CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER TWELVE
She felt a little bit guilty. But it was noon the next day after he had shown her the library, and she was in her pajamas lying on the chaise by the lit fire. She had a pillow, a blanket, and she’d had a basket of pastries and some coffee, and was now enjoying cheese and hot chocolate. She had read three books so far. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this relaxed.
And yes, she was still engaged to a man who had hurt her feelings yesterday. Yes, her father was still dying. And yes, her future was still uncertain.
But she felt like there was at least some happiness to be carved out here. Not just for the sake of her sisters, but for herself. This at least was a slice of happiness.
She snuggled deeper into the blanket, and heard footsteps on the stairwell. She thought it might be Miriam coming to check on her. But her heart gave a great jump when the figure came into view.
It was Adonis.
He was wearing a white cable-knit sweater, and a pair of dark jeans. He looked…incredibly sexy. And it made her ache.
Because the romance in the books was tame compared with what she had experienced with him. Except that was physical, wasn’t it? Emotionally, he was proving to be elusive, slippery.
But she thought about what he had said yesterday. About how he had talked about his own identity, and the way the world owned a piece of it. How he had hidden his name from her because he wanted to be…himself.
And that made her wonder how much of himself he kept hidden.
Had she even truly gotten to see the depths of him? She suspected not. The whole world thought that he was a shallow playboy. But was that even the truth?
“Hi,” she said.
“Hello.”
It was so funny. Him greeting her like he wasn’t a prince. Like they weren’t getting married. Like he hadn’t seen her naked. Like he hadn’t taken her to heaven in a way no other man ever had, and then…
Here they were.
And whatever this was.
This pounding, painful feeling at the center of her chest. That was there too.
“I expect you had a good day?”
She nodded slowly.
She found she didn’t want to recline when he was in there.
She rose up from the chaise lounge slowly, a little bit dizzy, because she had been lying down for so long.
“It’s been a lovely afternoon. Thank you for suggesting this.”
“I’m glad. I’m not a monster.”
“I know. Though, I don’t think you’re entirely what you appear to be either.”
“You think?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her for a long moment, and the tension between them seemed to grow.
She looked away, because she refused to be humiliated again like she was yesterday.
She heard footsteps, and looked up, and then he was there. He put his finger beneath her chin, and tilted upward, forcing her eyes to meet his. “I owe you an apology,” he said.
“You gave me one of those yesterday.”
“So I did. And perhaps it is not an apology that I owe you.”
And suddenly his lips were on hers. It was fierce and intense, and utterly unexpected. But it was also… Everything.
She couldn’t have denied him even if she wanted to. And she found she didn’t want to.
She wrapped her arms around his neck; how glorious to kiss him when he was standing up. When they weren’t freezing cold. When she wasn’t afraid of dying. When she wasn’t afraid she would make him bleed to death.
All things that most people didn’t usually have to worry about when they made love, she assumed.
Novice though she was.
He moved his hands up her back, and she sighed, his hold so large and strong it filled her with boundless need.
He held her close, deepening the kiss. She felt a yawning, relentless need widening up inside of her. Oh, how she wanted him.
She did.
Because he was everything.
And she wrapped her arms around his neck, no longer afraid that he was going to pull away. His hold was strong. And she rejoiced in the vitality.
Also in the fact that she still wanted him. That it hadn’t simply been about survival, or this strange, driving need to affirm life. She had wanted him.
They never would’ve met. They never would have met if he hadn’t been in that airport. And nothing ever would’ve happened between them if they hadn’t crashed the plane. That day had changed the course of her life irrevocably. And the idea that she might never have met him suddenly filled her with a sense of panic. It was such an odd thing. Because this whole time she hadn’t even been certain if she wanted this. But she couldn’t imagine living without it or him either.
She simply couldn’t.
So she held him, and kissed him. Let the slick friction of his tongue against hers drive her to absolute madness.
She wanted to weep with it.
God in heaven, but she did.
He pushed her back against one of the bookshelves, and her hand went up, knocking against two of the books and sending them down to the floor. Collateral damage. What could be done? He pressed his palm against hers, lacing his fingers through her fingers, holding her hand fast against the spines of the books still in the shelves, kissing her hard and deep.
It was incredible. Wonderful.
Her heart was pounding so hard, and for a moment she knew just a little bit of fear. Because what if she was hurt even worse after this? What if the feelings that were chiming through her now only got more intense? She didn’t want to love him.
She really didn’t.
And yet her heart was about to burst, and her stomach was tight with need.
So much need.
His firm, rough hands began to strip her clothing away from her body. It was so different from the time they had been together in the plane. When they’d had to keep their bodies covered by sleeping bags. When he had been stuck lying on his back. He wasn’t stuck now.
His movements were dominant, rough. And she exulted in them. She had spent years handling everything in her life. Trying to control everything. And she had surrendered some of that control the moment that she met him, she had agreed to marry him, and he had swept her off to this place, and none of it had been what she was used to. But this felt like the ultimate expression of it. The ultimate in practicing that surrender. If lying on the chaise all day and reading books had felt like a vacation, this felt like a new life.
A new self.
One where she wasn’t carrying everything. One where he was carrying her.
She was wearing pajamas; they weren’t even sexy. He didn’t seem to care. He stripped her top off, her pants, her bra and her underwear. She was naked, pressed against the bookshelves, and he was fully clothed.
“I want to see you,” she panted.
He met her gaze, those blue cold eyes, and yet they weren’t cold. They were aflame.
He put his hand between her legs, testing her slickness. And she was slick. Slick and ready. He pressed a finger inside of her, his gaze never leaving hers. “You want to see me? I want to see you come. Come for me, Stevie.” He smoothed his thumb over that sensitized bundle of nerves there at the center of her thighs, and she felt herself beginning to unravel. Felt herself surrender. He pushed another finger inside of her, and she shattered. He kissed her hard, swallowing her cries of pleasure, and then, only then did he move away from her, divesting himself of his clothes, and revealing his spectacular body to her. She had gotten a glimpse of it when they had been together the first time, but only a glimpse. His bare chest was magnificent, covered in just the right amount of hair. His chest was sculpted and defined, his abs glorious and chiseled. Then he moved his hands to his belt, took his pants off, and she could see the full extent of his glorious masculinity. He was hard for her, and she had a hard time believing anything that big had ever fit as neatly inside of her as he had done then. But it had to work. It had then. It had hurt at first, but then it had been glorious. And she trusted that it would be now too.
He moved to her, one hand palming her ass, as he moved his hand down to lift her thigh, opening her to him as he thrust deep within her.
She gasped. The bookshelf dug into her back, but he filled her incredibly well. And she found herself gripping his shoulders, her fingernails digging into his skin as she cried out his name.
He growled hers.
The mutual need drove them both. It was a glory unlike anything she had ever experienced. And she didn’t know if she could handle experiencing it again. And again and again, and yet, she knew that she would. That she must. Because they were getting married. But it wasn’t just physical. She felt it. Felt herself begin to fracture inside. Felt herself begin to crumble. All that resolved. All that she had told herself about not falling in love. Because she was supposedly too smart. Armed with the knowledge of what it could cost to love somebody that you might lose. But this was even worse. It was uncharted territory. Because she had never thought she might love someone who simply didn’t love her. Who was there, but didn’t feel the feelings. And yet. And yet.
He surged inside of her one last time, and she shattered again, clinging to him, shuttering as he captured her cries of need on her lips.
“Adonis,” she whispered.
And then he went over. Pulsing inside of her, his body drawn tight like a bow as he spilled his seed within her.
And when the storm ended, he looked at her with the expression of a haunted man.
And then he gathered his clothes, and walked away from her. He dressed in silence, and she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to react, or what to do. And when he left her there, it was worse than when they had been rescued in the snow. Worse than when she had found out he was supposed to marry somebody else.
It was worse than just about anything.
But this time, she decided she was going to follow him.
* * *
He cursed himself as a fool. Because he was not supposed to do that. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. After all, he had made a vow. He was not going to let himself be controlled by his desire for her. No. That was for another man. That was foolishness for someone who didn’t have control over themselves.
And he was not a fool.
At least, he would’ve said that he wasn’t. He had played the part of one with her just now.
He was, perhaps, more his mother’s son than he wanted to admit.
He had genuinely gone up to check on her, and he had been overwhelmed by his need. The need that he had been trying to suppress. The need he had been trying to hold back.
He had been at the end of his restraint.
So he had claimed her. With no thought.
This was the path to madness.
The door to his room opened, no knock.
“What are you doing?” he asked when he turned and saw Stevie standing there.
“You came into my room yesterday without knocking. I thought it was fair. Plus, you just…banged me against a bookcase. I don’t think we need to stand on ceremony.”
“This is my palace.”
“If I’m going to be your wife, then it’s going to be my palace too, and you can’t act like this. You can’t behave like an unpredictable child. I don’t deserve this. I deserve some communication. I deserve something a little bit better, don’t you think?”
“I can’t speak to that.”
“Well, then, I guess we shouldn’t speak at all. And maybe we should forget this. Entirely.”
“I’ve no intention of forgetting this.”
“Then we need to talk. Why are you so… Why are you so bothered by this?”
“Because I refuse to have feelings for you that I cannot control. It would be disastrous. Not just for you, not just for me, but for the entire kingdom.”
She didn’t know what to do with that. This admission that he might be in danger of having feelings for her. It was such a… Such a very strange thing.
Though it was also a terrible thing to know he thought that feeling something for her was such a terrible, terrible fate.
As if caring for him would be better.
No. It wouldn’t be. He was selfish and capricious and loving him would be an awful thing.
It could be devastating.
She didn’t feel especially…special. She never had. But if he was afraid of developing feelings for her, did that mean that… That at least in her own way, she was? That she was something at the very least, something more than just a good pick to be his princess. Something more than just a woman that he felt some sexual attraction to—because he must.
She crossed the room and looked at him. “I don’t want to get hurt. Not any more than you do.”
His lips curved upward. Into sort of an incredulous smile. “I’m not worried about being hurt. What worries me is becoming a shell of myself. Becoming a leader who cannot lead in the way that he should. That is what concerns me. Because I know what is important. And I must keep my eyes on that.”
The little bubble of hope that had just existed inside of her burst. As if it had never been there.
It wasn’t really about her. It was a strange wariness. Something that had to do with his father. And his mother, because he had immediately connected her to his mother because of her desire to continue doing her job even as a princess. It had less to do with her specialness, and more to do with his lack of trust.
“I don’t think that I have the power to make you a shell,” she said. “There’s no need to worry about that.”
He reached out and grabbed hold of her wrist. “But I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”
She realized that coming from him, that was a compliment. Or at least, he thought it was.
“I can’t… I can’t keep my hands off of you. You were a virgin, Stevie, none of that makes sense.”
“Wow. So you’re insulting me on top of everything.”
“My aim is not to insult you. My aim is to tell you that you have reached inside of me into a place no one ever has before. Do you realize, I have never actually had to contend with a woman after I’ve had sex with her?”
She gritted her teeth. “None of that is especially flattering.”
“I don’t know how to flatter you.”
“That’s a lie. You’re a renowned playboy, surely you must know how to flatter a woman.”
“But that’s just it. You aren’t like any other woman. Whether that makes sense or not, it is true. You are not like other women, and I don’t know how to manage this thing that roars to life inside of me whenever you’re near. And it has never been more important that I have control. Never. You were supposed to bring balance to my life, you were not supposed to upend it.”
“Honestly,” she said, feeling very flat. “I cannot deal with your issues while trying to… I have been uprooted from my home. From everything that I’ve ever known. You’re the first man that I’ve ever slept with. And we can’t even figure out how to work things out between us like we would if… If we were two normal people. What if we had been two normal people who had sex up there on the mountain? Wasn’t that what you wanted? To just be normal.”
“Of course it’s what I wanted. But that doesn’t mean that it’s what I get. What I get is to be king. What you get, is to be the Princess. And that is what we have.”
“And us?”
“We have to learn to fit us around our responsibilities. It is something my mother couldn’t do. It is the thing…” He shook his head. “My father couldn’t do it either. Regardless of his intentions, and I believe that they were good. He wanted to show our country that he was stable, but he lost an important piece of who he was.”
“And you don’t want to lose yourself.”
“No,” he said. “Because I have not even begun to find myself as a leader.”
Seeing him look uncertain, even for a moment, was an out-of-body experience. She had seen him lying in a pool of his own blood, very nearly lost to the world, and it still hadn’t been this.
And she realized that she wasn’t going to be able to…reach him here. This way.
She was more interested in exploring the relationship between them than she was in royal etiquette. And he was going to insist that royal duty be the thing that drove them.
It wasn’t really fair of her. He had asked her to be his princess, and by default that made her his wife, but that had not been the thing he was primarily interested in. That much was clear.
She let out a long sigh. “What does that mean for us, though?”
“We will be married. As we planned.”
“I don’t…” She realized right then, she had a choice. She could let him continue to flounder separate from her, she could continue trying to protect herself or she could dive right in.
It was terrifying. Because he wasn’t offering her any reassurance that her emotion would be met with emotion. In fact, he was basically promising the opposite. But she didn’t know if she was in love with him, or if she was just entranced by the heat between them. She didn’t know anything but…that she wanted him. That she was unhappy when they were separate. Happier when they were together.
She loved to talk to him. To dance with him. To touch him. She loved being near him, even when it was fraught.
So she took a chance, and she closed the distance between them. She stretched up on her toes, and she kissed his mouth.
He went stiff for a moment, and then, he surrendered.
But it was her who found herself on the receiving end of demands next. He captured the back of her head, deepening the kiss. And she was dizzy with it. Completely consumed by her need for him.
“I can’t give you any more than this,” he growled.
“I didn’t ask for anything more.” That was the promise that she made herself, and her heart.
He was giving her all of this. And she wanted to feel physically close to him. She wasn’t going to trick herself into believing that for him that meant love. And she wasn’t going to let herself believe that it was anything quite so simple either.
But she was desperate to feel close.
And she was committing to taking him at face value. Because the truth was…she had been so lost in her own pain, and her desire to feel special, and she hadn’t given any thought to his.
His mother’s abandonment was clearly what drove him.
And it mattered to him. It mattered to him so much that he didn’t repeat the same mistakes his father did, but also, she suspected, it mattered to him that he didn’t care again only to be abandoned. So she poured commitment into that kiss. Everything she had, everything she was. And impossibly, she found herself aroused again. But it was different. This time, it wasn’t just about sex, wasn’t just about physical desire. It was about making a promise to him with her body.
They hadn’t known each other long. And sometimes she thought they didn’t know each other well, but she knew the essence of who he was. She knew the man he pretended to be, and she knew the one he was as he lay there injured. When he got to be Clem, and not a prince.
And very few other people knew that. She had met him simply as himself. Not with all of this pomp and circumstance. All the authority that he had been carrying then had simply come from within, not from a title bestowed upon him by men and a bloodline that stretched past generations.
She had seen him. In a way that likely few other people ever got to.
And this time, he picked her up and carried her to the bed, laying her down in the center of the soft mattress. This felt like a wedding night.
Her heart felt tender, sore. She looked up at him, and she knew.
She knew what she felt. She’d been trying to tell herself it wasn’t love. She’d been trying to tell herself that it wasn’t anything half so dramatic.
But it was. Because she was. She was utterly and completely undone by this, and by him. By the certainty that she knew him. They had nearly died together. And now they could choose to live together. But they were going to have to choose it. He was still afraid, she was too. She didn’t know what that meant. As far as where they could get to, how far they could go, she didn’t have a clue.
But she wanted to try. She didn’t want to close herself off out of fear. It would be like…never flying again because of what happened. It would be like sitting down in a chair and fading away into nothing.
Her heart nearly broke. Because she loved her father more than anything, but she also knew that when it came right down to it, not chasing after this with Adonis was doing what her father had done, if only prematurely. And she never would. That was her vow.
She wanted to live. Right now, she felt like she wanted to live a life with Adonis. But she couldn’t control him. She couldn’t control what he did, she couldn’t control what he felt. She didn’t have that kind of power.
But she had strength. She had to trust that. Had to trust herself.
To be strong, even if she had to go through a heartbreak.
To try, even if there was no guarantee of success.
Maybe, all along, she didn’t have to wait to be wanted enough, or for somebody to prove to her she was special. Maybe she simply needed to believe that she was.
She took her clothes off again, in as big of a hurry as she had been the first time. And he removed his. Having her body pressed to his as they lay in the bed was…luxury.
Being held by him was a luxury.
She had never known a man like him. She had never known anyone like him. His kisses consumed her, and she consumed him right back.
His hands traced magic over her skin, and she maneuvered herself so that she was on top of him. She kissed his neck, his chest, moved down and examined that full, glorious masculinity of his. Then she leaned in, tasting him, testing him with her mouth.
He groaned, his hand going to her hair. She felt strong, powerful, even in the subservient position. Because he wanted her, and that was her power. It was her strength.
She could keep him with her. Could keep him interested. As long as they had this.
She moved her tongue over him, relishing the salty, masculine flavor. Then she took him into her mouth, her whole body alight with need for him.
She moved over the top of him as he was coming to the end of his control, and captured his lips. He gripped her hips, and positioned her over his arousal. She impaled herself on him, no longer the shy, tentative virgin she had been the first time she had ridden astride him.
She rode him as the storm consumed them both. As his hold tightened on her, and release began to build at her core.
And then when they found it together, they cried out in unison, united at least in this. And she knew that she could never let him withdraw from their physical pleasure. Because even if she had trouble reaching him through conversation, through romance, she knew she could always find him here.
She lay over his chest, breathing hard. She loved him.
He was going to be her husband. And that mattered so much more than the fact that she was going to be princess.
Finally, Stevie felt like she had found herself in the middle of the storm. And she was very, very grateful to discover that it turned out she was strong, special and complete all on her own.