Page 50 of Awakened On Her Royal Wedding Night
“What is your end game?” he asked in a rasp.
“Why do you think this is a game?”
“Because I can see you are trying to win,cara mia. What do you want? To break me? You can try.” He opened his belt and fly so her hand easily slipped free when he shifted her backward, causing her to stumble.
He caught her, of course, and pressed her to the narrow, cushioned bench of the reading nook. The high sun splashed down onto her, blinding her, but she didn’t need to see when she could feel her skirt being flicked up to her waist and his knee parting her thighs.
And she thought,Damn you.I will break through to you.
She blinked against the sharp glare. He was a backlit shadow looming over her, but she halted him from kissing her by catching her fingers between the buttons of his shirt. She wrenched it open so a button pecked her cheek as it flew off. Then she splayed her hands across his naked chest and pressed her thumbs to the sharp points of his nipples.
“Oh?” With one hand, he did the same to her top, yanking it so roughly, the silk tore and hung off her side, baring her bra. He shoved aside the lacy cup, exposing her breast.
Did he think that would disconcert her? She reached down and pulled her underwear to the side, further exposing herself. She caressed herself, parting and preparing herself. Beckoning and teasing and daring him to take her.
His fierce gaze raked down her torso and lower. His expression wasn’t so much possessive or aggressive asexalted. As though he had discovered something wondrous. His brow flexed and his mouth tightened with strain. It was taking everything in him to hold on to his control.
That was when she saw him. She saw the beast and the man and the war between them. He didn’t trust that beast, so he kept him caged.
The funny thing was, she did trust that animal. She recognized him as her mate and knew he would never hurt her.
That realization caused a strange mix of tenderness and wanton abandon to overtake her. She opened her bra and brought her knee up, inviting him to hook her foot onto his shoulder.
“I am your wife. Your future queen.Yours.Take me.”
The rush of his breath was the sound a bull might make before it charged. He brushed aside his clothing and braced a hand above her shoulder, pinning her hair as he entered her in one implacable thrust.
Joyous tingles swept up from her loins through her whole body, filling her with gratification as he withdrew and returned, landing even harder and deeper.
“Youaremine.” He hugged her thigh and moved with uncontained power. “Look at me. Say it.”
She could hardly make her eyes open, too overwhelmed by the thrill of pushing him right to the edge.
“You are mine,” she taunted with a wicked smile.
His back flexed as though he’d been lashed and his teeth bared, but he didn’t stop claiming her with those formidable thrusts of his hips. Each impact of his pelvis to hers caused every nerve in her body to sing, but he moved his hand between them, caressing to increase her pleasure even more.
She knew what he was doing, though. He was trying to push her past her limit, trying to make her break first.
Rather than try to best him, she took the advice he had given her the first time he had touched her so intimately. She cupped her own breasts and threw back her head and moaned to the high ceiling as she reveled in the powerful orgasm that soared upward, throwing her into the clouds.
He swore sharply and lost his rhythm. His hips crashed once more into hers and they were both convulsing in the pulses and throbs of a powerful climax.
When he swore again, it was with defeat. His weight sagged onto her and she cradled his head, finally understanding.
He kept that wounded, angry part of himself walled off to preserve his own sanity. To love him was to climb into that cage with that beast and he would never allow it.
She sifted his hair through her fingers, looking to the ceiling with equal parts yearning and despair.
Three days ago, Felipe had gone back to Sentinella with a sense of urgency snapping at his heels. Or rather, with a sense that something was slipping through his grasp.
Through the course of his life, he had carefully constructed his world in a way that was not unlike the meditation maze. Anyone who wished to get close to him had to work through layers of backtracking to even come close. It was the defense mechanism that allowed him to cope with his father’s indifference to him as a human being, with his mother’s cold rejection of him in favor of his brother, and with his brother’s open aggression.
He trusted no one absolutely and cared only a superficial amount for those who were allowed close to him.
Then Claudine had fought her way onto his island. He had carried her himself into his stronghold. Into his bed.
Was it the sex? Was that why he was so infatuated and obsessed? If so, he was no better than an adolescent getting his first taste of passion.
