Chapter Three #2
The challenging tone, and the arrogant way he had played with her hair, made it clear he wasn’t impressed by her class or her breeding—which only made his focussed attention more dangerous, and more breathtaking.
Theo Caras was a man who had earned everything he possessed, including his arrogance, unlike her father, and unlike her. Her title, her position, meant nothing to him. She was a woman to him, not a princess and the thought made this moment even more exhilarating.
He knocked back the last of his champagne, the strong column of his throat contracting as he swallowed.
He placed the glass on the marble terrace wall, with careful deliberation and a sense of purpose that mesmerised her.
Then he skimmed his thumb down her cheek—touching her again without asking her permission.
She gasped, his forwardness almost as shocking as her body’s elemental response.
She leant into his touch, unable to look away as fire blazed across her skin.
‘Although, I’ve never enjoyed a honey trap as much as this one,’ he continued, watching her reaction.
When his hand dropped away, she let out a sob of protest.
‘Please…’ she murmured, giving in to the urge to trigger more of these delicious sensations.
She’d never been touched like that before, as if he had a right to her body, her reactions. It was electrifying.
His lips quirked, but his gaze blazed with the same intoxicating awareness when he spoke. ‘Please what, Your Highness?’ The dark intensity in his eyes belied the mocking tone.
‘Please touch me, again,’ she whispered.
She was shocked by her own boldness, but she refused to be ashamed.
It had been so long since she had been touched with any affection.
Not since the last time her mother had hugged her, because her brothers thought it was too girly, her father despised her, and no one else would ever dare to lay a finger on a member of the royal household.
She knew Caras’ touch wasn’t affectionate, that it wouldn’t fill the hole inside her that had been there ever since her mother had left.
He knew nothing of her dreams, and she knew even less about his. But something about the fierce purpose in his expression made her feel seen, feel important, as if the only person he could see right now was her.
Not her title—like the people she met as part of her royal duties.
Not her worth as a producer of royal heirs to continue the Galecois line—the way her father did.
Not even as someone to protect them—the way her brothers did.
To Theo Caras she was just a woman he desired.
And there was something wonderfully liberating about that.
So liberating, in fact, she didn’t care that was all he saw.
‘Where exactly do you wish to be touched, Freya?’ he said, dropping the mocking title.
Her heart leapt into her throat, the sound of her given name on his lips shockingly intimate.
The adrenaline surged.
‘Anywhere you want,’ she said, not caring how needy that sounded, just desperate to have him take the lead. To make her feel alive, to make her feel desired and beautiful, to make her feel like a woman.
‘Are you sure you want to give a man like me that much power, Freya?’ he asked, but the warning sounded more like a promise.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
His fierce grin was as feral as the desire flaring in his eyes. He nodded.
She couldn’t control the sharp breath when he skimmed his thumb over her collarbone, then traced the fabric’s edge that barely concealed her nipple, stroking the swell of her breast. The caress was light but so sure and unhurried, and the purpose in his gaze so fierce, the ball of excitement in her throat swelled to impossible proportions.
‘Do you wish me to go further, Freya?’ he asked—teasing, tempting, tormenting.
She sucked in an uneven breath and bobbed her head. Yes.
He slid his fingertips under the fabric panel to curl his hand around her waist.
Her glass wobbled, his hold making the dress strain against the tape the stylist had applied to her breast to keep the bodice in place.
The drawing sensation only increased the need pulsing at her core—while the fear the tape would come unstuck and expose her breast only added to the ferocious wave of excitement.
She’d wandered into a minefield of sensations she couldn’t control. But what was more disturbing was that she didn’t want to control them.
‘Let me take that.’ He lifted the glass she had forgotten from her trembling fingers and placed it beside his on the wall. The soft click against the marble sounded like a gunshot in the quiet night.
But then he tugged her flush against him with the hand on her waist.
Her breath guttered out as she struggled to regulate her breathing.
He wasn’t asking for permission any more, but all she could do was moan her encouragement when she inhaled the beguiling scent of aniseed and champagne on his breath, beneath the subtle notes of bergamot and orange from his cologne.
‘How about I kiss you, Freya?’ he said, but it didn’t sound like a request, more like a demand.
She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Yes.’
But instead of capturing her lips with his, he bent his head to lick the thundering pulse in her neck, igniting a firestorm of need.
‘You taste sweeter than honey, Freya.’
He nibbled and sucked at the sensitive skin, until her breath was sawing out in harsh, ragged pants and the hot spot between her thighs ached. The friction where her breasts were flattened against his chest only added to the sensory overload.
‘Put your arms around my neck,’ he demanded.
Her arms were heavy, feeble—but somehow, she managed to do as he asked. And his marauding mouth landed on her lips at last.
He lowered one hand to cradle her bottom, and tuck her tight against him, until she could feel a thick ridge in his trousers.
‘Delicious…’ he growled, the playful tone gone. ‘You’re so damn hot I might die if I don’t devour you in the next two seconds.’
She shivered, stunned by the urgent tone—the cynicism and amusement stripped away until all she could hear was the need. Power rushed through her, making her light-headed. Her core clenched and released as she squirmed against the hard length, already desperate to feel it inside her.
Grasping his rough cheeks, she yanked his mouth back to hers as naked need consumed her and whispered against his lips: ‘Don’t wait another second, then.’
He grunted his approval. Then his lips slanted across hers, capturing her panting breaths, taking her mouth with an urgency, a purpose that only increased her need.
A loud bang made her jolt. But the bright shimmers exploding in the night sky and showering them with colour and light were nothing compared to the thrilling sensations as the fabric panel gave way.
His tongue tangled with hers, dancing and retreating, making her moan and shudder, her fingers fisting in his hair, while his thumb brushed her exposed nipple.
She gasped, sensation rocketing down to throb and gushing into her panties. She threw her head back, sucking in air, the fireworks cascading over them somehow inside her.
His lips found the aching tip of her breast. He circled her nipple with his tongue, the sensations in her sex winding tight, so raw, so rough she could barely breathe.
He captured the engorged peak, trapping it against the roof of his mouth.
She bucked against his hold, scared now by the intensity of the sensations gripping her.
She cried out, the coil tightening, until she felt as if she were on the edge of a terrible abyss…
Desperate to cling to that high wide ledge, while also desperate to plunge over and discover what was on the other side.
‘Yes… More.’ Her hoarse pleas came from a million miles away, piercing the vicious fog of pleasure he controlled so effortlessly.
He grunted as her fingers tugged the silky locks of his hair. She had to cling on. But his mouth kept working her tender flesh, her exposed nipple raw with sensation. His large hand gripped her thigh to hook her leg over his hip.
With her back braced against the cold marble, the huge ridge in his pants pressed at last against the aching spot in her panties. She writhed, struggled, to rub herself against the hard bar and relieve the pain.
He tugged on her nipple with his teeth, forcing her higher still, while his thumb worked the other tip, which also begged for his attention. The raw heat rose like an inferno building from the throbbing spot trapped against his rigid erection.
Another crashing bang had lights exploding all around her. And showering her with sensation, just as the exquisite pleasure burst free—surging and soaring through her—and wrenching her apart. She shuddered and shook, crying out, riding that endless crest, and plunged head first off the ledge.