The Cogsmith's Daughter (Desertera #1)(65)

Okay. One. Two. Three.

Turning around, Aya grabbed King Archon’s head with both hands and smashed her lips into his. She kept her eyes shut tight, but she forced her lips to move against his quickly, as if she were eager. She opened her mouth a fraction of an inch, and the king took the bait, licking the bottom of her lip before pushing his tongue into her mouth. His rough tongue grated against hers, and he shoved it around her mouth furiously, as if he wanted to turn her inside out. Even though it was small comfort, she couldn’t help thinking that Willem was a much gentler kisser with a much more pleasing tongue.

King Archon wove one hand through Aya’s curly hair and slid the other down her back to grab her bum. Aya jumped against his touch, which only made him squeeze her harder. It felt as if his fingers would pierce her skin. With every movement she made, he held her tighter, pulling her body against his until she felt her spine would crack. She wondered if all the royals had been like this, if they all were so forceful and greedy and relentless in their “lovemaking.” If so, she probably could have learned a thing or two from Queen Hildegard to take back to the Rudder.

After a few more moments of this suffocation, Aya pulled King Archon away from her by his hair. He growled but broke the kiss, staring down at her with a mixture of pain and delight in his blue eyes. Aya caught her breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Your Majesty, while I am flattered by your—”

“Then just be flattered, Aya.” He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her up against the wall. Using his hips and legs to pin her into place, the king explored Aya’s body with his hands, sliding them up her sides, across her stomach, over her breasts. His lips kept her head locked back against the wall as they placed little kisses all over her face and deeper kisses down her neck and shoulders. All Aya could do was claw at his back and moan—which served the dual purpose of expressing her agony and furthering his deception. As the king’s head dipped down toward her breasts and his hand began to search through the folds of her dress, Aya finally pushed him away.

“Your Majesty,” Aya gasped. “We must stop this.”

“Aya, my dear, we don’t have to—”

Aya pressed both her palms against his chest. “Yes. We do.”

King Archon’s eyes flared with anger, and he took a few steps back from her, as if he had set her on fire. Aya took a breath and closed the distance between them. She affixed her face with a sad smile and returned her hands to the king’s chest. “Your Majesty, as much as I want to—and trust me, I do—we cannot continue this. If we go any further, we will be in breach of the adultery law, and I will not risk your life for the little satisfaction a night with me will bring you.”

“Aya, I assure you, I will be quite satisfied.” The king’s hands moved back to Aya’s waist.

She let hers run up and down his chest, hoping her unwillingness to meet his eyes made her appear more vulnerable than disgusted. “No, Your Majesty. I cannot sacrifice your kingdom for my own selfish pleasure. Desertera needs your noble leadership. Without you, the kingdom would fall to pieces.”

“Aya, I am the king.” King Archon cupped her cheek. “No one will find out about us, and even if they do, no one will dare speak against us or harm us.”

Aya clutched his shirt in her fists and unleashed the full force of her eyes on him. “You have the safety of being king. I’m a ward. Before that, I was nothing. As your mistress, I will never have security. I will always live in fear of being discovered, of being the downfall of your kingdom. I couldn’t bear it.”

King Archon craned his neck down and kissed Aya’s nose. He rested his forehead against hers. “Aya, you are the most curious, passionate, fiery woman I’ve ever met. I cannot live without you for a moment longer.”

Aya sighed. “And I cannot live with the thought of my actions removing you from this world, Your Majesty.”

“And what if they didn’t have to?”

Aya felt her eyes light up in genuine shock. She didn’t think it would come so easily, but here it was. King Archon straightened, wrapping his arms around Aya. She let herself sink into his embrace, literally hanging on his every word. “What do you mean?”

King Archon took her chin between his right thumb and forefinger. “What if I weren’t married? What if I were entirely unattached and free to be with you as I pleased? Would you have me?”

Aya bit her lips to keep them from breaking into a premature grin. “Have you as what? My lover?”

“For a while, yes.” King Archon tilted his head. “And then as more, as your husband, if you could?”

Aya had not smiled this widely since the day her father had opened his hands to reveal Charlie’s golden frame. If the king hadn’t been holding her, she was sure she would have floated up to the ceiling. It was done. All she had to do was get him to say it, one more time, with Lord Varick and company within earshot.

“Yes. A million times yes.”

King Archon took Aya’s face in her hands and kissed her. She smiled into his kiss, not caring that his beard scratched her neck, his lips were rough, and his hands were cold. She had done it. It was only a matter of time now. She wanted to kiss him—she truly did—for giving her her wildest dream on a silver platter.

The king broke the kiss and wiped Aya’s cheek with his thumb. She hadn’t even realized she was crying, but there it was, the holy salt water slipping down her face. King Archon beamed at her.