Cinderella's Royal Seduction

by Dani Collins

  “When you’re ready,” he said against her ear. He kissed across her jaw and temple, the pressure light and frustratingly elusive.

  Before she consciously knew what she wanted or what she was signaling, her body shifted restlessly beneath his. Her inner muscles clenched, and the golden light from the lamp seemed to fill her. Possibility arrived within her, stoking a slippery heat in her loins, filling her with renewed hunger and yearning.

  “Yes,” he hissed. “Exactly like that.” He licked into the delicate hollow beneath her ear. As he withdrew, everything in her clenched to hold on to him.

  He cupped the side of her neck so she felt the pressure of his strong palm against her throbbing artery. She didn’t know which was hotter, his skin or hers.

  He returned, flooding her with such a wave of pleasurable sensations, she groaned. The arousal that had been banked while she adjusted to this new act spun through her, catching at her with its tendrils, dragging her back into the sharp tumble of acute desire.

  He thrust again, and she felt the strain in his back against her palms as she roamed her touch, urging him on. He kept the pace slow, giving her time to adjust, but her body knew what it wanted. The next time he returned, her hips tilted in greeting. Her thighs clenched on his hips, fighting his next withdrawal, making him hiss in a combination of pleasured excitement and disciplined exertion.

  She slid her hands to his lower back and lower still, digging her fingernails into his buttocks to drive him into her with more power.

  He began to move faster, setting her afire. Their skin dampened with perspiration. They kissed and kissed again, catching at each other’s lips while groaning in an earthly mingle of noises. Her reactions were pure instinct. She arched and pressed her tongue into his mouth, locked her calf across his backside and made noises of agony.

  With each thrust she lost a little more of herself, but she threw herself willingly into their erotic struggle. Their fight to reach completion together. Her climax approached, and he grew more ardent, as if he sensed it. Her entire world narrowed to the destination they sought, and suddenly it was there, vast and full of endless possibility.

  For one heartbeat, she thought the way he stiffened meant he was in paradise without her. Then a profound, crashing wave engulfed her. After that, she didn’t know which of them trembled or shook, which pulsed or contracted, only that they were in this maelstrom together. Thrown and tossed, battered and exalted. Both equally, utterly, gloriously destroyed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS RHYS DRAGGED free of her, the final caressing stroke on his sensitized skin was pure, velvety bliss that jangled against his nerve endings. He landed on his damp back, the blankets tangled beneath him, and listened to Sopi take a full breath and release it as a hum of supreme satisfaction.

  He lay motionless, a castaway barely alive on a remote island beach. The storm had left him weak and boneless, fighting to catch his breath.

  Beside him, Sopi was still panting. Her damp arm was against his. Somehow their hands found each other, and their fingers entwined in a silent reassurance that they had made it through to live another day.

  Warning signals crept through the fog of his recovery, though. He had somehow managed to keep enough wits about him to be gentle and ensure her pleasure, but he had been completely abandoned to their lovemaking. Lost to a pleasure that was even more exquisite and profound than he’d anticipated. Addictive, even.

  It was the novelty of being naked without protection, he assured himself, even as his hand tightened on hers, wanting to draw her deeper into his protective sphere. He closed his eyes and fought the sense of a rising force within him that wanted to somehow bind her to him.

  He should have realized her effect on him was dangerously intense when he’d tracked her like a damned arctic wolf following the scent of his mate into the snow. With the clarity of hindsight, he saw how he’d leaped on the convenience of her royal blood so he could have this—her naked body beside his own.

  Now they’d embarked on the making of a child. The reality of that hit him like a meteor from space, crashing emotions over him—responsibility, concern, pride, excitement and a fear of the unknown. Terror of the uncontrollable.

  He threw his free arm across his eyes, hand knotting into a fist as he tried to stave off the maelstrom of conflict. If he reacted this powerfully to the mere possibility of making a child, how would he cope if they’d actually made one?

  He had put himself in an impossible position, he realized, and there was no way to change it now.

  “Thank you,” Sopi murmured, stirring beside him. She rolled and bent her knee so her soft thigh settled on his. Her head turned into his shoulder, and her damp lips pressed against his skin.

  His nerve endings leaped and the spent flesh between his thighs pulsed with a fresh rush of heat. The compulsion to gather her up and roll atop her and consume her all over again was nearly more than he could withstand.

  This was impossible.

  Intolerable.

  But he couldn’t push her away, dewy virgin that she was. He might hate himself for giving in to his desire for her, but he would hate himself even more if he hurt her.

  He lifted his arm from between them and opened his legs so her knee fell between his own, cuddling her into his side.

  “How was a woman with that much passion still a virgin?” he asked in a voice graveled by satisfaction.

  “I was saving it all for you, obviously.” Her fingertips drew a lazy circle across his abdomen.

  His heart gave a rolling pound of thrill at the thought. He was too rational and forward-thinking to put virginity on a pedestal, but there was something deeply satisfying in the sense of promise in her words.

  He was in so much trouble.

  “Was it...okay for you?” she asked tentatively.

  He groaned and caught her teasing hand. “It was exquisite. You are.” He brought her hand to his mouth so he could lightly bite her fingers. “But you should probably go to sleep before I start thinking we should double-check whether it was really that incredible.”

  She hummed a sensual noise of amusement and moved against him restlessly, drying his throat. “How can I sleep if there’s any question in our minds?”

  He was still at war with his elemental self, but the primitive won again. He promised himself he would withhold more of himself this time and pulled her atop him.

  Her hair spilled around him, and he was lost.

  * * *

  Sopi wasn’t so inexperienced that she believed falling in love two weeks into a relationship was a realistic expectation. Even so, she was quite sure she was on her way. Rhys was such a remarkable man!

  The more she learned of Verina’s history and how hard he had struggled to return to their homeland, the more she admired him for all he had accomplished. He was earnest in his support of his charities and keen to develop green initiatives. He had a dry wit and a sharp intelligence, and he genuinely cared what happened to his country and the world.

  When they were in public, he gave her room to find her way while remaining a steady presence, always backing her up when she was unsure. In private, he offered romantic gestures like touching a rose to her chin or putting a ring on her finger while they stood on the palace wall overlooking the lake.

  And then there were the nights, the magnificent nights when they couldn’t seem to quench their insatiable passion for each other.

  How could she not fall for a man who did all those things to her and for her and...

  She counted the days again, heart tripping over itself and tripping up her brain.

  She was only a day late, nothing to get excited about. A lot had happened lately. She was handling the move to Verina and her new title and all the public attention fairly well, but this was a huge deal. It could easily be throwing off her cycle. She was often late when she was stressed. She certainly
didn’t feel any different. No nausea or sore breasts, which she knew from friends were very typical signs.

  Even so, her hand went to her abdomen and her eyes closed over emotive tears. She bit her smile, trying to keep the beams of happiness from bursting out of her like balls of sunlight.

  This had to be love she was experiencing. Why else would she be this elated at the idea of being pregnant? Obviously, love for her child was taking root in her, but a baby was pure wishful thinking at this point. No, this was more. This was a certainty that she wanted Rhys’s baby.

  Because she loved him.

  She waited a few more days before she said anything to him, not wanting to get his hopes up. They were dressing for their official engagement ball in Paris. It seemed a bit overkill when they were marrying in a month, but the party covered the fact that Henrik had come to a Paris clinic for surgery.

  When their maids and valets and assistants left them alone, she clutched her hands before her and watched Rhys check his bow tie in the mirror. He turned and tracked a gaze rich with admiration over every inch of her.

  “You’re stunning.”

  “I’m late.”

  He flicked his glance to the clock. “Fashionably. We’re the guests of honor. It’s expected,” he dismissed.

  “No, I mean...” She nearly ruined her lipstick, biting back her smile at the way he’d misinterpreted her.

  He actually swayed backward as comprehension struck. “Late,” he repeated blankly. “Are you...sure?”

  He wasn’t smiling, and her own smile faltered.

  “I’m sure I’m late. I’m not sure of...anything else. Sometimes I’m off if I have a lot going on in my life.” She hitched a shoulder, reminding herself that she didn’t want to mislead him, but she had rather hoped for more excitement. “I’ll...um...make a doctor’s appointment when we get back to Verina, but I thought you’d want to know.”

  She started to move forward into his arms. In the last days, they’d become quite comfortable in offering affection when they were alone, but something in his demeanor made her falter.

  “Are you...not pleased?”

  “No, of course I am,” he assured her. “But if it hasn’t been confirmed...”

  She nodded, cheeks feeling skinned. In her mind, this conversation was supposed to swirl with excitement and laughter. Her tentative words of love had been on the tip of her tongue. Now her emotions were crashing into each other like a ten-car pileup.

  “I don’t mean to be lukewarm.” He caught her by the elbows and brushed his lips against her cheek. “This is exactly what we want, but Elise had a lot of disappointments. Let’s wait to be sure before we celebrate.”

  Was that really what was going on? She searched his expression, but he avoided her gaze, moving to open the door. He offered his arm again.

  “We should go. I want Henrik to be able to leave the party as soon as possible if he needs to.”

  * * *

  Rhys kept his emotions firmly locked down, fearful of letting one out lest they all spill. There was a part of him wanting to scream with pride and excitement, but no. It wasn’t even confirmed yet, and a thousand things could still go wrong. There could be medical implications for Sopi. Why had he not thought of that before they’d had unprotected sex? How irresponsible of him.

  Then there was the guilt, wider and darker and deeper than any of those other emotions, especially when he looked into his brother’s eyes and accepted Henrik’s congratulatory handshake on his official engagement.

  Henrik’s words had been a public expression of his approval that Sopi was joining their family, but Rhys felt like a traitor, holding the secret of his potential heir in the shadows of his heart.

  Now Henrik was beside him in a more informal capacity.

  “You’re right,” Henrik said, watching Sopi. “She’s more than she seems. You chose well.”

  Rhys couldn’t argue. Sopi was fully embracing the woman she had been meant to become. She wore an elegant, one-shouldered gown in champagne silk with sparkling beadwork scrolling around her waist. Her hair was in a knot and adorned with sparkling pins. If Rhys stared at it too long, he began thinking of the silky feel of it slithering across his stomach and thighs—a distraction he couldn’t afford.

  He dragged his attention from where Elise was introducing Sopi to a founder of a charity and met his brother’s shrewdly assessing gaze.

  Henrik had stood to toast them and had been the first to cut in when Rhys had started the dancing with Sopi. Henrik had since danced with his wife and made the rounds to speak with guests, but he was pale. Rhys thought he should call it a night.

  “You’re both quite convincing,” Henrik said.

  “In what way?”

  “That you’re in love.”

  “That’s the point,” Rhys said, grimly aware that the infatuation he was displaying wasn’t nearly as manufactured as he had planned it to be. When he wasn’t fantasizing about having sex with Sopi, he was telling Gerard to check in with her, to ensure she didn’t need him. Or he was trolling social media, ensuring no one was saying anything that might impact her growing self-confidence.

  Meanwhile, she was taking on palace duties and public appearances like a pro, earning goodwill wherever she went. The one time she had prevailed on him for his opinion, she had just received Francine’s report on Cassiopeia’s. She had wanted him to confirm her instincts, worried she was too invested to be objective. She wasn’t.

  In every way, she was rising to the challenge of her station. He couldn’t be prouder. Now she was likely fulfilling their most important duty, and he didn’t know how to handle how vulnerable it made him feel. How guilty.

  “Elise is convinced Sopi’s in love with you,” Henrik commented.

  Rhys yanked his attention back to his brother. When their gazes clashed again, his brother’s held rebuke.

  “I can’t control how she feels.” And there, too, he was at war with himself. In every way, he wanted to pull her in, hold her tight, but there was that clear-thinking part of him that saw the peril in it.

  “Do you return those feelings?”

  “Read my diary and find out.” They had long ago perfected their ability to speak about private subjects in public and express annoyance with each other without it being readable on their faces. “Why would you ask me something like that? Here?”

  “At your engagement party?”

  “I don’t interfere in your relationship with Elise. Kindly show me the same consideration.”

  Henrik laughed outright. “We’re not counting the three years you badgered me to propose to her?”

  “You were miserable. I was concerned about mankind as a whole.”

  “I was giving her a choice. I didn’t know what my future would look like. Would I regain the throne and make her a queen? Lose all those investment gambles we were taking and force her to live in a shack? I didn’t know if they would accept her. I loved her too much to start our life together on a string of false promises.”

  “I haven’t made any false promises to Sopi.”

  “Haven’t you? As I said, you’re very convincing. If you’re not actually in love...”

  Rhys muttered a curse under his breath. “I care about her. Of course I do.”

  “She more than cares, Rhys. She’s putting her heart into this. Into you.”

  He knew that. If she was carrying his child, she was so deeply invested, he couldn’t quantify it.

  And even though Sopi wasn’t a needy person, she did have needs. He had promised to be her anchor and foundation and sounding board, which he was. He couldn’t take many steps back from that, but he refused to take further emotional ones forward.

  The resulting conflict was both a sense of walls closing in and a rack of tension, pulling him toward a breaking point.

  “I would prefer you focus on yoursel
f and your own wife,” Rhys said. “I’ll worry about Sopi.”

  “I have never understood your desire to close yourself off this way. What is the worst that could happen, Rhys? Elise is my source of strength. Let Sopi become that for you.”

  His brother could die. That was the worst that could happen. And the helplessness he felt at the prospect of that was more than he could bear. How was Sopi supposed to help him through such a thing? He wouldn’t put that sort of burden on her.

  No, he had to maintain what was left of his reserve for all their sakes.

  * * *

  Sopi somehow kept a smile on her face, but she kept looking to Rhys, anxious that his reaction to her possible pregnancy had been so tepid.

  He was locked in a discussion with Henrik. Elise was right. The two were very close. Sopi was both envious and jealous, having always wished for a sibling, especially one she could confide in the way the men seemed to confide in each other.

  She was also a teensy bit threatened by their closeness. Elise had found her place in that dynamic a long time ago. She knew how to pry her way between them and where her marriage took precedence over the fealty between the brothers, but Sopi came up against it like a force field.

  Until this evening, she had thought that was the source of this distance she sensed between them. An inequality of sorts. Tonight, she had seen the true problem. She might be in love, but Rhys wasn’t.

  Which turned her engagement party into a nightmare.

  The chatty woman monopolizing her finally took a breath. Sopi was able to say, “Will you excuse me? I need to visit the powder room.”

  On her way down the hall, she veered onto a balcony for a moment to herself. Her arrival interrupted a couple who broke apart with a stammer and a blush before hurrying away. Their clinch had been tame, but their deep embarrassment meant it had been a very private moment. That left Sopi agonizing for a similar emotional connection with Rhys.