Page 49 of His Highness's Hidden Heir

“I know. I’m not insulting you. It’s astrength. That’s why I want you by my side, Lexi. I’m proud of you. I like being out with you.”

His words went into her like the sweetest blade, pushing tears into her eyes. Did he really say he wasproudof her?

Magnus didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. She’d learned that much about him.

They kissed again and she clung to his shoulders, thinking,I’m falling. This is what it means to fall in love.

It was a visceral sensation that was both beautiful and terrifying. In another world, falling in love with her husband would be ideal, but as she regained her physical strength, she was losing the battle to keep her heart.

Did she need to guard it, though? Magnus was incredibly protective of her. As they began making appearances across Isleif, the slightest overstep by anyone was glared into apologies by her ferocious husband.

That was the real reason people fell over themselves to please her, she suspected wryly. But his defense of her built her confidence in their marriage and herself.

By the time they landed in New York, she had almost convinced herself she was not that old person the trolls loved to vilify.

They arrived to a crowd rabid with excitement and a friendly press conference that was mostly photos. Lexi did one softball interview with a morning show where she talked about being a new mother. Rolf made a brief appearance, sending the studio audience into coos of adoration. Being his father’s son, Rolf scowled once at the lights and cameras, then ignored them in favor of rooting for her breast.

Lexi then attended a handful of meet-and-greets with Magnus, shaking hands with the president. She spent a couple of hours helping serve lunch at a shelter and visited children in a hospital.

High on her success, she came into their hotel bedroom to find Magnus undressing for his shower. She was in her robe, having just showered herself, since they were expected at a mixer this evening.

“I just did something scary.”

“What’s that?” He pulled off his belt and threw it on the chair.

“I told the nanny that we’ll be out for several hours tomorrow, so I think we should have a small rehearsal. I pumped two bottles and told her to see if Rolf will take one when he wakes. Then I said I was going to rest for an hour and not to disturb me.”

Magnus slid his gaze to the bed, then the clock on the table beside it.

“You’re invited,” she clarified. “In case you didn’t know what day it is.”

“I can count,” he assured her as he padded toward her.

When his hand came out, she thought he was going to scoop her around the waist and drag her into him, but he turned the lock on the door behind her.

Then he used both hands to wrench open the robe, throwing it to the floor and leaving her naked and cutting off her scream of shock. She slapped her hand over her mouth, laughing, certain the staff would hear her, but he was already picking her up so her legs had to wind around his waist while he walked her to the bed and came down on top of her.

“I will make every single one of the next sixty minutes count,” he promised as he dragged his mouth to her throat and left a wet kiss there.

“The doctor said it might be uncomfortable. I might need lube. There’s some in my makeup bag.” She looked toward the bathroom.

“I’ll fetch it if we need it.” He looked up from circling his tongue on her distended nipple, then reached between them to tear her underwear away, leaving a small friction burn near her hip. “But we never have before, have we?”

And down his mouth went, pausing to skim lightly over the numb line of her scar before he parted her folds and anointed her, preparing her. Driving her to the brink of orgasm within moments, then leaving her panting and whimpering in loss as he stood to tear off his own clothes.

When he came back down on her, she opened arms and legs to welcome him. She groaned with delight at the feel of his splayed hand possessing her ass, holding her steady as he carefully forged into her. She bit her lip, experiencing a virgin-like sting, but reveling in it because his nostrils were flaring and his eyes were blazing and he shook with the effort to hold on to his control.

She loved him, she acknowledged as a brilliant glow filled her. She loved this man who claimed her, groaning in helpless need, and folded himself across her.

This was the man she had met in Paris, the one who consumed her, but it was also the man who had come to know that she liked a caress in her lower back while they made love. One who knew he could rise on his knees and arch her over his arm and tell her to make herself come so he could feel it. One who held back so he could arouse her again and again, tipping her over the edge and picking her up until she was glassy-eyed with sexual excess, utterly his.

Thenhe unleashed himself, letting his shout of gratification fill the room.

And, because they still had eleven minutes, he dragged her into the shower where he gently soaped her and set tender kisses on her heavy eyelids and told her she was too sexy for words and that she would be his downfall.

She laughed, drunk on eroticism, but that word—downfall—came back to her later, haunting her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

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