Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  “Until one night you flew too close to the flame and singed your pretty wings,” he murmured dryly. “Were you shocked?”

  “Oh, yes,” she confessed. “I didn’t expect it, you see. And I didn’t realize how vulnerable I might be.”

  “I did,” he replied. His arms tightened. “We were both holding back for different reasons, bottling up our passions. Inevitably, it was going to get away from us one day. It just happened to be with each other. And I’m damned glad about that,” he added curtly. “Another man might have taken advantage of it and seduced you for real.”

  She colored softly. “I can’t imagine letting any other man do those things to me,” she said honestly.

  He actually shuddered. “Don’t say things like that. I’m more vulnerable than you realize.”

  “Because she’s gone.”

  He paused for an instant, and when his voice finally came, it was cold and measured. “Yes. Because she’s gone. I did warn you that anything I did to you would be out of desire for her. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I was too busy kissing you.” She laughed gently.

  He laughed, too, despite himself. “Imp,” he muttered, tightening his arms and then loosening them to step away from her and look down into her quiet eyes. “You seemed to like kissing me.”

  She tossed back her head, living the dream all over again. “You have a nice mouth. Very slow, very experienced.”

  “Yours isn’t bad, either,” he murmured, dropping his eyes to it. He touched her cheek and traced her lips with his thumbs. “I’m sorry we’re so close to the house. We could strip and go swimming.”

  “My father would let Ludwig eat you,” she said with a laugh.

  He sighed. “It was just a thought. I’d give a lot to see you out of your clothes, pretty thing.”

  That was embarrassing and a little exciting, all at once. “Well, you haven’t missed much,” she said.

  “Not from the waist up, anyway,” he agreed too readily, and laughed at her shocked little gasp. “God, you’re sweet to tease. I’d forgotten that women could be shocked. Women in my set tend to be pretty blasé about sex.”

  “Probably because there isn’t a lot they don’t know about it.” She tried to step back, but he caught her long hair and held her there in front of him.

  “You’re nervous of me,” he murmured. “Why should you be? You could always scream for help.”

  “Yes, I know.” She tugged at his hand. “I don’t want to stand in for Bess, King.”

  “You told me that in the beginning. I haven’t forgotten.” He hesitated for a minute before he reluctantly let her go. “You sound positive enough about it.”

  His voice gave nothing away, but she thought he sounded a bit irritated. She tossed her hair and laughed up at him. “How would you feel if I kissed you and pretended you were some sexy man I wanted?”

  His blood surged. “I’d break your sweet neck,” he said without a second’s hesitation.

  She laughed even louder. “You see? Tit for tat, big man.”

  He made a swipe at her behind, and she barely sidestepped in time.

  “If you hit me,” she threatened, “I’ll tell my daddy.”

  “Go ahead,” he challenged. “I dare you.”

  “You ought to be shaking in your shoes,” she replied. “He’s got friends in high places.”

  He got her meaning and grinned, all his bad temper gone. “You know, I laugh more with you than I’ve ever laughed in my life,” he remarked as they wandered back down the beach toward the brightly lit cottage.

  “I don’t think you even knew how to laugh at the beginning,” she recalled. “You were a little frightening. All business and cold as ice.”

  “Cold on the outside,” he said softly. “Never on the inside.”

  That was a blatant insinuation, and she ignored it. “Are you and Dad going fishing tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we are.” He glanced her way. “Are you coming with us?”

  “I’d like to, but I’ve got to get in touch with Angel Mahoney and tell her I’m going to need another week on those new designs. Angel is vice-president of the Seawear collection, and she bought my designs for the chain of boutiques Seawear owns. I thought they were too strange for anyone,” she confessed, “but Angel thought they were deliciously outrageous and very salable. And she was right. I’m making all kinds of money these days.”

  “It doesn’t show,” he said abruptly with a speaking glance at what she was wearing.

  She lifted a haughty eyebrow. “I wouldn’t waste my exquisite wardrobe on a mere friend,” she informed him.

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Is that all I am?”

  “It’s all I’m going to let you be,” she said gently, looking away from him. “Would you like—”

  “Why?” He was behind her in the shadow of the house, his hands around her waist pulling her back against his tautly muscled body.

  “You know why,” she ground out. The warmth of those hands was driving her wild.

  “I can’t have Bess,” he whispered in her ear, drawing her even closer, “but I can have you. You can have me.”

  She trembled and closed her eyes as the tempting pictures rambled shamelessly in her mind. She gritted her teeth, because there was only one possible answer to the blatant seduction in his voice. “No.”

  “Tell me you aren’t tempted, Elissa,” he dared.

  She pulled away from him, taking a few seconds to get her composure back. “How about some coffee?”

  He hesitated at the back door, then sighed and gave in. He didn’t understand himself lately. Elissa was suddenly in his blood, and he wanted her out. He hoped he wouldn’t one day lose control with her. The thought frightened him a little. Yet he seemed to totally forget Bess when he touched Elissa. That was somehow frightening, too.

  He followed her inside, his face thoughtful, to find her parents waiting to join them around the coffeepot. He smiled at them, relieved to find something to keep his mind occupied. It was having a field day with memories of Elissa, her dress disheveled and pushed down to her waist.

  * * *

  The next morning, King and Elissa’s father set off before daylight. By the time Elissa and her mother were up, the men were long gone. Tina fixed a small breakfast for them and then set about her housework, while Elissa went down to the beach for a swim. Afterward, she set to work on her designs with a fierce determination to work off her frustrations on paper.

  It worked, too; she came up with some totally new looks, very innovative and sexy and cool. She took a break for lunch and some lazy conversation with her mother, and then went back down to the beach, a flowered patio skirt over her one-piece black bathing suit, and stretched out on her towel to scribble some more.

  The sun kept going in and out of the clouds. She closed her eyes with a sigh as it began to cool down, and she was almost asleep when a shadow fell over her.

  She opened her eyes to King’s dark face, his eyes narrow and speculative where the skirt had fallen away from her long, tanned legs. Her bodice had slipped because of the shoulder straps, almost baring one breast.

  “Sexy as hell,” he murmured, and there was irritation in his voice. “You look like a beached mermaid, and you’d better thank your lucky stars your parents are within earshot.”

  “Oh, promises, promises,” she laughed drowsily, only half taking him seriously. She stretched, and his jaw tightened.

  He unbuttoned his shirt, watching her the whole time, seeing how her attention suddenly became riveted on the hair-covered muscles he was revealing. When he stripped it off, her eyes widened on his torso, and he felt a surge of desire so strong that it almost knocked him to his knees. She liked looking at him. She was too inexperienced to hide her own longing, and the sight of it made him all to vulnerable to his own hungers.

  “I thought I might go for a swim,” he said huskily as his hand went to his belt.

  Her lips parted. “You … can’t,” she began, thinking of her
parents.

  “I’m wearing trunks,” he said. He unhitched the belt and slowly moved the zipper down. She was breathing quickly by the time he finally peeled the jeans down his long legs and discarded them, along with his sneakers.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked in a strange, high-pitched tone when he turned to her.

  “I like the way you look at me when I’m undressing,” he said quietly, meeting her hesitant gaze. There was no mockery in his eyes, no teasing. He moved closer, looking down at her for a long instant before he caught one of her hands in his and put it against his chest. The hard muscles surged against it as he breathed, feeling the soft, silent searching of her cool fingers against his heated skin.

  “My … my father?” she whispered, glancing down the beach.

  “He’s cleaning fish,” he replied, searching her eyes. “Your mother is cooking.”

  “Oh.”

  He eased down alongside her, deftly unbuttoning her skirt. He pushed it aside, baring the smooth, exquisite lines of her body in the bathing suit. His hand went to the shoulder strap that was already almost off. He traced it down the fastening under her arm and, holding her shocked eyes, unhooked it.

  “You mustn’t, King,” she said shakily. She caught his wrist, but it didn’t even slow him down. He stared at her bodice, peeling it aside with steady, strong fingers, his thumb blatantly caressing her swelling breast and making her jerk with a sudden spasm of pleasure.

  “Go ahead,” he murmured curtly, bending his head. “Lie to me. Tell me you don’t want this.”

  “What about … Bess?” she groaned, pushing at him.

  He said something harsh and explicit that she only half heard, and then his head was against her body, his mouth taking her breast inside the warm darkness, teasing it with his tongue.

  Her whimpers excited him. She didn’t know how to hold back, and that was delicious. He slid his hands under her, smoothing her soft skin, lifting her closer to his ardent mouth.

  She was trembling now, too far gone to protest anything he did to her. He moved one hand up her side to explore the exquisite softness of her breast while his mouth gently teased it. He lifted his head just enough to look, to watch his subtle tracing shatter her composure and bring a mist of tears to her blue eyes.

  “Don’t cry,” he whispered, bending to touch his mouth to her eyelids and taste the salty moisture there.

  “I hate you,” she whimpered huskily.

  He smiled indulgently. “No, you don’t. You hate being vulnerable. So do I. But we enjoy each other too much to deny ourselves this pleasure. And it is pleasure, isn’t it, Elissa?” he whispered over her mouth. “Such wild, sweet pleasure.”

  “But—”

  He covered the word with his lips, brushing her mouth open with lazy, expert movements that made her body burn. She tried to protest, but he kept at it, slowing his movements, deepening them, tormenting her with little shivers of sensation that made her wild. He’d never kissed her like this before. It was as intimate as lovemaking. More intimate. She moaned, the sound as intimate as the kiss, as revealing as her shudders.

  His free hand came up to her chin, cupping it, holding it firm. Above her, his body blocked out the sun, and his face was a stranger’s, hard and faintly flushed, his eyes almost frightening.

  “Yes,” he whispered gruffly, continuing the subtle torment of her mouth, watching it open, feeling its aching sensuality. “Yes, you’re ready for me, now, aren’t you? Soft and submissive … oh, baby …”

  His tongue penetrated her mouth in one slow, sharp thrust, his lips crushing down on hers.

  She cried out, her trembling hands clutching his hair, her nails digging into his nape. She arched, shuddering, her body in sweet anguish as he felt her need and answered it, his hand swallowing her breast, softly cradling it. Her tongue tangled with his; her breathing seemed to stop. It was the most incredible sensation she’d ever felt in her life. Like flying into fire. Burning up. She was trembling all over and she couldn’t stop, totally vulnerable and powerless to hide it from him.

  She began to cry, tears rolling down to their feverishly joined mouths, sobs tearing from her throat, and still she clung, arching her body toward his hand.

  “Elissa,” he whispered in a tone he’d never used—achingly tender, almost loving.

  He moved completely onto her shaking body, his weight exquisitely satisfying, his mouth tender now, his hands … He was doing something to her bodice, and then she felt his chest against her bare breasts, the hair on it tickling, the warm muscles gently spreading her swollen softness against them.

  “Hold on tight,” he whispered at her lips. “Hold me.”

  She couldn’t stop crying. She buried her lips in his hot throat, shuddering under his weight, devastated by the feel of his body in such intimacy. He was aroused, and she felt that, too, and moaned.

  “Sweet,” he whispered at her ear, his fingers biting into her back. “Sweet, sweet Elissa!”

  She bit his shoulder, a helpless reaction that she didn’t even understand, and made a sound in her throat that curled his toes.

  “Shh,” he murmured. His fingers came to her cheek and soothed it, smoothing back her damp hair. His hand slid down to her waist and caressed it gently, while he whispered to her, tender little encouragements to relax, to lie still, to be quiet.

  By the time she stopped shaking and could feel his taut body relaxing and losing its frightening hardness, her face was drenched in tears.

  He rolled beside her then, still holding her, and onto his back. He pillowed her head on his shoulder, his arms betraying a fine tremor, while he stared blankly up at the sky, where sea gulls dived and called to each other against the gray clouds.

  “I have to leave,” he said after a minute, his voice harsh. “We can’t go on like this any longer.”

  She knew that instinctively. He’d gone almost too far to stop, and so had she. She wasn’t thinking anymore. Her body had a will of its own, too strong to fight. She closed her eyes and felt that she’d die if she couldn’t have him just once.

  “I know,” she whispered. She sat up, her breasts swollen and slightly red from the pressure of his lips.

  “Oh, baby,” he breathed, looking as she covered them, his eyes blazing. “I could look at you forever.”

  “Don’t.” She closed her eyes, and he sat up, too, fastening the straps for her with hands that were a little unsteady.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” he confessed, forcing her to look at him. “I want you to the point of madness. You, Elissa. Not Bess.” He looked down at her shoulders, delighting in their creamy perfection. “I don’t understand why I feel this way, but if I don’t have you, I think I’ll die.”

  She understood that, because she felt the same way. “I want you just as much,” she said quietly. “But afterward, I’ll hate you,” she added, looking up at him. “All those years of conditioning don’t just vanish. I’ll hate you, and myself, and I don’t know how I’ll live with it. But,” she confessed shyly, looking at his chest, “I don’t know how I’ll live without it.”

  He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. His face was serious now, intent. “Come back to Oklahoma with me.”

  She moved restlessly, frightened of what they were discussing.

  “Come with me,” he repeated gently. He tilted her eyes up to his. “I promise I won’t make you pregnant. I can’t stop what’s going to happen, but I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

  “No, I … I’ll do that,” she faltered. She looked toward the sea. “But how will we explain to my parents that I’m going back with you?”

  He sighed wearily and touched her hair. “If it’s any consolation, it bothers me, too.” His fingers trailed down her cheek to her mouth, and he stared at it until her lips parted. “We’ll tell them we may be getting engaged, and you’re to stay with my family.”

  She looked up at him with stunned delight in her eyes, and the sight of it made him suddenly p
ossessive. He jerked her against him.

  “The hell with it—let’s get married,” he said suddenly. “I can’t have Bess, and I’ve got to have you. Let’s do it by the book.”

  She almost screamed “Yes!” at him, but she held back, sobered by the certainty that Bess would surely find some way to get to him eventually. It wouldn’t do for Elissa to marry him and create even more problems. No matter how much it hurt, she was going to have to sink her pride and principles and give him the physical ease they both ached for. She loved him. If she had nothing else, she could have this. She could belong to him for a few ecstatic days, and then she would have to pay the piper. Somehow she’d survive the future. She and her memories of him.

  “I won’t marry you,” she whispered gently. “But I’ll go with you.”

  He frowned. “I don’t mind—”

  She put her fingers against his mouth. “You would, someday. Marriage should be a total commitment, a sacred thing, not just a legalization of desire. I hate what I feel for you, I hate what I’m going to do, but I think we’d regret marriage a lot more.”

  “It would ease your conscience afterward,” he said tersely.

  “And destroy yours,” she countered. “Bess may … may be free someday. How would you feel if you were tied to me by then?”

  His grimace gave her the answer. “It isn’t fair, asking this of you.”

  “Life isn’t fair sometimes,” she said with a sigh, fighting tears. She looked up at him with the anguish of love in every line of her face. “Oh, King,” she whispered softly, “I want you, too.”

  His hands tightened on her arms. “Come to see the ranch,” he said, feeling guilty but unable to stop himself. “Just that. Maybe we can fight it.”

  That gave her a little hope. It would make it easier to explain to her parents if she wasn’t definite about things. She smiled. “Okay.”

  He loved the way she smiled. Her eyes brightened, her face relaxed, she looked … beautiful. She was beautiful, inside and out. His body made an emphatic statement about its feelings for her, and he laughed in spite of himself.