Chapter Five #3
Her heart had begun to beat loudly in her head, prickles of heat sweeping over her.
She’d known that it was a mistake to stay so close to him, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to move away.
And then, when he’d offered her the orange segment, she’d seen desire in his intense grey gaze, a flame burning, and along with it a challenge.
She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to obey his order and open her mouth, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself.
Maybe it was the sudden surge of bravery that had swept over her as she’d stepped out of the palace and into the gardens, her hand in his.
Or the delight of having the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, the rich scent of the forest and the slight tinge of snow on the mountains.
It had all been thrilling, amazing, and for the first time in her life she hadn’t felt afraid—not of anything.
She wasn’t afraid of him either. Nor of the blatant heat in his eyes.
That was thrilling too, and a deep part of her was flooded with a sudden sense of power.
That this warrior, this enemy, this king, should look at her like that.
Her, the forgotten mouse hiding in the walls of the palace.
The girl no one had ever cared about enough to protect, or even just not to hurt.
He wanted her.
And, while she’d never known what it was to want anyone physically before, she was certain that right now she wanted him. Honestly, why wouldn’t she? He was dangerous, but so beautiful, and even though that should have made her feel threatened, it didn’t.
He would never hurt her. She knew it the way she knew her own name.
He was in dark suit trousers today, with a deep blue shirt that made his eyes glow blue-silver, standing out starkly against his olive skin.
He’d been terse when she’d arrived late, explaining to her with some severity exactly what his issue with time was.
She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected, either, the rush of sympathy she’d felt when he’d told her that he was responsible for his country.
It had seemed like such a heavy burden, and she’d told him so. But he’d shrugged it away.
Then he’d held out his hand to her to help her step outside, despite the glower on his compelling features, and she hadn’t even thought why that might not be a good idea, she’d just taken it.
He was a severe man, vibrating with a taut, impatient energy she found absolutely mesmerising.
His hand was warm, and so was his body. And when she’d bitten through that segment, and the juice had run down his thumb, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from licking it, tasting the sweetness of the orange and the salt on his skin.
She could taste those same things now, with his mouth on hers…oranges and salt and something darker, richer. Delicious. He smelled like freedom and tasted of courage, and she wanted those two things more than she wanted her next breath.
Thought was difficult, and his kiss was hot, and she could barely take in anything else. Then the kiss turned even hotter, became demanding, and she couldn’t resist opening her mouth beneath his.
He took advantage, his tongue exploring hers, making her tremble all over.
Somehow her hands were pressed to his chest and she could finally feel the hard muscle beneath the cotton of his shirt. She’d had no idea he would feel so wonderful. No idea that the rough demand of his kiss would be so incredible.
His fingertips holding her chin tightened and she felt his other hand slide to the small of her back, the orange falling unnoticed on the ground.
His hand slid further down, over her rear, cupping her, easing her hips against his, and the hard length of his erection pressed to the unbearably sensitive place between her thighs.
A helpless whimper escaped her as a shock of pleasure sent sparks along every nerve-ending.
She’d had no idea it would feel like this.
She’d imagined it—yes, she had. Kisses. Touches.
Desire. This was what she’d read about. This.
This magical feeling of being wanted and of wanting herself.
But it was better than she’d ever imagined… so much better.
The kiss turned feverish and he released her chin, sliding one hand into her hair and closing his fingers into a fist, tugging back her head, exploring her mouth deeper and with even more demand.
She was shaking now, and the hard press of him between her thighs was almost unbearable.
She wanted his hand there—wanted something more… More friction. Yes. She needed it.
He moved, walking her insistently backwards until she felt the rough trunk of the orange tree pressed against her spine, his hands on her hips holding her against it.
Then he tore his mouth from hers and she found herself looking up into his face, half dizzy with desire and breathing fast. He was breathing fast too, the look in his eyes blazing with want, and with something else that looked like fury.
‘Is this what you want?’ he demanded suddenly. ‘To debase yourself with me?’
Guinevere blinked up at him, not understanding. ‘Wh-what do you mean…debase myself?’
‘You want me to have you up against this tree? Your skirt hiked up and me inside you? Because I will, little Accorsi. Say the word and that’s exactly what will happen.’
She stared at him, noting the hard lines of his face and the anger—yes, it was anger—flaming in his eyes. ‘I… I…’ she stammered, hating how she couldn’t get the words out. ‘Wh-what did I do?’
‘Nothing. But I like it rough, mouse.’ He growled the words, pressing his hips suddenly against hers, letting her feel the hard length of him through her dress. ‘And you don’t even know what you’re doing when you look at me that way.’
Guinevere’s pulse pounded in her ears, her cheeks burning. She still didn’t understand his anger. ‘What way?’
‘Like all you want me to do is put you on your back in the grass, spread your thighs and eat you alive.’
The words sent a hot shock through her. She knew what he was talking about—she might be sheltered, but she’d read enough about physical passion to understand. The thought of him doing that to her excited her, thrilled her, even as it made her want to go up in flames with embarrassment.
She took a shuddering breath. ‘But… I don’t understand. Would that be wrong? Why are you so angry?’
Abruptly, Tiberius shoved himself away, then pushed a distracted hand through his black hair, glancing away, a muscle leaping in the side of his strong jaw.
Then he looked back, his gaze a silver spear piercing her right through.
‘I have never had a problem with controlling myself, Guinevere Accorsi. Never. Doing my duty to Kasimir is the most important task I can conceive of and I should be thinking about it—not of ripping your clothes off.’
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
‘I don’t know why, or what it is about you that is driving me to distraction, but let me be very clear.
Nothing can happen between us. I am not the man for a virgin who has lived her entire life within the walls of a palace—and especially not if that virgin is vulnerable, fragile and has been badly treated by the people who were supposed to protect her. ’
The way he said it all, so dismissively, caught at something inside her, igniting her own anger.
He was acting as if she was the problem, and yet she’d done nothing.
Nothing at all. It wasn’t her fault that her brothers had been monsters, that they’d hurt her.
It wasn’t her fault her father had failed to protect her, either.
And as for the ‘virgin’ stuff—well, again, that wasn’t her fault. Even if by some miracle she’d met a man she liked, she wouldn’t have had the opportunity to rid herself of her virginity anyway.
‘Why not?’ she shot back, stepping forward. ‘You make me sound like a sad little victim, and I’m not.’
The scorching silver of his gaze swept over her.
‘No, perhaps not. But the problem isn’t you—it’s me.
I’m afraid of what I want to do to you. I want to punish you, corrupt you, take my revenge out on you for what your father did to my family.
’ The flames in his eyes were cold now. ‘But I am a king, and a king is above such pettiness. He does not put his own desires before those of his country. To do so would make me no better than Renzo, and I will not be that man.’
A shiver passed over her, and she didn’t know whether it was because of the ice in his voice or the flames in his eyes.
Punish you…corrupt you…
She swallowed, her mouth dry. ‘If you’re worried about hurting me, you won’t. You would never make me do anything I didn’t want.’
She knew that was true. He could have done what he’d just said to her at any point over the past few days and he hadn’t. Even when he’d been angry.
His eyes glittered, sharp as swords. ‘But I can make you want it, little mouse. I can make you do anything I command. And that’s why nothing can ever happen between us.’
‘What if I wasn’t a virgin? If I was experienced?’
That muscle jumped in the side of his jaw. ‘A moot point, since you are neither of those things.’
There was no use in denying it. Her inexperience must be obvious. ‘I know that, but…’ She tried to think. ‘I mean, I’m your wife. So are you planning on being celibate for the entirety of our marriage?’
An emotion she didn’t understand flickered over his face and he gave a low, mirthless laugh. ‘No. No, I am not.’
A strange feeling lanced through her then—a kind of pain.
You’re jealous now?
She wanted to deny it, tell herself that she felt nothing for him so of course it couldn’t be jealousy. And yet… The thought of him with someone else made her hurt deep inside. ‘You’ll…take a lover, then? Is that what you’re saying?’
There was a darkness in his eyes now. ‘I will not be staying celibate just for you, little lioness.’
Lioness.
Brave as a lion. That was what he meant, wasn’t it? He thought she was brave.
She took another step, wanting to prove it both to herself and to him.
‘You have made demands of me since we met, and I’ve given you everything you wanted.
I married you. I gave you my name and promised to be at your side for public appearances, for the sake of our people.
So you’ve already punished me for my father’s crimes.
’ The words kept on spilling out, even though she’d had no idea she was going to say them.
‘But it’s my turn now. I want to demand one thing of you.
’ She took another step, then another, the last one carrying her straight to him.
‘Don’t find a lover, Your Majesty. If you want one, your wife is right here. ’
His gaze flickered, then blazed with a bright, hot, fierce emotion that again she didn’t understand. He was breathing fast, as she was, his hands in fists at his sides.
Was that her effect on him? Had she driven him to this point?
They stared at each other for what felt like one long, aching eon.
Then abruptly he turned around without a word and strode away.
Disappointment gripped her as she watched his tall figure vanish up the path and into the gardens, along with another tight, hot feeling that was almost unbearable.
He might think her brave, but he still thought of her as fragile and vulnerable too, thought that she needed to be protected. She liked it that he wanted to protect her, but she didn’t want him to put her in the ‘delicate and fragile’ box. It aggravated her.
She was tired of being thought of as a victim, of being powerless and weak.
Throughout her childhood she’d accepted those labels because it had been safer.
But they chafed now. He’d called her a lioness, he thought she was brave, and she wanted to prove that to him—show him that she wasn’t as fragile as he thought.
She wanted him, his touch, his kiss. She wanted the passion she’d read about in books and the pleasure too. And she didn’t see why she couldn’t have it.
Yes, she was inexperienced, and he’d been very clear about what he liked sexually, but it hadn’t frightened her. It had made her curious, made her want to find out exactly what he meant by ‘rough’. Because she wasn’t some shy, wilting flower—or a bloody mouse.
She took a slow breath, determination hardening inside her.
He wanted her. She excited him—she could see that. But he was also denying himself, because he was a good man, with strong principles, and no matter what he said, he wasn’t like her father—not even a little bit.
He would make her want it, he’d said. Well, that was a two-way street. She could make him want it too. Why shouldn’t she?
Why shouldn’t she, for the first time in her life, actually take what she wanted for herself instead of hiding away in the dark?
Also, it wasn’t just about her. It was clear he needed what she could offer.
In a way, convincing him to sleep with her would be helping her country.
A distracted king wasn’t ideal, after all, and from the looks of him he needed some relief.
He’d been working so hard. She’d seen the shadows beneath his eyes.
Guinevere walked over to where the rest of the orange lay and picked it up. She tore off a segment and put in her mouth, and as she walked back to the palace she began to plan.