Page 11 of Wed for their Royal Heir

‘Ah, God, you feel good,’ he growled against her throat. ‘Hot, tight, wet...everything I wanted.’ He drew his hips back, nearly sliding all the way out of her before pushing back in, hard and deep. ‘And tonight, you’remine.’

That last word echoed in her head, and she clutched at it instinctively like a talisman. Yes, she wanted to be his. She wanted to belong to him. He was everywhere, crushing her into the seat of the car, buried deep inside her, his hands beside her head. And she was back in that deserted office, held against the wall, fireworks exploding behind her eyes, for the first time in her life feeling as if she mattered, at least enough to be given this incredible ecstasy.

It had been good back then, but now, held beneath him, his darkened blue gaze holding her fast, it was...transcendent.

Beneath him, no one could touch her. No one could get to her.

She was safe from the world, and she wanted to stay here for ever.

Then he moved again, and Solace was lost.

She clutched at his back, her nails digging into the black cotton of his shirt, every thought in her head crushed by the weight of the pleasure. She lifted her hips, needing more, and he responded, catching her behind the knee and drawing one leg up and around his waist so he could slide deeper.

She groaned, pleasure crackling through her, lighting her up from inside. ‘Oh, Galen...that’s so good.’ The words spilled out of her in a rush. ‘Please, more... Please...’

But he knew, moving faster, driving her into the leather seat as he thrust harder, deeper, devouring her mouth like a starving man. She wasn’t alone in her desperation. She could feel the need in him, in his accelerated breathing and the tension in his muscles, in the low, hungry sounds he made as he moved.

And it came to her dimly that there was power in surrendering to him and to this heat they generated between them.

You could destroy him.

The thought was fleeting, ripped away as the storm built inside her, the weight of the pleasure increasing, pulling taut as a bowstring between them. Then he grabbed her hand and pushed it down between them, pressing her fingers against her own slick flesh as he drove himself inside her, and the orgasm burst over her like a monsoon rain. She only had time to hear his low roar of release before she too was lost in the flood.

At first Galen was conscious of nothing but the most intense feeling of satisfaction spreading through him. But slowly, as reality began to assert itself once more, he became aware of something else, something colder and sharper.

He’d lost control.

When she’d kissed him back in the club, everything had gone out of his head. All he’d been able to think about was how quickly he could get her back to the extremely private residence he sometimes used when he needed a break from the fishbowl that was the palace. Once there, he’d been going to draw things out deliciously with a glass of wine and flirt with her a little, because he’d once loved a flirtation and, since he’d decided he was going to allow himself this one night, he was going to allow himself everything. Only then, would he seduce her.

Yet he’d done none of those things. The moment her fingers had pushed into his hair, and he’d sensed her surrender to him, he’d had her on her back and had been inside her in seconds flat.

The anger he’d felt at himself and his own weakness earlier twisted inside him once again, disturbing the heavy post-orgasmic warmth.

Theos, what was wrong with him?

You know what’s wrong with you. What’s always been wrong with you.

Galen shoved that thought to the darkest corner of his mind. He couldn’t afford self-doubt. For the past ten years he’d ruled well enough, and, apart from that one instance last year, he’d managed to keep his own weaknesses firmly under control, conducting himself with restraint whatever the occasion.

The issue was this woman. This woman and the chemistry that burned hot and strong between them. He hadn’t experienced anything like it, not since...

She stirred beneath him, giving a little wriggle before pushing at his chest. He shifted to give her some room, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at her.

Since that night a year ago.

It was true. Though she was different from the woman who’d caught his interest so completely that night. That woman’s hair had been tightly pulled back from her forehead and pinned into a bun, not that he’d taken that much notice of her hair when it had been her grey eyes that had struck him like lightning, setting him ablaze.

The woman who lay beneath him now had pale hair and it was spread over the black leather of the car seat like white silk, and the eyes that looked up into his were dark as midnight. An unusual combination with her pale skin, currently flushed a deep and pretty rose from the pleasure he’d given her.

She’d had pale skin too, remember? And she looked at you just the way this woman is looking at you now.

Yes, but many women had pale skin, and that look of wide-eyed wonder was something he was familiar with. He was a king, after all, and that intimidated people.

Yet he couldn’t shake that strange sense of familiarity.

‘What?’ she asked, the colour deepening in her cheeks.

He didn’t reply immediately, still studying her. Where had he seen her? Surely if he’d met her before, he’d have remembered.

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