The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate Hardy

interest. That was how he combatted the years of isolation as a child.

      An isolation that had been an illusion. Locked in a bedroom, in a palace full of people, you could never scream.

      So he had found new ways to learn to breathe.

      “Perhaps you could take me to your mountain someday and show me,” he said.

      “Are you lonely right now?” she asked.

      “No,” he said, and he found that it was the truth.

      “I’m not lonely either.” She pressed her mouth to his, light, tentative. “You can touch me now. I’m ready.”

      He didn’t deserve such easy forgiveness, but he would be damned if he didn’t take it.

      He did not need to be asked again. He claimed her mouth, his touch anything but tentative. She said she was ready. Giving him permission showed that she knew what she wanted. And he would take her at her word, because he had no other choice. He had to have her. Had to have this. To chase the full, aching feeling in his chest that was so different from the emptiness that normally lingered there. Yes, this hurt too, but it was a different pain. One that he relished, one that he embraced.

      He wrapped his arms around her, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest, slick from the water. He held her tight, tilting her backward so that her hair was in the water again, making sure that he had rinsed all the shampoo away.

      He brought her back up, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes locked on his. There was something in them. Something luminous, filled with wonder. And he knew for a fact that he was undeserving of it.

      But he would take it. And he would take her.

      He claimed her lips again, delving deep, his tongue sliding against hers. He’d kissed so many women. More than he could count. More than he cared to count. But this was different. As though it were something entirely new. She was not simply another woman; she was Zara. She was wild, spicy, untamed. Like the land she had come from. He tangled his fingers in her newly cleaned hair, holding her hard against him. He was glad that this time they didn’t have any clothes between them. But even the water was too much.

      He gathered her tightly into him, moving into a standing position, holding her against his chest. He stepped over the edge of the tub, carrying her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. They were both still wet, but he didn’t care. As he had done that first day, he laid her down the middle of the bed, but this time he looked. He looked his fill. From those full breasts, down to her slender waist, the gentle flare of her hips and the dark shadow at the apex of her thighs. Water droplets rolled down her skin and he had a fantasy of licking each and every one of them away.

      Already, he was so hard it was painful. She made him shake. Made him feel as if he were the virgin. His years, his experience, melted away. Until there was no one else but Zara. Nothing else but this.

      She was staring at him, transfixed. “I have never seen a naked man before. Not one... Not one quite like you.”

      “Meaning?”

      “I have occasionally seen men changing. Or getting ready to bathe in the river. I have not seen them aroused.”

      “And what do you think?”

      Color slashed across her high, arrogant cheekbones. Arousal, he thought, not embarrassment. “I very much like it. You. Also it.”

      He couldn’t help laughing at that. “I am glad.”

      He joined her on the bed, placing his hand on her thigh and drawing it down the length of her leg. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of her knee. She shivered beneath his touch and he moved forward. He saw a drop of water on her inner thigh and he lapped it up, moving closer to what he craved. He owed her. She had satisfied him out in the hall. And while he knew she had received some pleasure from their coming together, it wasn’t enough. She had also been given pain, which meant she deserved a double portion of pleasure. He was her only lover, would be her only lover ever. It was up to him to show her how incredible it could be.

      It wasn’t entirely altruistic on his part. He craved her. Needed to know what she tasted like. Needed to satiate the hunger that was building inside him for her. That had been from the first moment he saw her. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted her until that moment out in the hall. Until he had lost all control and had had no choice but to claim her.

      He took hold of her hips, moving forward and sliding his tongue over her slick flesh, teasing the bundle of nerves he knew was the source of her pleasure. She lifted her rear off the bed, pulling away from him, but he held her fast.

      “You can’t do that,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

      “Of course I can.” He ran his tongue over the same path again. “And I intend to do it until you aren’t screaming because you’re lonely. But because you’re screaming my name. You’ll scream until you can’t breathe because of me.”

      He lowered his head again, tasting her, satisfying his craving until she was rocking her hips against his mouth, until she was whimpering. He teased the entrance to her body with his finger, sliding it in slowly, before adding a second, establishing a steady rhythm with his lips, tongue and hands. She was close, so close. So wet and ready. And he was so hard he was about to lose all control. But he was intent on giving her this. On satisfying her in this way before he claimed any pleasure for himself.

      And then, finally, she screamed her release, her internal muscles tightening around his fingers as she did.

      While she was still shivering from the aftershocks, he rose, kissing her lips, positioning himself between her thighs. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, and he prayed to God that she was. Because he had no more restraint left in him.

      “I can’t,” she said, her words breathless.

      “Oh, but you can. Don’t you know? It’s one of the many beautiful, amazing things about being a woman. As many times as I care to pleasure you, you can find release.”

      She shook her head, closing her eyes tight. “I would never survive it.”

      “Of course you would. Because I would never let anything happen to you.”

      Her lashes fluttered, her eyes opening slowly. “Really?”

      His chest tightened, unbearably so, the ache rivaling that of the ache in his body. “Yes,” he said, his pledge. His vow. And with him, she would not be alone. He would do more than simply keep her alive. He would give her the life she craved.

      He swore that only to himself.

      “I believe you.” She looked at him with such trust, and something quite a lot like panic filled him. How long had it been since someone had trusted him? Kairos might love him, might not have disowned him, but he certainly didn’t trust him. Because Andres had not earned his trust. But Zara trusted him. With everything.

      He did not deserve it. But he refused to dwell on it. Not now. Not while he was dying to be inside her. Not while his blood was roaring for release.

      He tested her, finding her slick and ready. He entered her slowly, inch by agonizing inch, drawing it out to be cautious of her, of her inexperience and any potential soreness. And to torment himself. He deserved a bit of torment for all that he was getting in return.

      When he was sheathed to the hilt inside her body, she gasped, her eyes widening. He found he could not look at her face, for fear he would go over the edge before things even began. He didn’t want it to end like that. He wanted to give her more pleasure. Wanted to make sure that he was giving more than he took.

      He established a steady rhythm, driving them both toward release. His blood was roaring through his veins like a beast, intent on devouring him whole if it didn’t find escape. If it didn’t find a way to relieve the intense sensation that was building inside him, so impossibly large he could scarcely breathe around it. Zara arched against him, her breasts pressed into his chest, her hands sliding easily over his back