So incredibly wrong.
So utterly right.
Leaving the ballroom behind with a series of muttered excuses, I don’t stop until I’ve found my way outside into the castle gardens. It’s dark and cold in the late October night — far too chilly for any other party guests to brave the elements. The three guards keeping watch at the doors don’t try to stop me as I run down the winding path, my long train whipping out behind me like a flag. I revel in the silent solitude as I drag uneven breaths into my lungs.
I’m not even sure where I’m headed until I find myself stepping into the glass greenhouse at the center of the courtyard. It’s warmer inside. There’s no light except that of the full moon shining overhead. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, squinting until the shapes of various plants and flowers come into view. There’s something almost haunted about this place, lit only by starlight. Closed off from the rest of the world.
Brushing the worst of the dirt off a slate workman’s table, I prop myself against it and drop my head into my hands. The clatter of my crown falling to the flagstones makes me jump — I’d completely forgotten it was on my head.
I crack open my eyes, already bending to retrieve it… and freeze as I find myself staring not at a dirty greenhouse floor, but into the turbulent blue eyes of the man who’s just crouched down at my feet. I didn’t even hear him follow me in, but there he is — Lord Carter Thorne. On his knees with my tiara clutched gently in his big hands, looking up at me like I’m the source of all his pain and all his passion.
Shadows play over his features as I reach out, trembling like a leaf, and wrap my fingers around the tiara. He doesn’t relinquish his hold — even when I tug lightly. Instead, he rises, finding his feet in one smooth motion, stepping forward into my space… And then, the crown is clattering back to the stones at our feet, utterly forgotten, because without another thought or breath or beat of hesitation, Carter reaches out, hauls me into his chest, and crushes his mouth to mine.
Passion explodes violently, a tsunami that washes in without warning and submerges us completely. Our hands claw and tear, desperate to get closer after so much time suffering in separate agony. My fingers dig into his back, hard enough to bruise. His lips claim mine, savage enough to leave them swollen.
There is no room for reasonable questions or sound arguments. Not anymore. We have flown past the point of no return, to a place were the only thing that matters is this.
Us.
Now.
His kiss is a broken promise on borrowed time. His touch is faulty fuse struck with the hottest match. We possess all the potential in the world without an ounce of fulfillment. We are a lost cause, doomed before our inception. And still, I cannot stop myself from shoving the tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, to the dirty ground. Just as he can’t prevent his hands from lifting me up onto the slate table.
My legs part beneath the thick layers of tulle as he bunches it by my waist, so he can step closer.
Closer.
Never close enough.
My need for him is so strong, I can hardly see straight as my shaking hands slide down his chest to trace the throbbing outline of his cock through the thin fabric. The ache between my thighs magnifies as I feel his shaft swell beneath my touch.God… he’s so huge, sohard, it’s difficult to believe I’m the one who’s sparking this reaction within him.
He growls my name as his hands clutch me harder, lips dropping to suck the sensitive skin of my neck. The nip of teeth against my jugular vein, where my pulse races double speed, has my back arching like a bowstring.
Fingers grasping blindly, I fumble with the button of his pants, then struggle to slide his zipper down. I need to free him, to feel him heavy within the grip of my hands, no barriers left between us. I need to watch him come undone beneath my touch, just as he’s undoing me. I need him inside me, under my skin, embedded so deep he’ll never fully leave me.
His hands tangle in my hair as he kisses me again, ruining my perfect up-do in an instant. I don’t give a shit. Our lips never part, even as I pull him into my hand and begin to pump his length, rhythmic strokes that draw deep groans of pleasure from the back of his throat.
With a sudden growl, he tears his lips from mine and shoves me back, flat against the table. Before I can blink, he’s out of my reach, kneeling on the ground between my legs. His dark head disappears beneath my voluminous skirts, his hands roughly shove my knees apart. I cry out when his fingers delve into the flimsy fabric of my underwear and tear it clear off my body, the intricate stitches no match for his impatience.
I don’t even have time to be shocked by his savage action. My focus narrows to the broad fingers stroking my inner thighs as he hitches my legs over his shoulders. When he leans in, his mouth sucking on my clit like he’s been starving for me, I swear my whole damn world ceases to exist. There’s nothing left but this — his lips feasting on me, my back arching up off the table. Pleasure spikes in a dizzying bolt, my thighs clenching around him as he fucks me slowly with his tongue.
The orgasm slams into me without warning, so fast I’m unprepared for it. I cry out as I come, loudly enough to draw unwanted attention. Carter swiftly rises to cover my mouth with his, swallowing my cries as his hands finish the job his lips began. His fingers slide into my soaked core, first one finger, then two, working with expert precision as waves of pleasure crash through me, over and over, a never-ending tide. I’m moaning, clutching wildly at him as I taste myself on his tongue, desperate for more even as my whole body trembles with aftershocks.
Our eyes meet in the darkness and I see my own lust reflected back at me — so strong, it’s almost painful. I grab his shirt and pull him fully down on top of me, his heavy weight settling between my thighs. Tulle bunches around my waist in a thick layer, but I hardly notice as my legs wind around his back.
“Emilia,” he groans, face suddenly tortured. “Are you sure?”
“I’m on the pill,” I whisper, kissing him again. Sliding my hands into his hair. Reveling in the delicious weight of his hard, hot body, pressing me down against the cool slate.
“You know that’s not what I mean. Once we do this…”
His expression is composed as he hesitates, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest gives him away, as does the tension in his shoulders when his hands plant themselves on either side of my face. I feel the hard head of his shaft brush the slickness between my thighs, and that merest hint of him is nearly enough to trigger another orgasm.
“Carter…” I reach down between us, encircle my hand around his pulsing length, and maneuver him until he’s poised perfectly at my entrance. “I’m sure.”
Groaning with need, he slams himself home without another instant of doubt, entering me in a brutal thrust that jerks my whole body several inches up the table. I’m unable to tame the screams of pleasure that fly from my throat as he moves inside me, filling me so fully, I think my body might break in two. He fucks me like a man possessed, each stroke deeper than the last.
“Emilia.”