Chapter Eight #2
The bite of disappointment across his expression pulled at her heart, and she almost protested when he slid into the space beside her and gathered her up in his arms. ‘Sleep then,’ he encouraged roughly. ‘Or I won’t be held responsible for succumbing to my little witch.’
Just a silly little fantasy, she reminded herself sternly.
Still, she slid her arm around his waist, and when he firmly drew up her leg to drape over his thick thighs, she didn’t complain. She merely sighed and let sleep take her.
She woke three hours later, alone, her heart hammering with alarm for vital seconds with the dismaying thought that she’d dreamed everything. But the indentation in the pillow and the discarded clothes verified what had happened.
She’d had sex with Valenti. Her guardian. And whilst that illicit thrill of the forbidden stole through her, Lotte admitted to herself that she didn’t want it to be over. Not when they left the cabin.
Could she…
Her thoughts stumbled to a halt when Valenti filled the doorway.
He wore a black robe loosely tied around his waist and his silver eyes zeroed in on her with a fierceness that made her heart lurch. ‘You’re up.’
She nodded, her heart still racing as he prowled over, angled her head and slanted his mouth over hers. For long endless minutes he dominated her every sense, dragging out a helpless moan when he finally pulled away and perched on the side of the bed.
‘Any news?’ she attempted, even though she was secretly content to live in oblivion just a little longer.
His lips tightened for a moment before he shook his head. ‘He is proving elusive,’ he replied tautly, then his expression hardened into a mask so ruthlessly determined she was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of his pursuit. ‘But not for long.’
Catching her shiver at that, his expression eased a fraction and he held out his hand. ‘Come.’
‘Where?’
The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Shower first, then whatever you want,’ he offered huskily.
What she wanted, most of all was to dive into his arms, but a shower was a close second.
Especially when they entered the bathroom and he immediately shrugged off his robe.
Her senses leaping at the sight of his magnificent form, she could barely concentrate enough to walk into the large cubicle he filled the moment he entered.
Lotte wanted to hate him for being mildly amused at her awkwardness, but he mitigated that too when he lazily squirted soap into his hands, rubbed them together, then proceeded to wash her from head to toe.
The moans she tried to stifle earlier ripped free, then seemingly set loose, they relentlessly poured from her as his expert hands wreaked magic over her skin.
At her silent demand to return the favour, he nodded, his gaze devouring her every move as she attempted to reciprocate, faltering embarrassingly when she reached his groin.
But, seeing her effect on him, Lotte grew bolder, wrapping her hand around his sizeable girth and stroking a scant few times before with an animal snarl and nostrils flaring, he captured her hands.
‘Dios. Enough.’
At her soft protest, his eyes narrowed. ‘Do you feel rested enough to take me again?’
Heat rushing faster up her face, she bit her lip and nodded.
Valenti stepped out for a minute, then returned, condom in hand. Silently handed it to her.
She eagerly tore it free, her hands shaking.
The second she sheathed him, he growled, ‘Turn around.’ Strong hands captured hers, lifted them high above her head to pin on the shower wall. ‘Stay,’ he ordered.
It was the third time he’d issued that command in this cabin, and her senses now responded with an eagerness she couldn’t deny. When one thick thigh slotted between hers to widen her stance, every nerve in her body shivered in excitement.
Then he was breaching her entrance, surging hard and so deliciously powerfully inside her that she cried out in delight.
‘You are so beautiful, mi amante. So magnificently tight. Fuck, you wreck me.’
Robbed of breath and sense, she could only squeeze her eyes shut, sob her desire as he took her to the very edge of the world.
His thick groans triggered her release, pleasure unbelievably more intense than before rocking her very foundations, rendering her boneless once more as he roared his release, then scooped her up in his arms.
Once again, the need to speak became unnecessary, their movements languid as he dried her gently and they went to the bedroom.
She dressed in a soft grey lounge set, he in a dark T-shirt and pair of joggers minus underwear that almost made her swallow her tongue when her gaze became riveted to the muscled V-cut of his pelvis.
‘If you want to leave this room and make a stab at having a normal day, you’ll stop looking at me like that,’ he advised with a wicked gleam in his silver eyes.
Her face, once again tomato red, drew husky laughter from him. She revelled in the sound she hadn’t heard before and somehow doubted she would once they left this place.
The reminder snagged at her euphoria, dimming it after they’d gone downstairs to his office, and she’d ensconced herself with a book in the armchair beneath the window across from his desk.
She willed herself not to stare as he slipped into dual roles of prince and security expert, easily switching between Cartanian, English and French with consummate ease.
Astonishingly, after ten minutes, the dark hypnotic drone of his voice settled her racing heart, allowing her to delve deeper into her book.
Only to look up a short while later to find him staring at her. What he held in his hand was what drew her attention.
The camera he’d presented her with yesterday. The one they’d used to shoot content she’d totally forgotten about after their return.
She set the book aside, glad for the chance to do something else besides gawp at him. Glancing outside, she saw that the snow wasn’t falling as ferociously as before. ‘I think it’s a good time to grab some pictures from the porch, maybe shoot a short video before the weather worsens again.’
To her surprise, he shook his head. ‘Not just yet. Maybe later.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Why not?’
For a tight stretch he remained silent, but a peculiar expression darted across his face. Then he bit out, ‘You still look…well sated. I’m reluctant to share that with anyone else. I’ll have to insist on being the only one who sees you like this.’
Her whole body flamed this time, especially when he pinned her with a stare so ravenous she lost the rhythm of her breathing. Then she turned even more frazzled when he picked up the camera. ‘May I?’ he asked.
Her head moved almost of its own volition even though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was agreeing to.
He rose fluidly to his feet, and rounded his desk to perch on the edge. Forcing herself not to drool at his raw masculinity, to just breathe dammit, she watched his arm rise, the lens aimed at her.
‘What are you doing?’ she muttered as he clicked rapidly.
He stopped to flick through the photos he’d taken, his gaze glinting with dark appreciation. ‘These are not for public consumption,’ he said firmly, a far too possessive note in his voice that sent further fireworks through her bloodstream.
Rapt, she watched him raise the camera once more, prowling close with each half a dozen or so images he captured, until he dropped into a crouch before her.
Lotte knew she was exposing far more than was wise as she stared into the black lens, but she couldn’t seem to gather the strength to reinforce her armour. Her attention sharpened on him when he took several up close, then muttered under his breath in Cartanian.
‘What did you say?’ she asked far too breathlessly.
He exhaled heavily, then shook his head. ‘Never mind.’
She let it go, understanding the undercurrent of sentiments charging between them. ‘Let’s go make lunch. I’ll film my segment after that.’
He nodded. Setting the camera aside, he braced his hands on the arms of her chair, bent low until his mouth brushed her ear. ‘Then I put the rightful look back on your face.’
Lunch was a simple but sumptuous meal of prime beef sandwich and salad, washed down with a small glass of fruity Chianti.
Once they’d polished that off, she fetched the camera, and they stepped onto the snow-laden porch.
The brisk air was refreshing. Lotte, stingingly aware as Valenti leaned against the wooden wall watching, extolled the virtues of her surroundings, then ended with her usual affirmation.
After taking a few shots of the landscape, they returned indoors.
She watched him place the camera on the nearby shelf. Then as he was heading back to her, she cleared her throat and asked the question that, through a combination of outright denial, active dissuasion and consideration for others’ grief, she’d waited a decade to be answered.
‘What happened the day my sister died?’
He froze, the cold, stony facade she knew far too well sliding into place between one breath and the next. But in the split second before it descended and slammed into place, she caught a glimpse of desolation so bleak, it shredded her insides.
‘Why do you want to put yourself through that, litla?’ he asked an eternity later.
She exhaled shakily. ‘Why does anyone search for answers to painful questions? To seek enlightenment and sometimes, to search for closure.’
He hadn’t taken a visible breath since she posed her question, and he remained statue still at her answer.
‘A third option is to let the past be. Not to rake over painful ground.’ A ripple travelled through his set jaw when he finally moved, approached where she’d perched on the sofa, and crouched before her, determination to deny blazing through his eyes.
‘Don’t do this to yourself, Lotte. Your sister is gone—’