CHAPTER THREE
H ER FINGERS HAD gone cold. She noticed because his hand was hot. His firm clasp seemed to envelop her entire being as he drew her to stand. She felt lifted off the floor, as though she floated behind him as he led her down the hall.
To her room.
He paused in the hall where an open door looked into an empty bedroom.
“Use it if you want to. I’ll wake you in the morning when Vijay arrives.”
She started to walk through, kind of in a daze, but halted belatedly as his words hit her ears. Her equilibrium teetered.
“If I want to?”
Oh, don’t , she warned herself. This man was dangerous. Maybe not violent, but he possessed the sort of power that could destroy what was left of her free will and peace of mind.
“I want this night with you, Lexi. I want you .” His voice was quiet, yet it reverberated enough to make her cells quiver. “You want me, too.”
A painful sense of exposure made her feel naked and obvious. She tried to reassemble her inner defenses, but it was too late. She already knew he’d breached them. So did he.
“But this is not a quid pro quo.” The sea of his eyes roiled with the same frustrated conflict she’d seen on the dance floor. He was exerting supreme control over himself, but it took effort for him to leash his most barbaric instincts—which he had in abundance.
Recognizing that atavistic side of him should have terrified her. On some distant plane of consciousness, it did. Another part responded to that wolfish power that wanted to run her to ground, mostly because she already knew he didn’t want to kill her. He wanted to mate .
It was such a wild, instinctual knowledge, she felt drunk on it. Petrified, yet excited.
“If I go in here, you won’t follow me?” She set her hands behind her against the doorjamb, telling herself to step inside and close the door.
Make the smart choice, Lexi.
“I will not. This is your decision.”
He braced his hand above her head, as though grasping at the only thing that would keep him from tipping into the room. He stepped close enough she had to tilt her chin up to hold his gaze. Her heart was going a mile a minute.
“Sleep alone or come to my room where you won’t get much sleep at all,” he clarified thickly.
Raw electricity pulsed through her torso, out to her limbs.
He wasn’t touching her, but she felt compressed by his wide presence. Squeezed into making a decision. Move into the bedroom or step into the hall. Reject him or abandon herself.
“Are you trying to force me to make the decision for both of us? So you can say I seduced you?”
“You seduced me the moment you looked at me.”
Same. She swallowed.
“The whole world already saw us together. Things will be said regardless.” His gaze traveled all over her face, as though memorizing its contours. “Go inside and close the door. It’s the best thing for both of us. I’ll only hate you a little for it,” he added with a sardonic curl of his lip.
A tiny whimper throbbed in her throat. Being hated didn’t bother her. Or, rather, she’d grown numb to it. And he was joking. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her. She didn’t feel a need to appease him and make him like her. No, this yearning went deeper than that. She kept thinking of him saying she’d seen the man in him.
She had the sense he saw the woman in her. He wasn’t staring at her chest. He was looking into her eyes. He wasn’t sneering at her sordid history. He had asked her to tell him about it and wanted her in spite of it. She wanted what he was really offering her: acceptance.
“I’ll hate myself either way,” she acknowledged. “What’s one more night?”
A growling noise resounded from his chest. Disapproval? Agreement?
He leaned closer. His free hand cupped her throat above the collar of silk, so she became ultra-aware of her quickened pulse as it thumped against his palm. Her breath stuttered.
He nuzzled the corner of her mouth with restless lips, sharpening the yearning within her to a razor’s edge. Her hands were trapped in the small of her back as he used his weight to press her into the doorjamb. The wool of his trousers abraded the silk of her gown, shifting the slit open so she felt the coarse fabric against her inner thigh.
She tried to catch her breath, but her breasts were crushed by his chest. A small, helpless sigh escaped her, parting her lips. Her mouth wanted to find his. He was toying with her, though. Touching soft, soft kisses to her chin and the indent of her upper lip and beneath the pout of her lower one.
Her lips stung with anticipation as he teased her. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she flicked out her tongue, striking against the smooth flesh of his bottom lip.
With a gruff noise, he angled his mouth across hers, smothering her small cry of surprise as he swept her into a stark, untamed place. Colors shot behind her closed eyelids.
In an instant, she was both trapped and utterly free. Soaring. There was a vague discomfort at the back of her head where it was pressed to uneven wood, but she was far more conscious of the hardness against her abdomen, his arousal unmistakable despite the layers of their clothes.
“This is what you want?” His mouth roamed across her cheek and his teeth lightly clamped near the stud in her ear. Every hair on her body stood up.
She shouldn’t want this. Of the many things she wanted, above all she wanted to feel safe. This man was not safe. He wouldn’t hurt her. She was as sure about that as she could be, but he wasn’t promising more than a few hours of pleasure. Her instincts for self-preservation, honed to a fine point by a lifetime of dealing with users and sycophants, were utterly failing her where he was concerned. She could feel herself succumbing to him because she was unwilling to fight herself.
One night, she kept repeating to herself. One night of pleasure. Of forgetting. She was entitled, wasn’t she?
It wouldn’t be enough. She already knew that. She wanted to know him more than physically. She wanted to know him intimately—even though she had the sense he would remain an enigma his whole life, never allowing anyone to really know him.
Everything about their coming together was tragically ill-advised, but her desire to be in his orbit, to feel his touch and hold his attention and be his for even a very short while, was too tempting to resist.
With a small shudder, she let go of doubt and worry about repercussions and surrendered to the inevitable. “Yes.”
He lifted his head and stepped back. “Go to my room, then.”
Her stomach was full of butterflies that soared into her chest. She led him to the end of the hall on shaking legs, hyperaware of his heavy steps behind her.
His room was extravagantly beautiful. The ceiling gleamed with copper tiles that glowed like a sunset above the wide, turned-down bed. Frothy sheers over solid drapes covered the tall windows. A thickly loomed area rug cushioned her step, making the click of the door lock seem overly loud.
She was staring at the bed, mouth dry, when he came up behind her. He swept her hair to the front of her shoulder. The snug collar of her gown eased as he released its two buttons.
“I don’t...do this,” she said, voice unsteady.
He paused in unhooking the clasp above the zip near her tailbone. “Have one-night stands? Or have sex? You’re not a virgin.”
“I don’t have casual sex.” She rarely had sex. Her attempts at relationships always fizzled. Too many men were trophy hunters or manipulators, but that was why Magnus appealed to her so much. He didn’t want anything from her but her .
“Neither do I.” His fingertips trailed absently along her spine, down and up and down again. “But this doesn’t feel casual.”
He was right. It felt profound.
He released the hook and slid the short zipper.
“This gown is on loan. I need to be careful with it,” she said as she caught the front.
He helped her step out of it, then gave it a light shake before draping it across the bench at the end of the bed. He turned to look at her as he popped his cuffs and opened the buttons on his shirt.
“It’s not very sexy.” She had stood before cameras often enough in minimal clothing that she shouldn’t have been so self-conscious in her underwear. Heck, the black halter bra and high-cut, tummy-control panties were more modest than most bikinis she wore.
Nevertheless, as his attention wandered leisurely over her, she shifted on her heels.
“I’m not mad at it.” He opened his fly and dragged his shirt out, baring most of his torso as he padded toward her. “These straps are kind of hot.” He traced from where they met behind her neck down to the corset-like under-band beneath her breasts. His fingers splayed against the cups, plumping her breasts into the deep cut of the cleavage.
She didn’t know where to put her hands and let them settle nervously on his sleeves.
He was really...everything. Powerful. Broad and muscular and emanating a spicy masculine scent that she knew she would remember for the rest of her life.
She didn’t want to look and think and wonder where to put her hands, though. She wanted the blind passion that made her feel . She stepped forward, gaze on his mouth, and tilted hers up in invitation.
His mouth came down in a passionate crush, sweeping her back into that place where she didn’t think about how she looked or who she was or what the consequence of this might be. She gave herself over to him, not realizing he was moving her with the same fluid confidence he’d used on the dance floor until the cool wall met her shoulder blades.
“What...um...?” She tried to catch her breath, but couldn’t. Not when she was looking into raw lust glowing deep within his eyes.
He began to roll her underwear down her hips. He crouched to set a small kiss on the skin he exposed above her navel, then below it. Her mind blanked as his tender assault continued. Another kiss branded the point of her hip. He sent a soft “Hah” against her bared folds, stirring the fine hairs, making her flesh throb with anticipation.
His lips nuzzled the crease at the top of her thigh as he helped her step out of her panties.
“Do you know what high ceilings are good for?” he asked as he blew gently against her folds again.
She could hardly make sense of his words. She shook her head, thinking, I can’t breathe .
In a formidable move, he swept his arms under her thighs, rising at the same time.
A startled scream escaped her. She scrambled for purchase against the wall, knocking a painting askew and catching a fistful of his bound hair.
“You’re safe, goddess.” His breath was between her legs, her thighs braced on his shoulders. His wide hands splayed under her butt supported her. “I’m here to worship. I won’t let you fall.”
Her choke of disbelief turned to a fresh cry of surprise when he set his teeth in playful warning against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Her legs quivered in reaction, trying to close, but it was too late. He buried his mouth against her nether lips and scored her with the wet lash of his tongue.
She was at his mercy, completely unable to get away. It was raw intimacy and exquisite sensations.
He wanted to annihilate her, she thought wildly. Nothing would be the same after this. Nothing.
But as hot spears of pleasure emanated upward and outward, filling her with joyous light, she didn’t care. She wanted him to wreck her. She pushed the back of her head against the wall and worked her hands with sensual agitation into his hair, not bothering to stifle her moans of pleasure. The bodyguards in the hall outside the suite could probably hear her and she didn’t care.
No one had ever done this to her. For her. She felt worshipped. She felt like a goddess. Pure. Powerful. Deserving.
She arched her back, angled her hips and guided his head, gasping, “There. Please.”
He found the perfect rhythm with his tongue, lavishing her with intensely sweet, generous attention. It was so good, it was almost painful, yet she begged him, “More. Don’t stop.” Waves of heat built in her core. Her stomach knotted with tension. Her legs stiffened and her toes pointed. She bit her lip, trying to reach the pinnacle. “Please, Magnus. Please.”
Climax arrived with the blinding force of a lightning strike. While she shuddered and jolted in paroxysms of pleasure, her moans of ecstasy bounced off the high ceiling and echoed around the room.
Magnus was shaking with exertion when Lexi’s body slumped into weighty gratification.
He let her slide down until he could catch her in the cradle of his arms. He was so acutely aroused he wanted to throw her on the bed and fling himself on top of her, driving into her like an animal.
“I need a condom,” he reminded himself, and went into the bathroom to get them from his case. He splashed cold water onto his face while he was there, trying to regain some semblance of control.
She was magnificent. His perfect match. The fact he only had one night with her infuriated him. A lengthy affair with her was one more thing he couldn’t have and he wanted to bellow his rage at the world for it.
He dried his beard and walked back into the bedroom to find her waiting in his bed, sitting against the pillows with a sheet pulled up to cover her breasts. The black straps of her bra were gone. Her shoes were on the floor beside the monogrammed slippers he never used.
All the bitter acrimony within him hardened into a diamond that glittered and sent out shards of hunger and anticipation and lust. One night. He would make the most of it.
He removed a condom from the box and left the box on the night table, then clutched the packet in his teeth while he pulled the cord from his hair. The pewter wolf’s head landed next to the box. He gave his hair a loose comb with his fingers, shaking it out.
She watched him, keeping the edge of her lip in her teeth as he stripped off the rest of his clothes. By the time he was naked, her eyes had widened with wariness.
“Still with me, goddess?” he asked gruffly. The beast in him snarled, unwilling to be denied.
“Nervous,” she said in a small voice.
“Why?” He applied the condom and threw back the covers, exposing her very enticing form.
She let out a squeak of surprise and wriggled sideways, leaving ample room on the mattress for him to settle beside her.
He braced on his elbow, appreciating the endless expanse of pale skin that held a hint of gold. Her full, uptilted breasts had beige nipples pebbled with arousal, making his mouth water. Then there was the shadowy valley between her shyly clamped thighs, calling to him.
“Did I not demonstrate that I’m an extremely considerate lover?” He traced a light caress from her ankle to her knee, then up her thigh to her hip.
Her breasts quivered as she took a shaken breath.
“I plan to give you so many orgasms, you won’t have the strength to say, Thank you, Magnus .”
The noise she made was a catch between a sob and a laugh. “I want to call you arrogant, but I’m afraid you’re only telling the truth.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?” He scooped his arm around her hips, dragging her close enough he could open his mouth on one of the very pretty nipples that were tempting him so irresistibly.
As he rolled the firm berry against his tongue, she moaned and ran her hands into his hair.
“I didn’t know I had a kink for men with long hair,” she confided in a husky voice. “But I like how it feels.”
“Don’t talk about other men.” He was not so hypocritical he thought women shouldn’t take lovers, but he didn’t want to think about her with anyone but him.
He rose enough to press her onto her back and swept his mouth to her other nipple, taking his time as he laved and sucked, enjoying the way she slid her fingers through his hair as he did.
When he couldn’t wait any longer, he rose to kiss her, needing the feel of her lips opening against his own. Needing the brush of her tongue when he invaded.
And she was welcoming here, too. He strayed his hand between her thighs and found her soft and plump and slick. He wanted to taste her again. He wanted to live his life with the right to explore her like this, easing his touch into silken heat, feeling her muscles clamp snugly around his exploring finger while her breath hitched.
Her eyes were hazed with carnal need. He looked from that exquisite sight to the roll of her hips as she lifted to meet the slow thrust of his hand.
“Show me how you like to be touched.” He needed to learn exactly how to please her, right now, because he didn’t have a lifetime to learn it.
He didn’t have a lifetime to practice, either.
“Magnus, please.” She swept her hands across his shoulders, then wriggled her hand between them, closing her hand around his girth. “I want to feel this. You. ”
He could have lost himself right there, from only her soft grip and erotic words. It killed him to give up touching her, but he shifted to settle between her thighs, pushing them wide with his knees to make room for his hips.
“I’m a strong man, Lexi.” He was built tall and wide and burned off a lot of sexual frustration in the weight room. “I really want you.” More than he’d ever wanted anyone. Ever. But he wasn’t going to dwell on how disconcerting that was. Not when he was at heaven’s gate. “Stop me if I get too rough.”
“You won’t.”
She didn’t know, though. She didn’t know how badly he wanted to make her his.
Leaning his weight on one elbow, he guided himself to her entrance and probed. Everything in him wanted to thrust to his root, but her nails bit into his upper arm.
He froze and looked at where she was pinching his biceps.
“Sorry.” She rubbed the spot. “I really want this to be good for you.”
“Look where I am.” He nibbled the edge of her jaw. “This is very good.”
He flared his nostrils to take in oxygen, trying to keep a few brain cells working as her heat closed around his tip, threatening to burn him alive. He let his weight do the work, slowly settling his pelvis onto hers as he forged his way into a sensation that dimmed his vision.
As he arrived deep inside her, his back flexed with pleasure.
“Oh,” she breathed shakily, as though discovering something new. Then she bent her leg to sweep one foot against the back of his calf.
The movement drew him a fraction deeper into paradise. Her hands stroked his ribs and caressed his back and found his buttocks. She tilted back her head and made a noise of luxury.
The outside world disintegrated. All that existed was her and this: the drag and thrust of lovemaking and the profound pleasure it gave them both.
Lexi woke cotton-headed. She was in a dark room. The tangled weight of Magnus’s limbs pinned her to the mattress.
He was entitled to his arrogance, was her first lazy thought. He had delivered a string of orgasms that had nearly broken her in half.
“Stay,” he grumbled when she tried to pull away.
“Nature calls.” She dragged herself to the bathroom and used the toilet, then slipped on the hotel robe while she washed off her makeup.
Magnus came in, casually naked and burnished bronze by the muted night-light. He wordlessly handed her a toothbrush from a drawer, still in its packet. Then he closed himself into the toilet stall, emerging a moment later to brush his own teeth.
“Do you mind?” She picked up his hairbrush.
“Help yourself.”
Her hair was nothing but knots, given the styling products she’d used earlier, then the sweaty lovemaking while he had tumbled her this way and that on the bed. He had seemed determined to wring every last sensation from every position he could dream up, all while making her his in the most indelible ways.
It had worked. She had thought she had a low libido, never discovering true passion no matter how many toads she kissed.
Tonight she’d kissed a prince, she thought with amusement.
She watched him cup his hand under the running faucet to rinse his mouth. He straightened and used a hand towel to dry his beard, stilling when he noticed her watching.
“What are we thinking, pretty bird?”
“That this feels like a dream.”
His rumbled noise might have been agreement. He took the hairbrush from her and moved behind her, running it smoothly through the length since she’d already done most of the work.
People fussed with her hair all the time, but this felt different. His hand petted behind every stroke, as though he took as much pleasure in this act as she did. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake. What was he doing, playing attentive lady’s maid?
A scald of heat arrived behind her eyes that didn’t make any sense. Or rather, she didn’t want to pick apart why she felt so emotive. In this moment, she felt cared for, truly cared for, even though this was only sex. Once morning arrived, they would never see each other again.
“I don’t want to wake up.” She didn’t realize she said it aloud until his gaze met hers in the mirror.
The hairbrush landed next to the sink and his arms came around her, drawing her backward into him. One hand dived behind her lapel to cup her breast. Her nipple tightened to a point against his palm. His other hand burrowed below the tied belt, finding the quivering jump of her stomach.
“I don’t want to sleep,” he said in a graveled voice. He nuzzled against her hair, seeking her ear. “Are you sore? Or—? Mmm...” A satisfied noise left him as he traced into her folds and found her slick enough to bloom against his touch.
She was very tender, but his touch was lazy and gentle. Even so, she was so sensitized, the friction was almost too intense to bear.
She covered his hand, stilling his touch, but felt his erection against her bottom, through the thick velour of the robe.
“I’ll be so careful, Lexi,” he whispered against her ear, tongue dabbling into the whorls, teeth teasing the rim. “Do you really want me to stop?”
“No,” she admitted, closing her eyes against the watchful glitter of his gaze.
His heavy hand lifted beneath the weight of hers. His touch was barely there, but the knot of nerves at the top of her sex was so swollen, the barest roll of his fingertip had her turning her face into his shoulder. A groan of helpless desire escaped her throat.
“Tell me no one else gives you this,” he commanded.
“No one,” she gasped, arching her bruised nipple into his palming hand. Climax danced as elusively as his caress between her thighs.
“You make me feel like a god.” He pressed his wide, claiming hand over her mound.
Her hips instinctively pushed into that firm hold and she broke, awash in sensations that melted her bones, but that was okay. His strong arms kept her from falling.
He woke her once more in the night, rolling away long enough to put on a condom, then stayed spooned behind her while they spent a long time simply enjoying the sensation of being joined, caressing and kissing what skin they could reach, sighing with bliss into the dark.
When orgasm arrived, it came in long, rolling pulses that took Lexi out to sea like a tide. She drifted to sleep still rocked by the waves of pleasure.
Magnus must have fallen asleep, too. She had a vague memory of waking with a start when he drew a breath and hardened inside her.
His arms tightened around her and he said something in his language before he asked, “Are you asleep?”
She made a noise between dismay and reassurance, wincing slightly at the sensation as he withdrew, but she didn’t want to leave this liminal state between dream and waking.
He rolled away, then came back to envelop her and kiss her shoulder. They both sighed and slid back into dreamland.