kissed her slowly, gently, coaxing a response from her, at first warm and sweet, and then warm and sweet became desperate and hot. His lips parted hers and his tongue took her mouth and Hannah wound her arms up around his neck, unable to get close enough.
She needed him, wanted him, wanted everything with him—marriage, and babies, and growing old together—but she wouldn’t have that, she’d only have this.
And she’d take this, all of this, and somehow she’d make it be enough.
She could feel the stubble on his jaw, smell that subtle cologne he wore, taste the wine on his tongue.
“Need you,” she murmured against his mouth, as she slipped her fingers into the short crisp hair at his nape. “Need you so much …”
He broke off the kiss, lifting his head to look down at her. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths and his eyes were cloudy with desire and she reached up to touch his mouth with her fingertips, awed by everything she felt for him.
It was magnificent.
And terrifying.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. “I honestly can’t get enough of you.” “Then don’t.”
Jaw thick, eyes narrowed, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to a broken stone in the shadows of the turret and set her on the edge. Pushing back her skirt he exposed her bare legs and parted her pale thighs to reveal the scrap of thong she wore. “Unbelievably hot,” he growled, lightly running a fingertip over the damp silk thong between her thighs, making the fabric even wetter.
She gasped as his finger traced her swollen lips again and again, making her thighs quiver and her insides clench with need.
“So wet,” he muttered, fascinated by the bit of silk outlining her most intimate places, and stroking it even more slowly to feel her shudder against his hand.
“And so eager for more,” he added, voice rough, raspy, before pulling the scrap of silk away from her body. He swore beneath his breath as he caught sight of her inner lips and her pink, glistening core.
Hannah clutched the sides of the broken stone she sat on, unable to breathe. No man had looked at her so closely, so intently and she tried to close her thighs but Zale was crouching between, his thighs holding hers open.
“What is it about you?” he groaned, lightly sliding his fingers up and down the wet tender flesh. “Why do you do this to me?”
She jumped and cried out as his fingertips brushed against her, the nub already so sensitive she thought she might explode. “It’s not … me …” she panted, fire licking her skin, making her burn, ache. “It’s … you.”
“No. I’ve never needed or wanted a woman the way I want you.”
She gripped the stone even harder as he focused his attention on her, teasing the small nub, using the pad of his thumb to draw small light circles against the slick ridge.
Hannah could feel the pressure building within her, the coil of desire growing hotter, tighter, fiercer. She was close to climaxing but was too aware that Zale watched her face as he touched her, reading her emotions and reactions. It was sexy and yet scary—to be so open in front of a man—physically and emotionally.
There was so much at risk, she thought, struggling to breathe, already too dizzy. If she wasn’t comfortable he’d see just how much she wanted him to take her, own her, make her forever his.
“Come,” he said, “I want to watch you come.”
She shook her head even as her body jerked and jumped, nerve endings stretched to breaking. “Can’t,” she choked, skin hot, body burning, desperate to find release but unable to let go when he’d watch her fall apart. She’d never been wild, never sexually adventurous, her college boyfriend going so far as to complain that she was boring in bed, but with Zale she felt positively daring.
Desperate.
Wanton.
“Yes, you can,” he insisted.
“N-n-noooo. I c-c-c-can’t,” she stuttered, unable to meet his gaze even as her thighs trembled with the building pressure.
“Why not?” he murmured, gaze intent on her flushed face.
“You’re … watching.”
“I like watching. It gives me pleasure.”
She shook her head, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The tension within her was overwhelming. She couldn’t hang on much longer.
“Then close your eyes.”
She shook her head again and with a growl he parted her knees wider, and leaned in to cover her clitoris with his mouth. He sucked hard and when she bucked against him, he slid a finger into her, a slow upward thrust that hit a certain spot at the exact moment he suckled the nub.
She screamed, the sound wrenched from her as he shattered her control with an orgasm so intense her hips lifted off the stone.
But he didn’t stop.
He kept sucking and thrusting a finger into her, deeper, steadily, rubbing against that magic invisible spot making her feel hot and tingly all over again. She wanted to tell him it’d never work, wanted to tell him she’d never come again but then he blew on her, a warm breath of air before slowly licking the taut ridge and sucking on the tiny tip.
She exploded a second time, screaming his name.
This time Hannah pushed him back with a shaking hand. “No more.”
Still shuddering, she adjusted the wet thong over her swollen sensitive parts and pulled her skirt down over her legs.
“What did you do to me?” she choked out, her entire body rippling with aftershocks.
“What you do to me every time I look at you.”
Hot salty tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. “I think you broke me,” she whispered, still shuddering and shaking.
He smiled crookedly and kissed her knee through her skirt and then higher on her thigh before standing.
She tipped her head back to look up at him. “What about you?” Her gaze dropped to his trousers and the fabric straining over his thick erection. “Don’t you want anything?”
He looked at her for what felt like forever before extending his hand to her. “Yes. But in my room. Putting you on your hands and knees here won’t be comfortable on the stone.”
She gulped a breath. Hands and knees next? She’d never tried that yet. “Maybe we should.”
Zale laughed softly and they made their way back across the parapet and down the circular staircase in the tower until they reached the ground floor.
They were on the way to the King’s Chambers when one of the footmen stopped Zale and said that Mrs. Sivka needed him to help her with Prince Constantine.
Zale’s jaw tightened, concern etched in his features. “I’ll go directly,” he told the footman, before turning to Hannah. “I’ll find you in your room.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Just wait for me.”
She watched Zale walk with the footman toward Prince Constantine’s suite, his stride long, quick. He was worried.
He’s a good brother, she thought, an amazing man.
In her suite, she washed her hands and was still running a brush through her hair when she heard her phone vibrate in the nightstand drawer.
Emmeline!
Hannah raced to retrieve her phone. “Hello?” “Hannah, it’s me.”
Hannah glanced behind her, making sure none of the staff members were nearby