Fit for a King

by Diana Palmer

  She felt him arch slightly, and her lips parted on a soft gasp. She looked into his eyes, frightened at the first burning stab of sensation.

  His hands framed her face as he moved again, and she jerked a little. “Another few seconds,” he whispered, his voice soft and slow and intimate. He smiled. “Relax for me. It won’t ever hurt again, I promise,” he breathed brokenly, his hands bringing her down to him.

  He kissed her softly as he took her completely, and her nails bit into him. She started to stiffen, but she bit her lip and laid her forehead against his broad, damp chest and forced her body to admit him. There was only a small stab of pain, and then she sighed in relief.

  His hands moved on her, stroking her, doing impossible things, moving her, shifting her. He bent to her mouth again, probing it with his tongue. He took it, and his hips began to move, and she felt a savage ripple of pleasure that took her by surprise. Surely, she thought dazedly, she’d only imagined it. But he moved, and it came again. And again. She bit his shoulder, shuddering. He shuddered, too, and she felt his body surge powerfully.

  He lifted his mouth just enough to look at her. “Exquisite,” he whispered, studying her. “That expression, wild and tortured, as if I were hurting you. But I’m not, am I?”

  “No,” she whispered. His hand moved, and she cried out, biting her lip.

  “Don’t stop yourself,” he gasped as he increased his rhythm, his eyes stormy and dark. “There’s no one to hear you. Let it out. Make noise,” he whispered. “Make as much noise as you want.”

  His hands bit into her thighs, holding her down to him. Her eyes dilated, because she’d never expected that it would be like this. Her head fell back, and she gasped as he arched under her. His face was a mask of passion, tight and flushed, his eyes black as night and glittering, exultant.

  She cried out, and her fingers bit into his shoulders as she shuddered with unexpected, total completion, his name a hoarse sound torn from her throat.

  He felt her convulse, stunned that it should happen for her the first time. And then he felt the familiar stab of fulfillment racking him, and he cried out her name over and over.

  A long time later she wafted back to earth. Under her, his body was damp and shuddering in the aftermath, his hands protective now, soothing, tender. He lifted his face to hers and began to kiss her, his hard mouth so tender and cherishing that she wanted to cry. He whispered her name over and over again, his voice awed. He’d never experienced anything like this in his life. With Elissa, he’d attained heights he hadn’t touched before. Whatever this was, it wasn’t simply sex.

  His body still trembling, he kissed her closed eyes warmly and then her face again, in soft, searching caresses. She felt loved, cherished, and she smiled against his damp throat.

  He nipped her ear. “I felt it happen to you,” he murmured. “It almost never does the first time.”

  “My body didn’t know. I’ll make sure I tell it.”

  “Imp,” he drawled. He looked into her eyes and shifted his hips, his eyes hot and wicked when she gasped. “Shocking, isn’t it?” he whispered. And then his gaze softened, and his smile faded. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts,” he said quietly.

  She opened her mouth to tell him that she wasn’t protected, but his opened against it, and his hips rose and fell, and the pleasure came stabbing back in a rhythm that was already familiar.

  “Angel face,” he whispered softly. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, about how it would be with you. It was beyond my wildest dreams. It was perfection,” he breathed, touching her face reverently. “My God, it’s never been like that for me. Never.”

  She stared at his hair-roughened chest and touched it tentatively, liking the feel under her fingers. He stiffened a little, and she smiled at him. “You’re very good at this,” she said shyly, wondering how many women there had been before her. The thought disturbed her a little, and her conscience was twinging. He didn’t love her, she knew, but she loved him. Was that reason enough to covet this oneness with him? This one night out of a lifetime, when she could lie in his arms and pretend that he loved her? She refused to think. She leaned forward and kissed his chest softly. “You’ll have to show me what to do to make it good for you,” she whispered.

  “The mind boggles,” he whispered back, sliding his mouth softly over hers. “Come on. We’ll have a shower, and then we’ll go to bed.” He lifted his head, searching her eyes. “If you still want to.”

  She returned that intent look. “I want to,” she assured him.

  He carried their things upstairs to his bedroom and led her into the shower. For the next few minutes they soaped and explored each other and kissed until her mouth was swollen and his body was making new and urgent demands.

  “I’m not protected,” she whispered as he laid her down on the bed. “I should have told you before.”

  “I don’t give a damn,” he breathed. He was on fire for her, burning. Consequences didn’t seem to matter anymore, and they were engaged, so what the hell. “A baby wouldn’t be the end of my world or yours.”

  “How would you make love to me if you wanted a baby?” she whispered, her eyes soft with love.

  He smiled as he brushed her mouth with his. “Very much as I did downstairs,” he murmured against her lips. “As if you were innocent all over again. We’d be exquisitely tender with each other, like two people desperately in love. Like … this.”

  It was tender. And profound. He drew it out, exploring her body like some delicate treasure that might break with a harsh breath. Even when he began to take her, it was still gentle, their eyes openly cherishing each other, their voices hushed. When the tide came and washed them into the blinding heat of fulfillment, they were still looking into each other’s eyes, and it was a gentle violence, rocking them with exquisitely tender shudders and warm convulsions that were even more beautiful than those of wild passion.

  When it was over, she cried helplessly, and he held her, kissing away the tears, cradling her against his damp body.

  “You make it so profound,” he whispered shakily. “It isn’t even physical with you, it’s a thing so much of the spirit that it makes me tremble. I never dreamed of such fulfillment.”

  “You make love beautifully,” she breathed.

  “So do you, baby.” He curled her into his body with a weary sigh. “I want to sleep with you, Elissa. I never want to let go of you.”

  She cuddled close to him, savoring his strength, feeling secure and adored and totally fulfilled. At the back of her mind, a tiny voice nagged that it wasn’t right or proper, but she was too tired to listen.

  “Don’t hate me,” he breathed.

  “How could I?”

  “I took you out of wedlock.”

  “I offered myself.”

  “Did you? Or did I simply back you into a corner and take the choice away from you?” He lifted his head to search her eyes. “Will you mind if I made you pregnant?”

  “There probably wasn’t much risk,” she murmured shyly.

  “The way we made love that last time, there was most definitely a risk,” he said.

  She nuzzled her face against him. “Will you hate me if that happens?”

  “Never.”

  “Babies can create problems.”

  His arms tightened. “Babies are little tiny breathing miracles. Now shut up and go to sleep. I’m so tired, it’s all I can do to breathe, you insatiable little witch.”

  “I’m insatiable?” she burst out.

  He only grinned and folded her closer. “Go to sleep. If you’re able, I’ll make love to you again when we wake up.”

  She sighed. “What a delicious incentive to sleep.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  It seemed like no time at all before the sounds of farm equipment outside the window brought her eyes open. She looked down at King, smiling at his nudity, at the vulnerability of his powerful body in sleep.

  “It’s morning,” she whispered
in his ear.

  “Is it?” he whispered back, smiling. He opened his eyes and reached for her, his intentions obvious. “Are you up to this?” he asked solicitously.

  She pressed down against him. “I want you,” she whispered before bringing her mouth to his.

  He took a long time with her, despite his overpowering hunger, and it was late morning before he was satisfied enough to get up. He stretched grandly and looked down at her sprawled facedown on the bed.

  “You miracle, you,” he breathed. “Roll over. I want to look at you while I dress.”

  She did, smiling at him, watching him open drawers and the closet and get into jeans and a chambray shirt. “It’s even exciting to watch you put clothes on,” she confessed, laughing.

  “I’d rather watch you with yours off, angel,” he murmured, bending to brush hungry kisses on her breasts. “I want you all the time, lately. It’s all I can do to stop.” He lifted his head, searching her eyes. “You flinched a little that last time,” he said gently. “It wasn’t comfortable, and you should have told me in time. I’ll leave you alone until you’re sure it won’t be an ordeal instead of a pleasure.”

  “You’re very perceptive,” she murmured.

  “You’re very generous,” he whispered. “So eager to please me, to put my desire first. But that isn’t what I want. It gives me no pleasure unless you share it.”

  “Oh, but I want to give you everything, to make it sweet for you,” she said fervently. “I don’t care what I feel—”

  He stopped her tirade with his mouth, smiling against it. “I care. Come on downstairs when you’re dressed, and I’ll take you for a nice, comfortable ride in the Lincoln. No horseback riding just yet.” He grinned, and she flushed.

  “Okay.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, studying her over it. An innocent, and with all her inhibitions, and yet she’d given herself to him with wild abandon. She cared more than a little; he was almost sure she loved him. That thought was sweetly disturbing. Could she? He looked at her hungrily. All night, and still he wanted her. She was under his skin, driving him mad. Bess and his problems with her had faded to insignificance. Whatever he and Elissa had, it was something far removed from lust or infatuation. He wanted to take care of her, to be there when she cried. He sighed softly. What was he going to do about Bess? Or did he need to do anything, now that he was marrying Elissa? He thought about marrying Elissa and smiled slowly. She’d be in his bed every night, making magic with him. His chest begans to swell.

  She saw that look and smiled at him. “Don’t feel guilty,” she whispered. “I don’t.”

  “Don’t you?” he asked quietly.

  “Not in the least,” she said, ignoring her conscience.

  “Anyway, I wasn’t thinking about guilt,” he confessed. “I was wondering if you loved me,” he added bluntly, watching her flush. “Somehow, I don’t think you’d be able to give yourself to a man you didn’t love. You’re not the type.” He touched her cheek, teasing her face up to his. “Don’t hide it,” he whispered, finding the evidence of love in her face wildly pleasing, exciting. His breath caught in his throat, and he wondered why it should suddenly matter so much that she loved him. “That was why you were so uninhibited, wasn’t it?” he asked slowly. “That was why I gave you pleasure the first time. And you did enjoy it.”

  “More than you’ll ever know,” she confessed. “Do you mind?”

  He shook his head. “You’re very special to me.”

  “Even when we aren’t lovers anymore,” she began, her eyes wide and worried, “will you still be my friend?”

  That hurt. He sat down and lifted her across his knees, cuddling her close. “My God,” he ground out, his arms wrapped tightly around her. “You little fool. You don’t have some crazy idea that I was just satisfying a whim last night, do you?”

  “I hoped it wasn’t that.”

  “I’m going to marry you,” he whispered. “This isn’t a one-night stand. For God’s sake, Elissa, you’re part of me now.”

  She trembled a little at the urgency in his voice, at his warmth and fervency. She turned her mouth against his throat and kissed him. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I don’t want thanks.” He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, his expression both thrilling and puzzling. His dark gaze went over her slowly, lingering on her breasts. “I’m more old-fashioned than I realized,” he said unexpectedly. “If you ever let another man touch you like I did, I’d break his neck!”

  “Well!” she gasped, but his mouth covered hers fiercely, blotting out the world.

  “You’re my woman,” he whispered against her responsive lips. “You belong to me. We’re going to get married and enjoy each other for the next eighty years or so.”

  Her arms linked around his neck, and she savored the pressure of his mouth for a long, spinning minute until he finally satisfied his hunger and lifted his head.

  “Get dressed,” he whispered. “I can’t take much more of that without laying you down and ravishing you again.”

  She smiled softly. “I adore you.”

  “I adore you,” he whispered. He smiled at her, new to possession, new to that look in her eyes, that total fulfillment his loving had given her. It made him proud that he could fulfill her, that he’d done it her first time.

  “You look smug,” she mentioned.

  He dumped her onto the bed, looming over her to press a hard kiss on her mouth. “I feel smug. Now get up.”

  “Yes, your worship.”

  He glanced at her on his way out the door and smiled again as he closed it behind him. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d felt so pleased with himself, so satiated with happiness that he felt as if he could do anything.

  She dressed quickly, taking time to sneak down the hall to her room and mess up her bed—only to find that he’d already done it. She smiled to herself as she went downstairs, wrapped in the sweet illusion of loving and being loved.

  He was sipping coffee when she got to the kitchen, and his eyes when they met hers were dark with acquisition. His chin rose, all male arrogance in the smile he gave her. His eyes ran down her body with remembered possession, and they kindled like dusky fires.

  She tingled all over as she joined him, her mouth softening at his welcoming kiss.

  “Here,” he whispered.

  She opened her eyes to find him sliding a solitary emerald onto her ring finger. It was in a delicate antique filigree setting, and a perfect fit. She caught her breath, her eyes searching, questioning his.

  “It belonged to my grandmother,” he said, his face solemn. “You can give it to our eldest son….”

  “King.” Tears fell like rain from her eyes. She went into his arms, trembling all over. If only she could stop wondering if it might be guilt and a sense of responsibility that had led to this. She knew he didn’t love her, although he was fond of her and he did enjoy her body. But maybe in time he might learn to love her. She clung to him. “I love you so much,” she said shakily, her eyes closed so that she missed the delight on his dark face. “So much.”

  He held her, his expression one of contentment, rocking her softly against him. God, she was soft. Sweet. Deliciously female. She smelled of flowers, and he wanted to hold her all day. She felt just right in his arms. He smiled, closing his eyes.

  “Now, ain’t that pretty?” Margaret sighed from the doorway, smiling benevolently at both of them.

  “Look,” Elissa said tearfully, sitting on King’s lap to extend her slender finger with the emerald ring on it.

  “Glory be!” Margaret exclaimed. “We really are having a wedding!”

  “Looks like it, doesn’t it?” King said affectionately.

  “I’ll go tell Ben.” Margaret grinned and walked away.

  Elissa was just starting to speak when the phone rang.

  “I’ll get it,” he said as he set her on her feet. He walked into the hall and picked up the receiver, listened for a minu
te and took a sharp breath. “What the hell was he doing on it in the first place?” he demanded. “No, honey, don’t, don’t. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry. Listen, sweetheart, you just sit tight, you hear? I’ll be right there. Everything will be all right. I’m on my way.”

  He hung up and dug into his pocket for his car keys. “Bobby’s been thrown from a horse,” he said tersely. “Bess came in last night, and they went riding together this morning. He’s got a concussion and a broken leg, at least. I’ll have to go to the hospital, honey. Bess was pretty upset. She needs me.”

  Elissa just sat there, stunned, as he turned away without another word. She watched him rush out the door, on his way to Bess, without a backward glance toward the woman he’d just asked to marry him. She closed her eyes, feeling the tears start. If this was a glimpse of the future, she’d just looked straight into hell.

  Chapter Ten

  Margaret came back minutes later to find Elissa cupping her hands around a cup of cold coffee, a look of utter defeat on her face.

  “Where’s he gone?” the older woman asked curtly.

  “Bobby was thrown from a horse,” Elissa said quickly, looking up. “He’s got a broken leg and a concussion. King’s gone to the hospital.”

  Margaret whistled. “I knew it would happen one day.” She shook her head. “Bobby isn’t a rider, for all he keeps trying. Will he be all right?”

  “Bess didn’t say, apparently,” she faltered.

  The older woman sat down, staring at Elissa. “That young madam has too much time on her hands and not enough husband,” she said bluntly. “I’ve known both them boys for a long time—watched them fuss and fight and grow into men. Bobby’s too eaten up trying to compete with his half brother to be the man he could be. All business, even when he comes to dinner over here. Bess sits there watching him so sadly, and he doesn’t see her at all. I understand why he’s doing it, mind you, but Bess isn’t the kind of woman a man should treat that way. God knows she had a hard enough life, what with her family.”