Princess in the Iron Mask - By Victoria Parker Page 0,59

on her face and his guts twisted, punishing. How could he say that to her? When she already questioned her self-worth? When it was he who was unworthy? And the pain—Dios, he hated seeing pain in her eyes. Pain he had put there.

Thuds hit his temples. He lifted his hands to cover his burning eyes, but not before a swish of satin whispered by. Like a drug addict grabbing for his next fix, he closed his eyes in ecstasy even as he hated himself for giving in to the hungering clawing need—he grabbed her wrist, pulled, needing to feel her against him and despising himself for his desperation.

Struggling, she pulled her arm away. ‘Get off me.’

‘Come to me.’ Dios, the craving was so intense he shook with the power of it.

One quick tug and she was bent over him, her face hovering above his, the soft tumble of her hair brushing his chest and arms, the sweet honeyed scent of purity assailing his mind.

He captured a curl around his finger, mesmerised.

‘Let me go,’ she whispered, her chest rising and falling, her robe loose, gaping, taunting, teasing him with the lush swell of her breasts cupped in black lace.

Pounding sensations and emotions assaulted him. Relief she was close. Disgust at himself for being unable to let her go. Regret—yes, regret because she didn’t deserve to be treated this way. And the ferocious need to replace the pain in her eyes with pleasure. Will you come? Spend my last night with me? The pleasure she’d obviously come for.

‘Come to me, Claudia,’ he said, gliding his free hand up her throat, across the warm skin of her shoulder. Sliding his fingers beneath the satin robe he pushed it down her arm. His sex throbbed for the tightness of her body, but first he needed to banish the anguish from her eyes. ‘Let me hold you, querida.’

The fight left her then, her glorious body softening. His hand fell away as she stood tall and he watched, bewitched, as the black robe fell from her shoulders in a sensual glide to pool on the floor. It was a damn good job he was lying on his back or he’d be on his knees.

Scantily clad in low-cut lace and sheer black satin, slinking over her curves, she was his every fantasy come to life.

Blood roared through his head as the heat surging through his taut frame built to inferno proportions. ‘You’re incredible,’ he said, grasping her satin-sheathed waist and lifting her over him.

Straightening his legs, he coasted the slippery sheath up her bare thighs so she could straddle him, revelling in the slick skin smothering his hips. He plunged his hands into the thick fall of her hair and pulled her mouth down to his. Kissed her hard, desperate to taste, remember.

He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. ‘Forgive me, cariña. It is myself I am angry with.’

‘Let it go, Lucas,’ she whispered, before her lips surrendered.

The sweet taste of forgiveness coated his tongue and for one blissful moment he allowed himself to savour, to indulge in the forbidden tang.

This was what she wanted, he told himself, what she’d come for. And he’d make it spectacular for her. Make her shatter over and over, make her beg him for more until that fierce brain could no longer think. Only feel. Him. Inside her. Surrounding her. A night she would never forget.

Tomorrow everything would come right. He’d meet with Henri and do what was necessary. And Claudia would stand in front of the nation and accept who she was. She would realise the extent of her duty and responsibilities; his promise to return Princess Claudine Verbault would be complete.

But for tonight she was still his.

Tonight she was still Just Claudia.

Her hot naked core nestled against his throbbing erection and she undulated against him with rhythmic serpentine movements that detonated a need that made his vision swim.

‘Careful, cariña...’ he growled.

She filled his mouth with her sweet moans of pleasure. Her hands were a firebrand smoothing over his chest, up the column of his throat, sinking into his hair, massaging the ultra-sensitive skin beneath his ears. It was a confident touch that hummed through his body, and his hips jerked so hard he almost lost it.

In one deft move he broke their lip-lock, whipped the gown up and over her body, tossed it to the floor.

Her voice low and sultry, she began to tell him what she wanted—how hard, how deep, how much she wanted him.