The Most Powerful Of Kings - Jackie Ashenden Page 0,45

and it was still early days, but that didn’t matter. There was Ione to consider, and what Anna had said to him at the celebration, about how Ione wasn’t happy, had stuck in his head.

Happiness was a feeling he didn’t need, but, no matter his father’s training, he found he couldn’t bear the thought that his daughter didn’t need it either. He knew what the expectations were of an heir and how heavily they had sat on his shoulders. How sometimes he’d wanted his parents to be normal parents, who put him first and not the crown. Yet they never had. Even in those last moments, his mother had been acting to protect her husband, not him.

He could do that for Ione, though. He could give her someone who would put her first. Someone loving and loyal, someone who could perhaps provide him with some physical relief too. A wife, in other words. He hadn’t planned on marrying again, not wanting to put a potential partner through the misery Sophia had endured. But perhaps it would be different this time with Anna. He would set it out plainly for her, like a job. And she could also choose to view it that way if that was preferable to her.

She wasn’t from an aristocratic family, but his kingship was secure. It didn’t matter who he married, and Anna was the logical choice, even if her pregnancy didn’t go ahead.

After all, it wasn’t as if she loved him.

You thought that about Sophia. And Anna is passionate; she feels things deeply. You can’t possibly expect her to remain unengaged.

But he refused that thought, just as he’d refused it as she’d flung her accusation about the lack of attention he gave the one child he already had. She’d stood straight and tall, blazing, not like a little nun, but like steel tempered in fire, becoming stronger and sharper.

He hadn’t been able to stop himself as she’d spoken his name, the blaze in her eyes changing into passion as he felt his own desire rise. He didn’t want to stop though. He’d been dreaming of her, of her mouth under his, of the sweet heat between her thighs and the soft curves of her breasts, for weeks, and he was hungry. So very, very hungry. And it was a sharp, raw thing that clawed at his insides with a deep, insistent ache.

He shouldn’t give in to the intensity of his need and he knew it. He knew, too, that his detachment was already compromised from their previous encounter.

But he hadn’t been able to resist.

She’d awoken the lion and this lion was ravenous.

His grip tightened on her wrists and, though she made an attempt to pull away, he didn’t let her, pushing her wrists behind her back and holding them there. She groaned as her mouth opened beneath his and he tasted her, the hot sweetness of her like summer wine.

And just like that night in his office, there was no shyness in her and she held nothing back, her kiss that of a starving woman and he a feast brought before her.

She made an insistent, demanding sound, pushing herself against him, her soft curves pressed to his body, and his hunger sharpened further, gaining a possessive edge which was choking in its intensity.

He should have resisted that too, but he didn’t. Because as her teeth sank into his lower lip, the lion escaped its cage entirely.

Adonis growled, gripping her wrists hard in one hand and jerking down the bodice of her gown with the other, baring her to the waist. Then he cupped one breast, squeezing gently, testing the weight of it. Her skin was silky and warm in his palm, and she gasped against his mouth, arching into him.

He kissed her harder, deeper, teasing her hard nipple with his thumb, then pinching it lightly. She shuddered, a low moan escaping her. Her soft curves were crushed against him, the heat of her skin burning through the black wool of his tuxedo, and suddenly the clothing separating them was too much.

He wanted her naked, wanted skin on skin with nothing between them.

She is yours now.

Yes, she was.

He let go of her straining wrists, found her zip and tugged it down. Then he peeled the gown away from her, leaving her naked but for her plain white knickers.

‘Adonis,’ she gasped, reaching for him, but he pushed her down onto the couch.

‘Stay there,’ he ordered harshly as she tried to get up, shrugging off his jacket and