Page 17 of A Ring to Claim Her Crown
She was not a virgin now. Nor was he feeling particularly gentlemanly, judging by the way he pushed her back against the tree while his fingers frantically worked at the delicate pearl buttons at her throat. The front of her dress came open slowly, her simple cotton bra revealed to him inch by inch. His big hands splayed over the soft material, rubbing against her tautened nipples through the thin barrier. She sighed at the contact, fighting the urge to take over and remove both of their clothing quickly and efficiently.
She needed to feel his skin against hers, to enjoy it before either of them had time to rethink this madness. His lips teased her earlobe, kissing a hot path down the side of her neck. He flexed himself against her, clever hands peeling the fabric of her bra down so he could take one hard nipple into his mouth. Goose flesh spread down both of her arms and she braced herself against the rough surface of the tree trunk in an effort to remain standing; the pleasure was so intense.
He growled against her skin and she threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him in place as he worshipped her breasts. She hadn’t realised how much she needed this. The tension of the past few days seemed to ebb away with every long, languorous lick of his perfect tongue. His hands followed the curve of her waist down to her skirt, pulling the fabric upwards. She felt cool air on her upper thighs as she impatiently reached back and pulled the zipper downwards so that the material could be pulled up around her waist.
He paused for a moment, something dark and unreadable in his narrowed gaze, before he took her hips in both hands and held her tight against the evidence of his arousal. His fingers hooked into the lace of her panties and pulled them to one side, giving him direct access to the hot centre of her. With each small circling of his fingertip, she tightened and moaned, grinding up against him. When he slowly slid one finger inside her, she thought she might expire completely. Her mind short-circuited, and for a brief moment of madness she wondered if her body might have forgotten what it was supposed to do.
But Liro clearly wasn’t worried. He growled words of encouragement, asking if she needed more. She was vaguely aware of herself nodding, begging, until he added a second finger. Almost immediately, she felt as if she was seconds from shattering, emotionally and physically. She had resigned herself never to feel like this again, and now here she was, running headfirst back into the fire. Her barely contained moans only seemed to spur Liro on.
She bit down on her fist, fearing they might be heard if she completely lost control. He pulled her hand away from her mouth, his eyes dark pools of desire as he worked his magic.
‘Come for me,’ he urged under his breath. ‘Let me hear you.’
She did as she was told, breaking apart in sensuous abandon and crying out without any regard for decency. She felt as though her body was unravelling with every slick movement of him inside her, the pleasure so intense she thought she might cry with relief. She was vaguely aware that he had begun stroking himself during their interlude and, before she even had the clarity to try to return the pleasure he’d given her, he growled low in his throat, his own release taking him over. It felt painfully intimate, watching him lose control so quickly, as though they had gone straight back in time to their trysts as young lovers.
For a split second, she worried that this was the moment the bubble would burst. But then Liro took one long look at her and cursed under his breath, leaning down to take her lips again roughly. Minerva melted into his kiss, her mind refusing to come back to earth after the intensity of her orgasm. She had forgotten what it was like to completely surrender herself to passion like this. To lose herself in it.
But, as he took a step back to clean away the evidence of his own pleasure, she felt the first cold breeze of reality threatening to creep back in. The silence spread between them as he helped her to put her dress to rights, his strong hands smoothing the ivory material back down over her hips. It was a strange thing, silence. Minerva imagined it like a wave of icy rain, snuffing out any embers of desire that might have remained. It created a distance between them, far more uncomfortable and insidious than words could ever achieve.
Minerva ducked her face away from his gaze, feeling so vulnerable and over-exposed she could hardly bear it. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time and glanced up to see a deep frown marring his brow. He reached out, brushing some leaves from her hair, and her chest tightened at the tenderness of such a simple gesture. But still, he didn’t speak.
She cleared her throat softly, forcing herself to stand tall and look at the man who stood silent and looming a short space away. ‘The auction starts soon... I have to go back.’
‘I’ll walk you.’
‘We both know it’s best if you don’t. I can’t risk anyone finding us together...digging into your identity.’ She shook her head, holding herself at a distance. ‘This has to stop now, thisthingbetween us. It needs to stop.’
‘That would certainly be the most sensible course of action,’ he drawled.
‘It’s the only course of action. Unless you fancy blowing up your fancy new life and inciting a royal scandal.’
‘If anything, the revelation would cause Magnabest stocks to rise. I choose to live a life of privacy because it suits me. It brings me peace...’ He looked down at her. ‘You should try it out some time. I think life at sea would suit you...the sun kissing your skin while you recline on the deck...sea salt springing your hair into the wild curls they always make you tame down... Would you let me take you on an adventure, Min?’
‘Perhaps. If things were different...’ she whispered. He’d moved closer again and she swayed into him for a brief moment. His warm breath fanned the delicate skin below her neck. It was such a wonderful fantasy of relaxation; she could almost smell the sea breeze on the air. She swallowed hard against the knot of emotion that had formed in her throat, meeting his gaze. ‘But we both know things are not different. I have to go... It’s my—’
‘Your duty, of course.’ He nodded, one hand rubbing the back of his head in a movement that seemed so tense and at odds with the passion of moments before. ‘I suppose this was the one area of things that we never had a problem with.’
Minerva bit the inside of her lip, feeling suddenly cold. For a brief window of time, his strong, muscular body had felt so warm against her, so right. For a moment she had seen the old Liro, the one she had longed for all those years ago. But now, with this cool distance between them, she knew that he was right—they had always had sexual chemistry. Even when she’d known she was about to be forced to marry him, she had wanted to cling onto the passion between them like a sticking plaster.
With one final touch of her hand against his cheek, she turned and walked away. It took every ounce of self-control she had not to break into a run. She held her arms tightly by her sides, a deep shiver coursing through her, even though the early summer night was warm and fragrant. She closed her eyes, refusing to give in to the sudden wave of sadness that had turned her legs leaden and cold.
She would not cry.
She’d done enough crying over Prince Oliveiro of Cisneros to last her a lifetime; she wouldn’t do the same for his new alter ego, no matter how much more beautiful and confident he had become. She had spent years believing that she had got over the boy who had broken her heart, only to realise that the break was only held together with tape. Now it felt as if that tape had split, leaving her feeling just as raw and vulnerable as she had on the day she’d realised he’d abandoned her.
She’d chosen to kiss him and open all of these feelings back up again. She’d let him touch her, let him give her pleasure... The idea that this place,their place, was now the scene for yet another goodbye between them was an unbearably cruel twist of fate. But at least this time she knew that was what it was. At least, this time, she had been the one to walk away.
Liro had no idea how long he remained beside the lake, trying to calm down the riotous beating of his heart. When he finally emerged onto the open palace grounds, the long driveway was filled with cars. Elegant guests in tuxedos and evening gowns ambled around the gardens, bathed in the glow of the lamps. He walked alongside them, not caring that he looked dishevelled and unkempt in his sand-coloured chinos. He hadn’t planned to attend the auction, not when Minerva had made it so clear that she wanted him gone. So why then did he find himself wandering through the glass orangery? The soothing sounds of string music enveloped him, the scent of exotic plants filling his lungs. A waiter passed by him with a tray full of drinks. Liro grabbed two.
It was the correct order of things, he reminded himself as the first glass of whatever kind of alcohol it was burned down his throat. Minerva was about to become queen, for goodness’ sake. While he... Well, he had never fitted into royal life, even when he had been a prince. As if confirming his thoughts, an older woman passed by, glaring down at his informal attire, and Liro let out a harsh laugh.
This world placed so much emphasis on how one looked, how closely one kept to the narrow paths assigned to every member of ‘polite’ society at birth. There was nothing polite about how people stared at him as he stood in their midst, daring to have his sleeves rolled up and tattoos on display. He knew that he looked every inch the sailor he had been for the past decade. Minerva knew that too. He had always despised the confines of this world, chafed against it. So why, then, was he so resistant to leaving?
His father had blamed his youngest son’s yearning for freedom on selfishness. They had never spoken again after the day he’d demanded Liro propose. Liro had believed himself selfish too, for a long time. He’d believed any number of terrible things about himself, a natural result of being raised in such a hostile environment. He knew now that he wasn’t terrible, but that didn’t mean he was good.
A good man would have felt remorse for what had just happened with Minerva at the lake. A good man would have left the first time she’d told him to. He knew that he wasn’t good enough for her—that had never been up for debate. But Minerva had been so wound up and desperately in need of care. He knew how to care for her. He knew what she needed.
He took a slower sip from the second glass, staring down at the ice cubes floating in the amber liquid. He had hoped to give them both some form of closure, a thought he had believed he could achieve. But, as he had watched her walls return in the wake of the orgasm he’d wrung from her body, the world had crashed back in upon her shoulders... and he had never felt further from closure with Minerva Argimon-Talil.
