Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(49)

He took what he needed, pounding into her ruthlessly and she didn’t care because she wanted it, too. Needed it.

Needed him.

Her hips rose to meet him and she cried out as he drove harder into her, gripping her hips with digging fingers as if she were a lifeline, the only thing that kept him grounded to earth.

Her heart swelled even as she reminded herself that this wasn’t love. Only lust.

Her body splintered from the inside out. He swallowed her ecstatic cry as he drove deep inside her a final time and stilled. She dug her nails deep into his smooth shoulders. His arms quivered, braced on either side of her.

A sad smile curved her mouth. She would always have this.

Long after they each wed someone else. Long after he sailed for home. This memory, this night, would hold her through the years.

It would be enough. She would make it so.

This was more than lust.

Sev knew it the instant he felt her shudder beneath him, felt her tremble and arch sinuously under him in the throes of her climax.

His own climax followed fast and fierce. He reveled in the sensation of his seed spilling inside her. Even as he knew it was insanity, that he should pull free from her body and spill himself upon the linens. Nothing could tear him from her delectable body, risk or no risk.

Just as he realized this, he accepted the fact that she was not something he could have just once.

For the first time in years, he wanted something for himself. He wanted Grier.





Chapter Eighteen

“What’s it like? Maldania?” Grier asked much later. Sated as a cat on a sunny day, she curled up on Sev’s warm body. Her fingers stroked softly against the smooth expanse of his chest. “Do you miss it?”

“Yes.”

She smiled, enjoyed the way his voice rumbled up through his chest and vibrated against her cheek where it rested. “I miss Wales,” she announced, her voice whisper-soft. “It’s so green there it almost hurts your eyes. And the wind is different. The air smells fresh and new.” She released a breathy laugh. “If that makes any sense.”

“It does. Maldania is like that. Green hills and mountains. Forests so deep you can walk through them and believe you’re the last person on earth.”

“I know that feeling.”

His hand brushed through her hair, pulling back when catching in the snarls, and then starting again.

“My brother taught me to fish and hunt in those forests.”

“Tell me about your brother.”

His chest lifted on an inhalation beneath her. “He was to be king. Not me. I was simply the spare. I should have been the one killed. No one would have missed me.”

Her heart clenched at his words. She would have missed him. And the notion terrified her. She could have gone through life never knowing Sev. Never knowing this. Never having him. It was torment to consider. “I don’t believe that. It’s not true. You would have been missed—”

“You’re sweet.” He kissed her forehead. “But my brother was essential. I was not. He was born to the position, brought up always knowing who and what he was. I only became necessary after his death.”

“He was killed during the war?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure everyone is just happy and relieved that they have you.”

“Oh yes.” His chest tightened beneath her cheek. “To be sure. That’s what they tell me—every chance they get.”

“They?”

“My grandfather, the consul, people I come across in the streets. They’re all so relieved. So very relieved that they have their crown prince.”

Crown prince. Not Sevastian.

And then Grier understood. In that moment, it all became glaringly clear. She understood his austerity. His lack of levity. His life was not his own. He did not have a right to such emotions. He belonged to Maldania.

She suddenly felt hollow inside with the knowledge that he could never be hers . . . and yes, a secret part of her had begun to long for that. He could belong to no woman because he belonged to Maldania.

She struggled to find something to say. Something heartening. “You have purpose. That must count for something. You can do so many good things for so many people.” Even as she said this, she felt only numb inside. He’d have his purpose in life. And she would never have him.

“I know.” His voice rang grim, but no less determined. “That’s why I’m here.”

“England, you mean?” Not with her, of course. It would be just silly of her to think he meant with her.

“For my country to even begin recovering I must marry.”

An awkward hush fell between them. Everything changed. Their tender intimacy shattered.

Her fingers stilled on his chest. If marriage to a wealthy, respectable woman was his agenda, then what was he doing here with her? Wasting time.

She was sure his thoughts echoed her own. Painful but true. She might have the fortune he needed, but she wasn’t the queen he sought. She began to pull away.

In one swift move, he flipped her on her back. She gasped as he slid his very muscled thighs between hers.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice an eager tremor on the air.

His face stared down at her. Hard. Determined. “I think that would be obvious.” The tip of him nudged at her opening. “You were trying to leave.”