Page 44 of Back to Claim His Crown
He stared at her with such intensity her too-vulnerable heart melted. She had to stop this conversation now. She couldn’t expose herself any more than she just had.
‘But we haven’t left this roomyet,’ she muttered in one last surrender. ‘And I’ve not yet seen you fully naked...’
He suddenly swooped.
‘Lucian—’
‘Indulge me,’ he said huskily. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the throne. ‘I don’t want to crush you. I want to see you too.’
He set her on her feet and quickly stripped them both of the last clothes tangled between them. Then he sat back on the throne and lifted her again so she straddled his lap. That meant she got an up close and wonderful view of his chest. As he did of hers. And that meant there was then a battle of playful kisses and nips and tweaks and tongues until in the end there was only wild movement and absolute abandonment. Again.
And then—even when they were exhausted and sweaty—again. It was a slow, aching indulgence and so tender her eyes watered. She had to close them to hide the tears from him. But he knew anyway because she couldn’t seem to hide anything from him. He simply cradled her close and neither spoke a word.
It was a long,longtime later before she pulled the remnants of her dress back on. She paused at the door and glanced to where he remained sprawled alone in that massive chair, needing to admit one last truth of her own.
‘I’ll always be glad I did this with you first, Lucian.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEANGERWASBACK. She was pleased she’d done that with him first, was she? The predator within him wanted to be herfirstandonlyandalways. But he couldn’t be. He knew with his brain that Zara was right in calling a halt to any affair before it had really begun. His blood, however, was dead certain she was wrong.
She’d been so brave—leaving her home, prepared to make a deal in the hope of a better life; resilient in the face of public rejection and the worse private rejection of her family; courageous in standing up to him and saying what she needed. She was tough. He wished she would take a little more solace—steal a little more pleasure—with him. Yes, in these weak moments he changed his mind completely. He ached for more time alone with her. Fortunately for him, she was strong—determined to maintain her new boundaries. Because shewasleaving and what they shared was perhaps too intense.
She was right about other things too. Hehaddenied himself pleasure all this time. And didn’t it serve him right that the one woman he now wanted was unavailable to him? Because, of course, he would respect her decision. This was a woman who needed agency. To take control of her own life. She wanted her independence. But Princess All-or-Nothing had twisted that on him again in the most frustrating way.
Yet thank goodness she had, because he had that lifetime of work ahead of him. But, in truth, his return to claim the Crown had gone better than he’d ever imagined it would. He was extremely busy but there was no crisis in the country. He just had to stay calm and stick to the plan. Keep going. Step by step. And that meant not seducing Zara again. That meant regaining his self-control entirely.
Monrayne now needed global recognition of its stability and he knew exactly how to prove that. The next day he visited another town and then lost track of time in planning after his return. Which meant he was very late for dinner by the time he realised the hour. Naturally she’d long left the dining room so he went searching and found her in the library, sorting through the never-ending letters now that she’d finished with the books.
‘You dined without me,’ he said mock-balefully.
‘Did you expect me to wait when you were so very late?’ she countered archly.
‘Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of making you go hungry, Princess.’ He was unable to resist a little verbal tease. He didn’t think it possible for them to end that altogether.
She shot him a look. ‘And I haven’t.’ Her smile widened to the point that a dimple appeared in her cheek. ‘I even have some supper.’ She gestured with her hand and he saw a laden tray on the table behind her. ‘Would you like to share?’ she asked blandly.
Their favourite displacement activity again? He promptly sat down.
Zara nudged the tray nearer. ‘I’m sure you must be hungry. You don’t eat when you’re on show.’
He mustered a faint smile. ‘I genuinely don’t feel hungry when I’m out there.’
‘I know.’ She nodded in complete acceptance. ‘You’re concentrating hard on everything else. Knowing everyone’s names, keeping tabs on what they’re all doing and saying.’
He nodded. That was exactly it.
‘So have something to eat now.’ She picked up a piece of cheese and bit into it with a cheeky smile. ‘Before I eat it all.’
‘Temptress,’ he jeered softly.
‘I do try.’
He leaned unnecessarily close to her as he reached to select a small slice of tart. ‘I wish you really would.’
The look she shot him then was sharper. He chuckled as he chewed. The bone-deep weariness morphed into an aching cross between contentment and yearning. He wasrelaxed, with another person present—frankly, a miracle. But it wasbecauseof the other person present. Only he wanted more from her still.
‘I’m going to hold a ball.’ He told her his plans to keep himself on track. ‘To show the world that the situation here in Monrayne has settled and that I’m here to stay. It seems a shame to waste the fireworks that were planned for Anders’s celebrations.’
