Page 31 of Impossible Heir for the King

His strong legs stretched out either side of her. Encircling her. Reminding her of those moments when he’d held her through that boat journey when she’d been blindfolded. When she’d not known who he was. When she’d not even known she was pregnant. When she’d felt absurdly, yet completely, safe. The safest she’d felt in so very long. Now he ran his hands down her hair, sweeping it from her shoulder, exposing her neck—cooling it. Her breathing slowed.

‘Better?’ A soft query right beside her ear.

She nodded, unable to resist sinking more fully against him and inclining her head so more of her neck was exposed to the delicious, tickling tease of his warm breath on her sensitive skin. He slid his arms around her waist and, giving up her resistance completely, she rested her head on his chest.

‘What do you need, Maia?’

She shook her head imperceptibly. Something she shouldn’t.

‘Maia?’

A question. An admonishment. A prayer. He was so very gentle and she so warm. Yet goose bumps rose on her skin. Being this close to him filled her with the sweetest, sharpest longing. Every cell yearned for contact with him.

‘I cannot resist you,’ he muttered.

‘But you want to.’

‘Because it’s what’s...honourable.’

‘Is it honourable to refuse a woman—’ She broke off on a sigh as his fingertips glided to her breast.

‘Is that what I would be doing?’ he asked. ‘Then I won’t refuse you.’

Her bikini top slipped down so easily—exposing her breasts to the air and her nipples to his hands—to the teasing swirls of his fingertips, to a pinch and a soothing stroke. To his palms as he cupped her. She moaned at the press of his mouth on her neck. He kissed, licked, sucked...savouring. And she just heated. Melted.

‘You never wanted me before,’ she muttered sadly.

His laughter was soft. ‘I never met you before.’

‘You said this happening was extremely unlikely.’

‘I was being rude because at that time I was feeling extremely provoked.’ He pressed another kiss on the side of her neck. ‘I’m never going to be sorry for this, Maia. Will you be? Because if so, we need to stop now.’

‘Don’t stop.’

He stroked down her belly with a gentle hand that she couldn’t resist. Her breath caught as he hit the band of her bikini bottoms. He had one hand between her legs now but not beneath the stretchy fabric of her bikini bottoms. She whimpered, wanting his touch, aching for him to explore her even more intimately. To be in her. Instead those fingers simply teased. Skating over where she was most sensitive. Where deep inside she was slick and soft for him. Her moans escaped, louder, and she moved restlessly, instinctively seeking more. In the drowsy heat of the afternoon she had to close her eyes and somehow he knew. His hold on her tightened and he encased her in a velvety heat.

‘No one but me can see you. No one but me can hear you. There’s only us.’ The possessive satisfaction in his whisper turned her on even more. ‘Trust me, Maia.’

She spread her hands wide on his thighs, savouring the tense muscles beneath, the sensual pleasure of pressing them so he closed his hold more tightly around her. This was what she liked. Being cocooned by him. Not just embraced. But overwhelmed. Overpowered. And yet, she felt such freedom in his hold.

‘Let go, Maia,’ he commanded. ‘I’ve got you.’

But his hands coaxed. They were so gentle, so relentlessly, devastatingly, frustratingly gentle. She tensed as every muscle locked—strung out in the agony of arousal she was so, so close to breaking.

‘Now, darling.’ A gravelly whisper.

Her cry was rough and raw as she shuddered and her hands curled like claws into his strong thighs. He pressed them closer still. He was literally her vise. Holding her even as he shattered her. And in the long tumultuous shudders of ecstasy he held her closer still.

Niko wasn’t living the rest of his life without touching Maia the way she wanted to be touched. He wasn’t saying no to her.Ever. He wanted her and he would have her regardless of any damned consequences. Because she wanted him too. He believed in honesty. In taking the good things where and when they could be found. Because life was full of difficulties. For everyone.

‘There’s nothing wrong with pleasure, Maia,’ he said quietly when she’d stilled in his arms and had been silent for a little too long for his comfort.

‘I know.’ She twisted her head to look at him and there was strength and quiet dignity in her gaze. ‘I haven’t had it. Not nearly enough ofanykind of pleasure and honestly, none sexually. Not like that. But I want more. Can you deliver?’

His heart stopped. ‘I’ll do my best.’ But for once his confidence faltered and confusion rose. ‘We just need to burn this out,’ he said huskily, trying to reassure himself as much as her. ‘It’s a distraction. We get through it and move forward. Then we can think again.’

She gazed into his eyes, her own slightly dazed. ‘It’s like that for you too?’

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