Page 51 of The Throne Seeker
“But what about you?” she asked. “Would you be happy there?”
“As long as I had you.” He kissed her temple. “I never thought I’d be king. I knew there was a slight chance if something happened to Xavier, but I never planned this. I’d be disappointed if I didn’t become king, but I’d live… I just can’t stomach Grant being the next king of Cathan. The thought alone gives me the determination to win.” He gave a harsh laugh as a pause fell. “Are you worried?”
She sat up to face him. “I just don’t want whatever happens to change… this.” She cupped his cheek.
He wrapped his hand around her wrist, pressing her hand firmer against his face. “How do I get it through to you? Each and every bone in my body belongs to you. Every drop of blood, every daydream, every simple breath—hell, even every inappropriate thought belongs to you. I think of you every chance I get because seeing you isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. And in case you ever foolishly forget, I’m nevernotthinking of you.”
Her eyes fluttered as tears pricked; never had a man spoken to her like that. The absence of affection with her father had never let her believe that love could exist. She didn’t know what to say. How to tell him how much those words meant to her.
Her mouth became dry. “I love you, Tristan,” she whispered.
It was the first time she’d uttered those words to him.
His body stiffened beneath hers. He gazed at her like he was questioning if he’d imagined it. Once they sank in, his steady eyes wavered. “And I’m the luckiest man alive because of it.” He drew her in, kissing her temple again.
This time, he lingered close, his gaze shifting to her lips then back to her eyes.
The last of her willpower failed. She settled herself onto his lap. “Kiss me,” she coaxed in the softest, most persuasive voice possible.
His jaw clenched, resisting the command. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Her eyes grew together, hurt.
“Because if I start… it’ll be the end of me,” he whispered, as if he knew that once he got a taste, there would be no going back.
“No… it’ll be thestart.” Her hands grazed his soft, blond hair, sliding her fingers through the smooth curls.
Unable to hold back any longer, she closed the gap and pressed her lips against his, moving slowly and gently as she molded them together.
For a moment, he was unresponsive. Terror surged through her veins, wondering if she’d made a grave mistake.
She was about to crawl into a hole from embarrassment when his lips came alive, responding to hers.
He drank from her like she was a bottomless well, as though he’d been roaming the seas with no fresh water, and she was the first drop he’d come upon in weeks. He quenched his thirst greedily for fear he’d be dragged back to sea.
It wasn’t like their first kiss. No, that kiss, initiated by Tristan over a year ago, was quick, nervous, and impulsive. This kiss was intentional. Purposeful. Deliberate. Grown.
He combed his fingers through her hair, settling at the nape of her neck. She suppressed a contented sigh.
Within moments, their breaths became heavy.
His hands roamed over her back, moving down to her hips, drawing her closer.
She encircled his neck with her arms, pressing herself as close as she physically could. It was better than she’d everimagined. To finally feel him like this—to know what he tasted like beyond those lips was all she’d dreamed of.
In one fluid motion, Tristan guided her onto her back, his form hovering above hers.
His lips left hers to graze her neck, caressing it with the utmost grace.
Without warning, he ground his hips into hers.
A soft, grateful moan slipped from her lips.
He grappled a fistful of sheets at the mere sound.
The next moment, he was gone, shooting upward off the bed.
His wild hands tangled in his hair, pulling at it as he gasped for breath. “Damn you, Rose,” he growled, pacing on the rug.
