Page 37 of Crowned For The King's Secret

‘It’s like he’s everywhere. This man, he’ll never stop, will he? We’ll never be safe.’

If Gregorio couldn’t have what he wanted—Nic—then Sandro wasn’t sure what desperation might make him do. Victoria was right: his cousin would likely never rest. They’d all been fooled into complacency, so desperate for peace they hadn’t recognised the covert war still being waged.

No more.

‘I’ve promised to keep you safe, and I will. I’llneverlet anyone harm you.’

‘I’m scared, Sandro.’

He wanted to grab her, draw her into his arms, absorb her energy and vibrancy into himself, but he knew the steps he should take here were tentative. Victoria was unlike anyone else around him. No matter how trapped she might be, she always gave off a sense of freedom. He envied it, wanted to soak some in for himself. He’d never been free; he knew that now. Any thought he might be had all been a carefully cultivated illusion.

Instead of hauling her into him as he craved to do, he held out his hand, palm up. Inviting her. A strange concept when he’d come to expect people around him would simply do what he wanted. But not Victoria, never her. She was everything complicated about his existence, when all he’d sought in the past was order.

That might have been enough to make him pause. He’d spent a life determined to need no one. Not physically or emotionally. Yet he allowed himself to crave her.

Victoria slipped her hand into his and it jolted like a shock, stunning him. That small touch wiping his brain clean. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. The mere brush of his lips and she gave a pleasured exhale. Her pupils dark in the blue-grey stone of her eyes. Her mouth partly open, as if she’d been shocked too. Sandro couldn’t explain it, this connection. He knew Victoria’s body now, what she liked. What made her gasp and cry out in pleasure. Both of their nights together had been a journey of discovery, making love till dawn, learning each other’s desires. Yet each time they touched it was like the first time. That same sense of wonder and excitement. Would it ever feel familiar?

Sandro threaded his fingers through hers and drew her into him.

‘I vow to protect you, with all that I have. And I promise, you don’t need to fearforme. The only thing I risk becoming addicted to, Victoria, is you.’

‘Sandro.’

Her voice was a whisper as he slid his free hand behind her head, leaned in and kissed her, her lips soft, tasting like berries. Her mouth opened under his and he couldn’t help seeking more of a taste. She reminded him of the sweetest lazy summers, in those few moments as a teenager he’d had a crush on some girl and he’d dreamed of possibility. Now, with her, he felt as if there were more than possibilities open to him. He drew the thread of them together, once again spinning a future. She’d rejected him once, but he knew he’d been wrong in his approach. This, their connection, they could build onthat. He wouldn’t give up on it. In truth, he couldn’t.

Victoria’s fingers tightened in his as her free hand slipped behind his head into his hair. Their kiss deepened, slow, luxurious, as if they had all the time in the world. The blood roared in his ears, the need to take her, make love to her, make herhis, driving him on.He was hard, aching for her when she let go of his hand, stood and straddled him.Sandro groaned as she rocked on his body. He wrapped his hands round her, drew her into him. With each flex of her hips the pleasure spiked like lightning through him. He cupped her breast and stroked it through the fabric of her top, the nipple beading under his fingers as she moaned, her movements harder, more insistent.

‘You want something from me?’ he murmured against her mouth.

‘I wantallof you.’

He wanted to tell her she had it, but he couldn’t because he feared she meant far more than he could ever allow. Something of him would always be held apart. He’d never given himself totally over to anyone. Only in his fantasies. In reality, he belonged to his country. He could never truly belong to a person.

Sandro stood, supporting her in his arms as she squealed. She wrapped her legs tight round his waist. ‘You’re going to let me fall.’

‘Never.’

The word was out of him before he could take it back. He shouldn’t have said it but in this moment, it was the truth, and what was sex if not the ultimate fantasy? He would protect her with his life, but he feared what failing to give all of himself to her might do. Then her lips were on his again and he didn’t care. He walked into his bedroom, with her clinging to him, mouth hungry on his own.

The falling sun painted the room gold. She unhooked her legs as they reached the end of the bed, slid down his body. He released his grip, allowed her. When her feet were on the floor, he slid his hands under her top, her skin roughening with goose-pimples.

‘You should always be naked, then I wouldn’t have to waste time removing your clothes.’

Victoria gave a throaty laugh as he lifted her T-shirt, dropping it to the floor. Undid her bra, so it went the same way.

‘We have plenty of time tonight.’

She wiggled out of her jeans and underwear till she stood before him, naked like a nymph in the glowing evening light. He tugged at the hairband holding her hair in a rough ponytail. It came loose, spilling about her shoulders. Sandro wanted to touch her all over, absorb her, she was so beautiful. He took her into his arms, kissed her hard and fervently, her skin warm and soft under his hands. She ground into him, making desperate noises till she pulled her mouth away.

He smiled as her trembling hands tugged at his shirt. He loved that she was as affected as him. That their need for each other was acute. Urgent. Sandro tore off his own T-shirt as she worked at his jeans, boxers, till they were both naked, the breeze blowing through the open French doors, cool on his overheated skin.

They tumbled to the bed, all searching hands and questing lips, everything slick and needy. Heachedfor her. Feared he’d go too fast when he wanted tonight to be so much more. Victoria’s body was on top of his, her hair a curtain about them. She writhed, moving as if she were desperate almost to crawl inside of him. He could have flipped her over but he wanted to take his time, feeling the slip of her smooth skin under his hands, the glory of her warm body sinuous against his own. Then she sat up, her lips the colour of plums, face flushed, eyes over-bright. Her hair tumbling about her shoulders, skimming her breasts. Looking like a goddess.

Hisgoddess, though he wasn’t sure why that thought assailed him now.

‘Condom,’ he groaned. What he wouldn’t give to slide inside her, unprotected. Yet he’d promised to protect her and he would, inallways.

‘Where?’

---