by Millie Adams
Without thinking, she slipped out of bed. She knew where his room was. She had studied the plans to the palace, and she was familiar with it now. Had it committed to memory. She had a great memory; it was one of the things that made her good at business. And, it was going to help her out now.
With shaking hands, she opened up the door to her bedroom and slipped down the corridor. It wasn’t close, his chamber.
But suddenly she realized. That wasn’t where he would be. She didn’t know how she knew it, she just knew.
Where would he be?
His gym. That made sense. She had found him there that day, and the way that he was committed to the physical activity he was doing was like a punishment, and she had a feeling he would be punishing himself after today.
No. She stopped.
He wouldn’t be there.
The library.
He would be in the library. Somehow she knew it. He would be looking at the same book that she had been earlier. She could feel it.
It defied reason that she could. And if she was wrong... If she was wrong, she would go straight back to her room. She would abandon this as folly. All of it.
She would leave it behind, and she would find another solution to her predicament. She would use her brain. Her business acumen.
Right. And you’re still pretending that this is all about avoiding the marriage?
She pushed that to the side. And she went to the library.
She pushed the door open, and the first thing she saw was the fire in the hearth.
But she didn’t see him.
Disappointment rose up to strangle her, warring with relief that filled her lungs.
But then she saw him, standing in the corner next to the bookshelf, a book held open in his palm. The orange glow of the flames illuminated him. The hollows of his face, his sharp cheekbones.
But his eyes remained black. Unreadable.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you,” she said. “And somehow I knew I would find you here.”
“How?”
“Because you wanted to read the story. You wanted to see how it ended.”
“Happy endings are not real.”
“They must be. People have them every day.”
“Happy endings are not for beasts who spirit young maidens away to their castle. How about that?”
“I don’t know. We all have that story. Every culture. Some version of it. We must want to believe it. That no matter how much of a beast you feel you might be, you can always find a happy ending.”
“Simplistic.”
“What’s wrong with being simplistic? What is the benefit of cynicism? And anyway, what makes cynicism more complex?”
“It’s not cynicism. It is a life lived seeing very difficult things. Seeing tragedy unfold all around you. Knowing there is no happy ending possible for some people. Understanding for the first time that when you have power, you must find ways to keep it from corrupting you or you will destroy the world around you. Great power gives life or takes it, it’s not neutral.”
“All right. But in here... In the library, it’s just us, isn’t it? What does anyone have to know outside this room? It doesn’t have to touch anything. It never has to go beyond here.”
That wasn’t the point of what she was doing. She should want Matteo to know. She should want there to be consequences.
But she wasn’t lying to Javier.
Because suddenly, she just wanted to take that heaviness from his shoulders. For just one moment. She wanted to soften those hard lines on his face. Wanted to ease the suffering she knew he carried around in his soul.
Because he truly thought that he was a monster.
And he believed that he had to be above reproach in order to keep that monster from gaining hold.
She had intended to taunt him. To ask why he was so loyal to a brother who left him behind to be a babysitter.
But she didn’t want to. Not now.
She didn’t want this moment to have anything to do with the world beyond the two of them.
Beyond these walls.
Beyond this ring of warmth provided by the fire.
The heat created by the desire between them.
She had never wanted a man before.
And whatever the circumstances behind her coming to be in this country, in this castle, she wanted this man.
She had waited for desire, and she had found it here.
But it was somehow more, something deeper than she had imagined attraction might be. But maybe that was just her ignorance. Maybe this was always what desire was supposed to be. Something that went beyond the mere physical need to be touched.
A bone-deep desire to be seen. To be touched deeper than hands ever could.
There was something inside of her that responded to that bleakness in him, and she didn’t even know what it was.
Her life had been a whirlwind. Her loud, wonderful family, who she loved, including her father, even though he had wounded her as he had done. Parties. Vacations. Things.
The triumph in her business. The constant roar of social media.
But now all of it had faded away, and for the first time in her life...
For the first time in her life Violet King was truly self-made.
Was truly standing on her own feet.
Was making decisions for herself, and for no other reason at all.
This moment wasn’t about proving herself to anyone.
It wasn’t a reaction to anyone or anything but the need inside of her.
And she suddenly felt more powerful than she had ever felt before.
As a prisoner in a palace in a faraway land. Standing across from a man who should terrify her, but who filled her with desire instead.
And whatever this resulted in, it would be her choice. This, at least, was her choice.
She didn’t have to close the distance between them. Not this time. He was the one who did it. He wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her against him.
She shivered with anticipation. Because the pleasure that she had found in his kiss surpassed anything else she had ever experienced, and just thinking about it opened up a wide cavern of longing inside of her.
When his mouth connected with hers, she whimpered. With relief. To be touched by him again, consumed by him again...
Only days ago she had never met him. She had been living a life she had worked for. A life that she loved. And she had been missing this one elemental thing without realizing it. Had been completely blind to what desire could feel like. To what it could mean.
And she would have said that obviously if she could wake up tomorrow and just be back at home, back in her bed, if she could never have found out that her father did such a thing to her, then she would have gone back.
Until now. Until this. Until him. And she didn’t think it was simplistic. Because as she’d said to him, why was happiness simplistic? Why was desire treated like it was simplistic or base? Desire like this was not cheap, and she knew it. It was not something that came to just everyone, that could occur between any two people. It was a unique kind of magic and she reveled in it.
In him.
His mouth was firm and taut, his tongue certain as it slid between her lips, sliding against her own.
That sweet friction drove her crazy. Made her breasts feel heavy. Made her ache between her thighs. Desperate to be touched.
She felt slick and ready, for what she didn’t quite know. Oh, she knew. In a physical sense. But what she was learning was that there was a spiritual component to this sort of attraction that could not be defined. Could not be easily explained in a textbook.
Something that went beyond human biology and went into the realm of human spirituality.
It wasn’t basic. It
wasn’t base.
But it was elemental. Like something ancient and deep that had been dug up from the center of the earth. An old kind of magic, presented as a gift, one she had never even known she needed. But she did know now. Oh, she knew now.
His hands were sure and certain as they roamed over her curves. As if he knew exactly where she needed him most. He slipped his hands upward, cupping her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. And she gasped. He took advantage of the gasp, tasting her deeper, making it more intense. Impossibly so.
In fact, it was so intense now, she wasn’t sure she would survive it. He was not a rock. He was a man. And suddenly, the differences between the two of them felt stark and clear.
And, like everything else that had passed between them, just a little bit magical. That he was strength and hardness and heat and muscle. And he made her feel like her softness might just be strength in and of itself. A match for his.
Her world was suddenly reduced to senses. The texture of his whiskers against her face, the firmness of his mouth. Those rough, calloused hands tugging at her shirt, at her pants. She pushed her hands beneath his shirt, gasped when her palms made contact with his hot, hard muscles.
She lived in Southern California. She saw a lot of beach bodies. She had already seen him shirtless in the gym, and she already knew that visually, he was the most stunning man she had ever beheld. But touching him... Well, maybe it had to do with that chemistry between them. That spiritual element. But there was something that transcended mere aesthetic beauty. It was as if he had been created for her. Carved from stone and had breath infused into him, as if he had been created for this moment, for her to admire.
For her to revel in.
She moved her fingertips over the hard ridges of his abs, and when he sucked in a breath, all those gorgeous muscles bunched and shifted beneath her touch, and the very act of being able to affect him like she did was an intoxicant that transcended anything made by men.
She moved her hands up over his shoulders, across his back. Admired the sheer breadth of him. The strength inherent there.
The whole world rested on his shoulders. So much.
And she kissed him. Not just with all the desire inside of her, but with the formless, indefinable feeling that was expanding in her chest. The deep resonant understanding that was echoing inside of her. Because of him.
Because she saw herself clearly for the first time because of this moment. And whatever happened afterward, that could never be taken from her. This could never be taken from her.
He crushed her body against his, her now bare breasts feeling tender against his chest. Her nipples scraping against his chest hair. And she loved it. The intensity of it. That was another thing. She hadn’t realized it would be like this. In her mind, making love was something gauzy and sweet. But this felt raw. A feast for her every sense. The smell of his skin, the touch of his hands. The rough and the soft. Pain and pleasure. Desire that took root so deep it was uncomfortable.
A desperation for satisfaction and a need for the torment to be drawn out, so she could exist like this forever. Balancing on a wire, precarious and brave, suspended over a glittering and breathless night sky.
If she fell, she was sure she would fall forever.
But if she didn’t fall...
Well, then she would never know.
Both were terrifying.
Both were exhilarating.
And when he laid her down on the plush carpet by the fire and pushed his hand beneath the waistband of her panties, she felt her control, along with that wire, begin to fray.
His fingers were deft, finding the center of her need, stoking the fire inside of her and raising the flame of her need to unbearable levels.
Dimly, she thought she should maybe be embarrassed about all of this. It was the first time a man had ever touched her like this. The first time a man had ever seen her naked. But she felt no shame. None at all. Because it was him. And that made no sense, because he was a virtual stranger.
But not in the ways that counted. Not in those places that no one else could see, or reach.
He was a beast, transformed by the sins of his father. And she was a captive because of the sins of hers.
They both had big houses. Wealth. Certain amounts of power.
They were both alone in many ways. But not here. Not now.
So there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing to be ashamed of. When his mouth abandoned hers and began to move downward, her breath hitched, her body growing tense. He moved to her breast first, sucking one tightened bud between his lips, extracting a gasp from her, making her writhe with pleasure. He pressed his hand firmly between her breasts, his touch quieting her before he moved those knowing fingers back down between her legs. Teased her slick folds, pressed a finger inside of her.
She squirmed, trying to wiggle away from the invasion. Until he began to stroke the center of her need with his thumb, the strangeness of the penetration easing as desire began to build.
He kissed a path down her stomach, down farther still, and replaced his thumb with his wicked lips and tongue, stroking her inside in time with those movements.
She shivered, her desire building to unbearable levels.
“My name,” he growled against her tender flesh. “Say my name. So that I know.”
How could he doubt it? Of course it was only his name. She didn’t care at all. Not for anyone else.
“Javier.”
He searched upward, claiming her mouth with his, and she could taste her own desire on his lips. She wanted more. Wanted to taste him. Wanted to torment him the way that he had tormented her.
But he was easing himself between her thighs, the blunt head of him right there, causing a tremor of fear to rush through her. But that was stolen when he captured her lips again, kissed her to the point of mindlessness before easing deeper inside of her. Before thrusting all the way home.
The stretching, burning sensation took her breath away, but she didn’t want it to stop. Because this was what she had been waiting for. This felt significant. It felt altering. This was the new, this was the different that she had known lay on the other side of this. The transformation.
And when he was fully seated inside of her, she lowered her head against his shoulder, shuddering against the pain, but embracing it all the same.
He froze for a moment, but then he began to move.
She was blinded by the intensity of it. That sense of him, so large and hard filling her like this. It made it so she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but surrender to this thing that was overtaking them like a storm.
She clung to his shoulders, clung to him to keep herself rooted to the earth. Rooted to the floor. To keep it so that it was still the two of them in this library. So that no other thoughts could invade. No other people. No other expectations.
It was just them.
She didn’t have to be the best. She didn’t have to be better than her brother. She didn’t have to make herself important.
She simply had to be.
All feeling. No calculation. No striving. Just bright, brilliant pleasure, crackling through her like fireworks.
And she was back again, poised on that wire, with the endless sea of nothing and brilliance shining beneath her. She was afraid. Because she didn’t know what might happen next. But he was holding her, moving inside of her, over her, in her. And all she could do was cling to him. All she could do was trust in him, in a way that she had never trusted in another person.
But that’s what this was. That’s what it really was.
The giving of trust, sharing it. Because as vulnerable as she was in this moment, he was too. Because as much as she had to trust him to hold her in his arms, she was holding him as well.
And even as she felt so feminine, vulnerable a
nd small, she had also never felt quite so equal. Quite so happy in those differences.
But then, she couldn’t hold on, not any longer. He thrust inside of her one last time, and she was cast into the deep. And what she found there was an endless world of pleasure that she hadn’t known existed. So deep and real and intense.
He followed her there. His roar of pleasure reverberating inside of her.
And all the stars around her were made of brilliance and fire. And when she opened her eyes, she realized that the flames were right there. In the fireplace. And she was still in the library.
And Javier was still with her.
She could feel his heart beating just like hers. A little bit too fast. A little bit too hard.
She wanted to cling to him. But he was already moving away.
“This cannot be endured,” he growled.
He pushed his fingers through his dark hair, curving his muscular shoulders forward. And even as she realized that the bliss, the connection they had just shared was over, she couldn’t help but admire his golden physique, illuminated in the firelight.
“I didn’t mind it,” she said quietly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“You were a virgin.”
“Oh. That. Well, if it helps, I didn’t really plan to be.”
“You realize that makes this worse.”
“How?”
“Because I have... I have spoiled you.”
“I thought you said that was a promise,” she said quietly. “A vow, if I didn’t mistake you. That you would ruin me for other men.”
“That is not what I mean now,” he said, his tone feral. He stood up, and she went dry mouthed at the sight of his naked body.
“No. What do you mean? Perhaps I need clarification?”
“If you were a virgin, then it was meant for him.”
“It was meant for who I gave it to.”
“Did you give it to me? Or did you fling it away knowing what you were doing.”