Royal Sins. Maisey Yates

Subtlety was not his strength. She found that charming in a strange way. More and more as the days passed.

      “Perhaps we can discuss your speech.”

      He gazed down at her, the expression in his eyes unknowable. “If you wish.” He pushed the door open and she followed him in.

      He took a seat on a lush divan that was placed against the back wall of his chamber, assuming that same arrogant posture she’d seen during their first meeting in his throne room. With his black tie, black jacket, crisp white shirt and tailored trousers, he was very close to looking civilized. She didn’t like it. She didn’t want him civilized. Didn’t want him hidden by yet more trappings.

      That need, the need to have him, became a living beast inside her, growled, urged her forward. She began to walk toward him, watched as his dark eyes assessed her, attempted to anticipate her next move. She lowered her hands to her sides, curling her fingers around the silken fabric of her skirt, tugging it upward, exposing her legs, her thighs, as she continued to close the distance between them.

      Then she saw it. A black flame burning in the depths of his eyes, so close to their natural color it would’ve been easy to miss. But it was there, glimmering like an oil slick. He was not untouched. He was not unmoved.

      She approached, still clutching her skirt, placing one knee on the edge of the divan next to his before leaning forward, raising her hand on the wall behind him. He remained motionless, his expression fathomless. But of course it was. That was what he did. In a room full of people, he remained untouched. When applause thundered around him, he reacted like a deaf man.

      He didn’t play the game. No subtle push and pull. And so this time she wouldn’t stop until she had destroyed his defenses, because that was what it would take. She realized that now, with certainty.

      She rested her other knee on the divan, astride him now, sliding forward so that his big body was between her thighs, his heat teasing her, tempting her. He was motionless, as he had been the other times she had touched him. Except for the day he had pressed her palm against his chest. But then he had pushed her away, and she had allowed it. She had stopped.

      But this time, she wasn’t going to stop at touching.

      She lowered her head, angling slightly, pausing just before her mouth met his. Enjoying the moment. The pause before fantasy became reality.

      He smelled like clean skin, the intimacy of the scent hitting her like a punch in the chest. It made her heart beat faster, made her ache. And it stole her last bit of restraint. She closed the remaining bit of distance, fusing her lips to his.

      Heat exploded behind her eyelids, burst in her stomach. She hadn’t expected this. Not this instant firestorm that rocked her down deep. She was supposed to be seducing him, but she felt as if the tables had flipped, and there would be no coming back.

      His lips were firm, hot, and only just now did she realize, immobile.

      She moved her hand, gripped the back of his head and deepened the kiss, tracing the seam of his mouth with her tongue, requesting entry.

      Her only warning of his next actions came in the form of a feral growl that rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her lips before she found herself being moved, Tarek’s arm was like an iron band around her waist as he stood, bringing her with him. He moved his hand, fingers buried deep in her hair, his grip so hard it was painful, pinpricks dotting her scalp as he tugged her head back.

      With two long strides, he had her pressed against the wall, his hold still tight in her hair and around her waist, his body hard and hot against hers. His breathing was ragged, the look in his eyes that of a hunted animal. Desperate. Intense.

      Her hands were trapped between their bodies, her palms against his chest. And she could feel his heart raging out of control.

      He wasn’t unreachable now. Not untouchable or protected. It was terrifying. And it was everything she’d been craving.

      He lowered his head slowly, his nose brushing hers, the movement deliberate, unpracticed. She let her eyes flutter closed, waiting. The moment stretched on forever, a small taste of eternity dropped into the middle of time.

      Then, finally, he ended it.

      When his mouth met hers it was rough, deep and hard. His lips were unforgiving, his tongue boldly pushing between her lips, sliding against hers. This was so far outside her experience. So different from kisses exchanged with careful aristocrats and playboys.

      This was not a seduction. This was what it meant to be taken.

      And this was where any semblance of stability he had carried with him tonight ended. He was not a man now but a beast. His muscular chest pressed tightly against her breasts, the solid length of his arousal resting against her thigh.

      The kiss was bruising, almost painful. The movement of it strange, uneven. It carried with it the desperate quality of a man finding an oasis in the desert, drinking water he’d been deprived of. Absent of skill and social concern. Just the long, frantic satisfaction of a drought that had gone on for too long.

      She was being conquered in a fashion that bordered on violence, and the neglected, hollow places inside her allowed themselves to be filled by it.

      She was at his mercy, trapped between his body and the wall, held fast to his grip. And she loved it. There was no fear of seeming needy now, because he was holding nothing back. Because he needed her, it wasn’t half so terrifying to prove that she needed this, too. To expose her neediness. How could it be when he was demonstrating that he needed her, too?

      She flexed her hips, shifting her position slightly to bring herself in line with his arousal. His grip on her hair tightened when she did, but he didn’t push her away. Her hands were still pressed against his chest, and she used that position to take hold of his tie, to wrench it free of the knot and cast it to the floor. Then she moved on to the buttons on his dress shirt, undoing the top two before sliding her hand beneath the fabric. She’d touched his chest before, and every single time it was a revelation.

      Even better now that he was kissing her while she touched him.

      His teeth grazed her swollen mouth and she retaliated, closing her teeth over his bottom lip, earning another growl that shook his entire being.

      No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever kissed her like this. And she had never realized how much she needed it.

      But she needed more already. Needed that perfectly tailored suit of his on the floor, needed to discard her beautiful gown so that there was nothing at all between them.

      She was about to make a move to do just that when she found herself completely bereft of his presence. He had released his hold on her, moving away from her, pacing back and forth.

      “Tarek...”

      “This is unacceptable,” he said.

      The words hit her like an arrow to her heart. “No. It’s perfectly acceptable. We are going to be married. It is not acceptable for you to be with anyone else,” she said, stating a possessiveness she had never once spoken aloud to Marcus, unsure why she was doing it now. “So if not with me, then who is this acceptable with?” Her voice was trembling now, and she despised it. “And when?”

      “You test my control,” he said. “That is what I find unacceptable.”

      “What do you need control here for?”

      “Control is nonnegotiable.”

      “In this room?” She gestured around them. “With me?” She pressed her hands against her chest.

      “In every room. Always.”

      “I’m going to be your wife. You have never been married before, and I assume you’ve been with other women, so I can’t imagine what the issue is.”

      “You are not my wife yet.” His words were insistent. Maddeningly opaque.

      “But I will be.”

      “And