.

Or at the very least, she should have just gone home.

Instead she’d stayed, allowing herself to be seduced by her senses, and this impossible fantasy. As if she could be a princess. As if her life was a fairy tale.

Worse, she hadn’t stayed for Emmeline. She’d stayed for herself. Stayed for the most selfish of reasons—she’d wanted Zale. And so she’d taken what wasn’t hers.

And now the reality of her foolishness, and selfishness, was hitting her like a sledgehammer.

Zale stroked her hip, a slow, lazy caress. “We didn’t get a lot of sleep last night and yet we both have busy days.” “Do we?”

“I’ve meetings this morning, and you need to finish sitting for your portrait. Once done with that, I’ll have Krek give you a tour of our private wing and then hopefully we can meet for lunch.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t need entertaining,” she said, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand as it moved leisurely up and down her body making her feel cherished and beautiful. “I’ve got plenty to do.”

“I’m sure you do, but you said that you wanted to learn everything you could about me so I’ve arranged for Krek to take you on a tour.”

“I won’t be adding to his workload, will I?”

“No. Krek lives for this sort of thing,” he answered, kissing her cheek before pulling away. He left the bed and crossed to the window, to pull back the heavy drapes, allowing the morning light to flood the room.

Hannah blinked at the light, and rubbed her eyes before pushing a tumble of heavy hair back from her face.

Zale was still standing at the window, gazing out over the walled city to the sea. He was naked and completely comfortable with it. But of course he would be. He had that sinfully sexy body—big shoulders, rock hard stomach, a small, firm butt and those long, lean muscular legs.