The Night the King Claimed Her - Page 64

‘Your Majesty?’ She dared him. She couldn’t resist.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and she was trapped between him and the table. She read agony in his eyes, but as he slid his other hand beneath the hem of her dress she widened her legs. A growl emerged as he skated a fingertip across her panties.

‘You’re ready for me,’ he muttered.

‘From the moment you walked in.’ She wanted the wildness. She wanted to soothe the man constrained inside that uniform. She wanted to embrace the feeling he had for her.

It took a mere moment to unzip him. For him to step forward. He gazed into her eyes.

‘Take pleasure from me, Felipe.’ She tossed his words at him.

The permission he’d once given, she gave back to him. And he took it. Took her. Right there, upright against the table. She hooked her leg around his, her arms around his shoulders, and clung as he thrust.

‘Don’t let go of me,’ she begged, barely balanced in his arms. ‘Don’t let go.’

His mouth was hers—hard and passionate—his possession complete and unbridled. He locked into her, driving closer and closer and she went soft—so willing. In seconds his passion sent her over the edge and he cried out in feral agony as he followed.

Shockingly hard. Shockingly quick. Shockingly over.

His hands bit her waist. He ensured her feet had found the floor then stepped back. Her dress dropped into place.

‘Elsie...’ He was pale and she saw his fingers trembled as he fixed his trousers. There was such regret in his tone.

Both dressed. Both undone.

Felipe couldn’t look at her as his brain came back online and his horror grew. ‘I apologise.’

He did not lose it like that. Ever. He did not put his entire future at risk. Or hers.

‘That shouldn’t have happened.’ He cleared his throat.

Noneof this should have happened. He couldn’t even blame alcohol or a hangover—he hadn’t touched anything all evening save three mouthfuls of champagne at last night’s dinner. Utterly sober, he’d been drunk on desire, on desperation. High on the heat of her. He’d been so dutiful his entire life and suddenly he’d been so damned out of control.

He swore. ‘I didn’t use protection. I’m so sorry.’

He loathed himself that second.

She watched him warily. ‘Don’t worry about that, I’m on the pill. It’s easier when I’m travelling.’ She swallowed. ‘You haven’t just got me pregnant.’

He stared at her, trying to process what had just happened, what she’d just said. His horror deepened as he realised he was feeling a flicker of disappointment. Because if there had been a chance of her being pregnant he could have stopped her from leaving. She would’ve had to stay. Only until she’d seen a doctor. But then he could have stopped her from seeing a doctor...

The escalating thoughts horrified him. The train of imaginings—of making her stay? That wasn’t just selfish and controlling, it would be ruthless and insane. The absolute spoilt whim of a dictator used to getting everything he wanted. Everything his own way—like his grandfather after all.

‘It still shouldn’t have happened,’ he said hoarsely. Because he hadn’t known she was covered. He’d gone ahead and taken the risk—without even thinking about it. Without giving a damn.

‘Don’t regret it.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Please don’t say that was a mistake.’

‘It was.’ He swallowed.

Heaven help him, he wanted it again. He wanted to pull her into his arms and rest against her. He wanted to turn his back on the world and forget about everything else in his damned life. So right now he was his father. So selfish he’d ignore all other responsibility. When right now, just beyond these palace walls, crowds of people were depending on him, waiting for him. How could he want to forget them all and give everything up just for a woman? For sex. For the best ride of his life.

It was so weak. He’d be betraying his country. Breaking the word he’d given to his grandfather. Becoming everything he’d vowed he’d never be...

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. ‘This whole thing was a mistake.’

Elsie paled, her anger obviously mounting. He didn’t blame her. She should be angry with him. He was angry with himself. That he’d been momentarily tempted to do everything wrong to keep her with him? To cheat and lie and do whatever it took? He loathed the man he could devolve into. Out of control. Selfish. Possessive. Utterly uncaring of everything else. And she would become so miserable.

He could never let it happen.

Tags: Natalie Anderson Billionaire Romance
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