CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SIX
I NSIDE , THE HOUSE was every bit as charming as outside, with its high ceilings and wide corridors, and rooms that were generously proportioned and decorated in a manner that was comfortable without being ostentatious. It was not the kind of billionaire bolt hole she would have expected Sebastian al Morova to own, but she liked it all the more for its authenticity.
‘There’s nothing else on the island?’ she asked with a shake of her head, as she stepped onto the deck at the front of the house and looked towards the ocean, then to the mountain behind them.
‘There is a lighthouse,’ he said, ‘on the other side. We can hike to it tomorrow if you’re interested.’
Her stomach dropped to her toes. He was really planning to spend the time here with her. Getting to know her, per her request.
‘I—I like hiking,’ she said after a beat.
‘Do you get to do much of it?’
‘Not since our marriage.’
He glanced at her in that unnerving way of his, as though looking straight inside her.
‘I don’t get much space from the paparazzi,’ she pointed out. ‘The palace is my sanctuary.’
‘Of course.’
Except, there was more he wasn’t saying, more he was thinking, and she wanted to pull at that string and understand him better. Their marriage was a flashpoint though. To discuss it was to discuss its origins, and that led them to the king, which inevitably caused them to argue, and so she steered clear of the conversation.
‘Does your mother like it here?’
Sebastian’s lips quirked to the side. ‘She never actually came.’
‘But you bought it for her.’
‘From the minute I mentioned the island, and its proximity to Cavalonia, she told me how hard she would find that. To be close enough to see her home, but never travel to it. I’m better here, my love, where I know I am welcome, even though I do not feel that I belong. ’
Rosie’s heart twisted. ‘But you were happy in America?’
He eyed Rosie with something like the animosity that had defined almost every single one of their encounters. ‘We made do.’
She furrowed her brow. ‘You had friends, I imagine?’
‘Yes.’
‘You sure as heck made yourself a success.’
‘But I always knew I wasn’t where I should have been. This—’ he gestured to the mainland ‘—is my birthright, and more than that, it is in my soul.’
Rosie blinked away, frowning. When she’d agreed to this marriage, there had been many reasons, but in the back of her mind was the one the king kept hammering her with. He is not suitable. He doesn’t love the country like we do. How can he be trusted? He’d said it again, when discussing the possibility of Rosie’s pregnancy.
But Sebastian spoke like a man who cared very deeply for Cavalonia, who saw it unequivocally as a duty and honour to stand here as crown prince of their country. Or maybe it was pride, she reasoned. Maybe he was just the kind of alpha male who didn’t like having what he saw as ‘his’ taken away from him? Maybe it was to avenge his mother? In any event, he was here, they were married, and it didn’t matter how he felt about the country. Rosie was there to make sure he became the best prince, and one day king, that he possibly could be.
‘Do you also like to swim?’ he asked, turning to face her then, surprising her with the easy, relaxed tone in his voice. As though they hadn’t just been discussing Sebastian having been uprooted from his life as a young boy.
She glanced at the beach and realised, for the first time, how warm the day was. Sweat had begun to trickle between her breasts, but she’d been so focused on her conversation with Sebastian that she hadn’t even noticed. She nodded once. ‘I do laps a few times a week.’
‘Lap swimming is fine, but it is not this.’ He gestured to the ocean. ‘Care for a dip?’
‘A dip?’ she said, laughing a little, at the unexpected question, then sobering, as Sebastian began to lift his shirt off his head, revealing a tanned, chiselled abdomen that made her mouth go instantly dry. ‘I don’t have any bathers,’ she said huskily.
‘Look around you, princess. Who would notice?’
She paled. ‘You mean for me to swim naked?’
He stepped out of his trousers, so he was only in a pair of white boxers that left little to the imagination and did wonders for his tan.
‘I meant for you to keep your underwear on, but it’s your call. Naked is also fine.’
Her mouth opened and closed as she sought for how to respond, but the truth was, she was very hot, and the water looked so inviting. ‘I couldn’t possibly,’ she murmured, with true regret, sounding utterly regal and prim, just as he’d accused her of before this had all begun.
His eyes were laced with sardonic mockery. ‘Suit yourself, wife.’ He didn’t walk away though. Not before he caught her chin with his finger and thumb and tilted her face, his eyes boring into hers. His expression changed, sobered. Gone was any hint of mockery and in its place was something else. Frustration? Impatience? Confusion?
‘I didn’t want to marry you,’ he said after a beat. ‘At the time, I thought there would be nothing good in our marriage—it was just a means to an end.’ His gaze dropped to her lips before piercing her eyes once more. ‘And yet, here we are, and I find I can’t stop wanting to kiss you. I didn’t expect it.’
Her heart dropped to her toes. ‘Me neither,’ she said, but even as the words left her lips, she wondered if that was true. Hadn’t she found him impossibly desirable from their first meeting? She’d hated the way he’d addressed the king, and she’d felt Sebastian’s anger at his situation, and the demands being made by Renee. She’d felt that anger being levelled at her too. But she’d also trembled, in the very core of her being, with awareness of him as a man.
She was not surprised that now, being thrown together like this, sparks were flying. She just knew she had to hold on to some semblance of control. She would not fall in lust—or worse, love—for a man who would never love her back.
‘You can kiss me anytime you want,’ she said with a challenge in her eyes. ‘It doesn’t change the fact that this marriage was a means to an end, for both of us.’
‘Careful, Princess,’ he muttered, moving his mouth closer to hers, so she felt the air hissing from his lips. ‘If you tell me I can kiss you anytime I want, I might not stop.’
She lifted her fingers to his shoulders, warm from the sun. ‘Why do you think I’d want you to stop?’
His laugh was throaty and raw, and it pushed into her mouth when he kissed her, just as he’d said he would.
Her whole body exploded on a wave of need and suddenly, all thoughts of swimming flew from her mind, as did the whole concept of control.
She knew she should be smarter, wiser, should keep hold of some perspective, but the moment their bodies pressed together, his so warm and strong and nearly naked, was the moment she almost forgot to breathe, let alone think.
His kiss was like the beating of a drum, waking up something inside of her, something that had lain dormant a long time. He’d been right about the kinds of men she’d gone for in the past: men she liked but didn’t lust, didn’t crave. Men who were no threat to her. She’d avoided anything approaching a flame and had missed out on understanding what fun it was to play with fire. For surely that’s what they were doing?
His tongue lashed hers, his kiss an invasion in every way, but a welcome one. It was an invasion that made her toes curl and her breasts tingle. She pushed against him, needing there to be absolutely no space between their bodies, needing to feel every piece of him. She lifted her arms around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at his nape, as one leg lifted, and her ankle pressed into his calf muscle.
‘Sebastian,’ she groaned, when he stopped kissing her and dragged his mouth to her throat, his stubble—something she’d once told him, right after they’d married, that he should get rid of to appear more princely—a delight against her sensitive flesh.
He lifted her easily and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his mouth still teasing her as he stepped back inside the house. The walls were thick stone and therefore it was instantly cooler here. Only a few paces inside, he eased her back to standing, his fingers pushing at her silken blouse. Just as he had been in his office a few nights earlier, he was impatient, and a button came loose. He swore, offered her a look close to apology. ‘That was unintentional.’
‘I don’t mind,’ she promised huskily. And she didn’t. His hunger for her, so appreciable, was an incredible aphrodisiac—as if she needed it. He threw her shirt across the room before unclasping her bra and tossing it away likewise, his breath a rugged sound of relief as he stared at her naked torso, warming her with his gaze, rather than his touch.
‘Sebastian,’ she said, again, needing him to go back to kissing her, to touching her. Needing him. ‘Please.’
‘Please kiss you?’ he teased, reaching for the waistband of her skirt and pulling her towards him.
She nodded, giving up on playing it cool, on pretending she wasn’t burning up with need for him.
‘And don’t stop?’ he muttered, mocking a little.
She nodded.
He pushed at her skirt, sliding it down her hips and taking her underwear with it, so within seconds, she was naked, and even in the throes of desire, it occurred to Rosie that he’d never seen her naked—not fully. She didn’t feel self-conscious though, so much as excited, and when he took a single step backwards to allow him to look at her better, something shifted inside of her. He looked as though he had never seen a woman before, or as if he was committing every piece of her to memory. He looked as if she were his, and always would be, and even though she knew that wasn’t true—this was just convenient desire because they needed a baby, a means to an end, just like their marriage—it still lit something in the centre of her being.
‘You are beautiful,’ he said with a shake of his head, as if only just realising it. ‘What a gift the king chose for me.’
She ignored the acid in his remark, and she ignored the reference to King Renee, whom she didn’t want to think about right now.
‘My turn,’ she said, her voice thick, gesturing towards his boxer briefs.
His eyes held hers, latched with a hint of cynicism, but he shook his head slowly. ‘Not yet.’
‘Why not?’ She pouted.
‘Because when I am naked, I am going to find it impossible not to take you.’ She gasped a little. ‘And before I do, I want to taste you.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, her mind not computing.
Instead of answering, he knelt before her, one glance at her face showing the amused tilt of his lips before he pressed his mouth to her sex, parting her with his tongue to find her most sensitive cluster of nerves and teasing her there, right where he had in the car with his hands.
She tilted her head back on a long, all-consuming moan, her fingers tangling in his hair, needing to hold on for balance, because the feeling of his tongue brushing her sex was so intimate and overpowering that she wasn’t sure she could possibly stay standing. ‘God, Sebastian,’ she cried out, her body wracked with pleasure. ‘Please don’t stop,’ she said, her knees weak, her whole body awash with flame.
He didn’t answer; how could he? His mouth was otherwise engaged, and he took her instructions very seriously—he wasn’t going to stop until she exploded, and Rosie could feel that building again, wave after wave of pleasure spreading through her body.
His fingers dug into her buttocks, holding her steady, support she badly needed, and she closed her eyes as desire crested into satisfaction and she was riding the biggest, most incredible tide of her life, the explosion and release of this pleasure flooding her from every angle.
He held her as she came against his mouth, feeling her release, her body wracked with trembles, and then he pulled back, catching her eye and grinning before standing, eyes holding hers.
‘And to think, all these months I have thought you too prim to enjoy sex.’
She didn’t tell him that up until a few days ago, he’d been right. Her eyes dropped to the floor, heat flooding her cheeks. The self-consciousness she hadn’t felt earlier was back now, washing over her. ‘I—’
‘Don’t overthink it,’ he challenged, as if he instinctively knew what she was feeling. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
Her eyes widened as she stared at his nether regions and imagined taking him into her mouth.
‘God, not that,’ he muttered, then swore under his breath. ‘I meant to see me naked. What kind of misogynist do you think I am?’
‘Oh.’ Relief flooded her veins. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to. I mean, I just don’t know... I’ve never...’ She trailed off into nothing, but the look in his eyes when they met hers ignited something else inside of her. Something that had nothing to do with sex. She felt a spark and had to look away, because the intensity of his curiosity was too much to bear.
‘I would never ask you to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.’
The assurance did something funny to her insides. She had always seen the worst in her husband because of his volatile relationship with the king. It was easy to think him arrogant, rude, dismissive, discourteous and disrespectful, and those beliefs had shaped her whole attitude towards him. But like a crack forming under the pressure of a body of water, she felt something shift inside of her to see this side of him. To realise that he was respectful of women, that he was being—at least in this situation—respectful of her.
And she deserved that, she reminded herself forcibly. For whom she was, but also because of her determination to never be used and mistreated the way her father’s women had been.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured into the throbbing silence.
He shook his head dismissively. ‘This is not something you thank someone for, Rosalind. No one should ever pressure you into anything.’
Her chest hurt a little. She realised how much she liked hearing him say her name—her full name, which was unusual, because she’d been Rosie for as long as she could remember to just about everyone.
She took a step towards him then, compelled by an unabated need for him as well as pulled by something almost mystical, a hand at her back, metaphorically, seemed to guide her to him, and the moment their bodies collided, they were kissing once more, a tangle of limbs, fingers brushing flesh, mouths nipping and tasting, desperate need making them move fast. Sebastian lifted Rosie, this time cradling her against his chest and carrying her through the house to a room with a large bed in the centre and a stunning view of the ocean from windows on two sides of the room. She was conscious of the blinding blue beyond them, the line of the horizon where the ocean met the land of Cavalonia and then the sky above, the sun cutting a golden path through the room, lighting up the tiles as if with gold, and then she was conscious only of Sebastian, as he brought his body over hers, kissing her and parting her legs, teasing her with his arousal until she was incandescent with need for him.
He paused though, and on the threshold of entering her, broke away to grab a condom, which he unfurled on his length while staring down at her, his chest moving hard with each ragged breath.
‘But we—’ She frowned, thinking of the baby they’d discussed.
‘Not yet.’ He shook his head, and her insides seemed to roll. There was no time to analyse that, because with the protection in place, he was back, and this time, there was no hesitation. The same desperate hunger that had overtaken Rosie had slammed into Sebastian, and he thrust into her hard, with a guttural cry that filled the room. He stayed where he was, very still, filling her completely, then pushed up onto his elbow to stare into her eyes. ‘Okay?’ he asked, in a solicitous tone she hadn’t expected.
She nodded, incapable of speech. The pleasure she felt at being so totally possessed defied explanation or understanding. She knew only that she could easily become addicted to this feeling, and even in her desire-addled state, she knew she would have to guard against that.
‘You’re sure?’
‘God, yes, Sebastian, I’m sure. Please, just...please...’
He grinned then, and it was the sexiest grin she’d ever seen, enough to turn her blood to lava. She arched her back and he began to move, each shift of his hips changing his position, pleasuring her in new and different ways. Her hands ran over his back, cupped his bottom, held him, and as he moved, he kissed her, his tongue duelling with hers as he dominated her completely. Every sense she possessed was trained on him, aware of him, responding to him until she couldn’t think straight, wasn’t even conscious of anything but the sound of their bodies coming together and her cries filling the room.
Pleasure built and broke over and over again—it was as though he possessed some magical button that guaranteed her completion. She was almost hyperventilating with euphoria before he finally found his own release, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, before coming to rest on hers, his weight a welcome, heady sensation on its own.
They lay there for some time, with the light breeze from the ocean brushing over their naked bodies, their breathing fast at first and then slowing, but eventually, Sebastian pushed up onto his elbow and rolled to the side, facing Rosie.
‘Well,’ he drawled, reaching out a hand and tracing a line around her nipple with indolent possession. ‘That was a nice way to start the week.’
A week. She’d almost forgotten that they’d agreed to spend so long together.
And that he’d brought her to this island.
If she’d thought anything, it would have been how on earth they’d spend the time, but she found it hard to be worried about that.
‘You were right about me, you know,’ she said, tilting her face towards his.
He flicked her nipple, and she gasped, the pleasure like an arrow travelling through her bloodstream. ‘About what, in particular?’
‘It’s not...usually like that for me.’
‘Sex?’
Heat stained her cheeks. ‘Not that I have a lot of experience,’ she explained, not meeting his eyes. ‘But in the past, I suppose you could say I had a type, and it’s never been predicated on a need to...rip someone’s clothes off.’
‘Why not?’
But she wasn’t willing to discuss that. Her father’s affairs were something she’d had to process and make her peace with. She wasn’t sure she could adequately explain them to someone like Sebastian anyway, nor that he’d understand why she’d been so badly affected.
‘I was just more comfortable with that.’
‘With being bored?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I didn’t say it was boring.’
‘Yes, you did. Just not in so many words.’
She laughed then. ‘Are you fishing for compliments, Your Highness? Do you need me to tell you that’s the most fun I’ve ever had in bed?’
‘No,’ he said with a grin, and her gut lurched; danger sirens blared in the back of her mind, but she wilfully ignored them. Sex was sex, nothing more. ‘But a guy doesn’t ever get sick of hearing that.’
Rosie’s lips pulled to the side, the smirk hiding a strange little dart of pain somewhere in her chest. ‘I suppose women tell you how good you are all the time?’
‘Is that your way of asking about my relationship history?’
Rosie’s eyes widened. Had she been so transparent? ‘God, no.’ She sat up straight, dislodging his hand from her chest, pulling her long blond hair over one shoulder. ‘I’m really not interested in the women you’ve been with. I’m sure there were a lot.’
He was quiet, and from where she sat, she couldn’t see his reaction. Eventually, he responded, his voice deep. ‘And does that bother you, wife?’
God. She loved hearing him say ‘Rosalind’, but hearing ‘wife’ was somehow even more compelling after what they’d just done. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she felt a stifling need to be alone, to try to understand what was happening.
‘Not at all. Just like I’m sure you don’t care about the men I was with before you. That’s not what we are.’
‘True.’ His voice rang with non-concern. ‘But it’s natural to be curious.’
‘I’m not curious.’
‘Liar,’ he laughed, standing, coming around to the side of the bed nearest to Rosie and holding out his hand. ‘Come swimming with me.’
She looked longingly towards the water, imagining how delightful it would feel against her skin, how wonderful the sense of relief given the heat of the day. But even though she’d come to the island to get to know him, swimming with him seemed too intimate after what they’d just done. She needed space and the room to re-establish her boundaries, to reinforce her strength and independence before she had to face him again. She just wished her voice hadn’t emerged so prim and proper when she’d offered a small shake of her head and said, ‘Please, go on without me. I’m not in the mood for swimming.’