He came then, in a last deep thrust, his body rigid, muscles tense. She felt his release, felt him shudder from the power of it, and then she sighed, and sagged against the carpet, spent.
After a moment he withdrew from her and rested next to her for a few minutes, his arm holding her close to his side. And then as the fire burned low, he scooped her into his arms, and carried her to the massive bed where he slid her between soft white sheets.
“Sleep,” he said, smoothing her hair back from her face and kissing her forehead and then her nose and finally her lips. “You need your rest.”
She murmured agreement, snuggling into the impossibly soft pillow and smooth, cool sheets that felt so good against her heated skin. “Will you sleep, too?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
An hour later, Zale lay on his back in bed listening to Emmeline’s soft even breathing. He’d told her he would sleep. He wished he could sleep. Instead his mind raced.
Making love to Emmeline tonight changed everything. They were committed now. As good as married.
He’d thought he’d be uncertain, or regretful. He wasn’t. He was glad Emmeline was his.
But this hadn’t just been sex. It’d been more like … love. He hadn’t planned on love. He was only now starting to like her. Love was not part of the deal.
The fact that he felt so much made him just want her that much more.
In the past, sex was like exercise—a great workout and a welcome release, giving him a good night’s sleep.
But tonight he couldn’t sleep. Instead he was lying awake, seething with chaotic emotions, new emotions, intense emotions.
He did not want the emotions. He did not want anything to do with feelings, especially if they could trip him up, cloud his thinking.
He desired Emmeline, wanted Emmeline, would soon marry Emmeline, but he didn’t know how she felt about him.
Yes, she desired him. After all, tonight she’d been hot, wet, astonishingly responsive. He’d made her come tonight—twice—but could there be more between them? Could there be love?
Tonight kissing her, buried deep in her, he’d felt lost in her, felt lost in something he’d forgotten even existed. Light. Warmth. Joy.
She felt like something you waited for … something special, magical … like the feeling you got as a child on Christmas morning.
Baffled by the dark tangle of his emotions, Zale rolled onto his side to look down at her, her elegant profile barely visible in the dark.
He’d known for years she was to be his. He’d known since he was fifteen she was the one chosen for him. But he’d never expected this … never expected this overwhelming desire to keep her, protect her, not just now, but forever.
HANNAH woke up early the next morning in a very dark room, in a strange bed, feeling utterly disoriented. And then turning over, she bumped against a very large, warm, solid person and it all came back to her.
She was in Zale’s room, in his bed, naked.
Bits and pieces of the past night came to her. Guilt pummeled her. Why had she let this happen? How could she have let it happen?
Worse, how could she have enjoyed it so much?
But it had been amazing. He’d been amazing and last night he’d managed with his talented hands and mouth and body to sweep away her better judgment, as well as any inhibitions.
Blushing in the dark, she remembered how she’d practically screamed his name as she came … so really, truly mortifying. Hannah couldn’t imagine Emmeline screaming during sex. Couldn’t imagine that a proper princess would lose control like that.
Hannah rolled back over onto her stomach and pressed her face into her pillow, and let out a muffled shout.
“I can hear that,” Zale said dryly, next to her in the dark. “Anything you’d care to share?”
She pushed up onto her elbows and looked his way although the heavy drapes and blackout shades made it impossible to see. “I threw myself at you.”
“I liked it,” he said, shifting onto his own back and plumping pillows behind his head. “You did, too.”
“I know I did, but …” she gritted, throwing back the covers and about to leave the bed when Zale’s hand shot out, caught her by the wrist and pulled her toward him.
“But what?” he demanded, rising over her, straddling her hips and pinning her arms down over her head.
The air against her bare breasts made her nipples tighten and goose bumps danced across her skin. She arched against the pressure of his hands, which just made her nipples pebble harder.
She felt Zale shift, his hips sinking against her as his head dipped, his lips claiming one of her taut nipples, taking it into his warm, damp mouth.
Hannah shivered as he sucked on the sensitive bud, his tongue lazily flicking and then stroking until her hips strained up, pushing against him. His body was hard, his shaft long and rigid, the thick, rounded head pushing at the juncture of her thighs. All she had to do was bend her knees, open her legs.
And then she did, sliding her legs open beneath the weight of his, allowing his body to settle lower, the head of his shaft teasing her inner lips, nudging her hot, slick opening.
She wiggled beneath him, needing more but he didn’t push forward, didn’t do anything other than lift his head and move to the other breast, giving the tender nipple the same attention he’d shown the first.
Hannah panted and wiggled again, lifting her hips up to grind against him. The smooth silken head of his shaft rubbed up and down her opening, sliding over her clitoris and then down over her wetness. She shivered and trembled and wiggled again.
He sucked harder on her nipple and she nearly screamed out loud. “Zale,” she choked, skin hot, and unbearably sensitive. “Fill me.”
He didn’t need a second invitation. Using his knees he parted her thighs wider, and pushed against her entrance, stretching her open and sinking deeply into her body, which was definitely hot, wet, ready.
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.