Not Fit for a King

chapter ELEVEN

HANNAH struggled to chew her food but it was nearly impossible with all the butterflies flitting inside her belly. Zale didn’t help matters by giving her that I’m-so-hungry-I-could-eat-you look throughout the meal.

After a half dozen bites she gave up and sipped her wine, drinking one glass, and then another. By the time she’d finished the second glass, she knew she’d drunk too much.

Not because she was drunk. But because she was a little too hot, a little too turned on. Already.

“You’re not eating,” Zale said, noticing her plate was virtually untouched and his was nearly empty. “Didn’t care for the lobster? It’s one of my favorites.”

“I do. It was good.”

“How would you know? You ate nothing.” She took a quick breath, cheeks warm, limbs unusually heavy. Even her pulse felt slow. “I’m happy, though.” “Are you?”

“I’ll never forget it. The view. The flowers. The conversation with you.”

He smiled, amused. “That’s a lot to remember.”

“I know, but it’s worth it. How many women get to do something like this? Lunch with King Zale Patek in one of his parapet towers overlooking the sea? Not many.”

“No. Just you.”

Something in his eyes made her heart jump. He was looking at her as if she mattered.

“We’ll have to do it again one day,” he promised, that faint smile playing at his lips while his amber eyes held hers. “Maybe on our first anniversary.”

“I’d like that,” she whispered, knowing that she wouldn’t be the one here, that she’d never have any of this again but she wouldn’t think about leaving, not now, not when she had the rest of the day, the night and possibly tomorrow.

“There’s something else I’d like, Your Majesty,” she said, voice barely audible.

“And what is that, Your Highness?”

For a moment Hannah couldn’t speak, not when her throat squeezed closed and her heart felt as if it were being torn to pieces. And then she pressed the intense emotions back, refusing to let pain steal a single minute of what was left of the day. “I’d like you to kiss me.”

Heat burned in his eyes. His nostrils flared. Hannah could practically feel his desire.

He left his chair, pulled her from her seat and pressed her back against one of the remaining walls. He leaned close, crowding her, his chest against her breasts, his lean hips teasing hers. He was lean, hard, hot and dropping his head he brushed his lips across hers in a kiss so soft and light that she groaned deep in her throat.

“How’s that?” he murmured, his lips pressing a kiss to the hollow beneath her ear. “Was that good?”

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

His breath was warm on the cool curve of her ear and made her tingle with pleasure. “Not enough,” she murmured, sliding her hands up the broad planes of his chest. His chest was hard, thickly muscled, and she ran her hands over the firm, dense muscle.

“Want more,” she said. “Want you to kiss me properly.” “Like this?” he asked, nibbling at her earlobe.

She felt the coiling of desire in her belly and the dampness between her thighs. Her womb actually ached, her innermost places empty, wanting him. “No. A real kiss. A proper kiss to make the day perfect.”

“You’ve already made it perfect,” he said, catching her face in his hand, and lifting her chin up to look down into her eyes before capturing her mouth with his.

He kissed her slowly, gently, coaxing a response from her, at first warm and sweet, and then warm and sweet became desperate and hot. His lips parted hers and his tongue took her mouth and Hannah wound her arms up around his neck, unable to get close enough.

She needed him, wanted him, wanted everything with him—marriage, and babies, and growing old together—but she wouldn’t have that, she’d only have this.

And she’d take this, all of this, and somehow she’d make it be enough.

She could feel the stubble on his jaw, smell that subtle cologne he wore, taste the wine on his tongue.

“Need you,” she murmured against his mouth, as she slipped her fingers into the short crisp hair at his nape. “Need you so much …”

He broke off the kiss, lifting his head to look down at her. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths and his eyes were cloudy with desire and she reached up to touch his mouth with her fingertips, awed by everything she felt for him.

It was magnificent.

And terrifying.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. “I honestly can’t get enough of you.” “Then don’t.”

Jaw thick, eyes narrowed, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to a broken stone in the shadows of the turret and set her on the edge. Pushing back her skirt he exposed her bare legs and parted her pale thighs to reveal the scrap of thong she wore. “Unbelievably hot,” he growled, lightly running a fingertip over the damp silk thong between her thighs, making the fabric even wetter.

She gasped as his finger traced her swollen lips again and again, making her thighs quiver and her insides clench with need.

“So wet,” he muttered, fascinated by the bit of silk outlining her most intimate places, and stroking it even more slowly to feel her shudder against his hand.

“And so eager for more,” he added, voice rough, raspy, before pulling the scrap of silk away from her body. He swore beneath his breath as he caught sight of her inner lips and her pink, glistening core.

Hannah clutched the sides of the broken stone she sat on, unable to breathe. No man had looked at her so closely, so intently and she tried to close her thighs but Zale was crouching between, his thighs holding hers open.

“What is it about you?” he groaned, lightly sliding his fingers up and down the wet tender flesh. “Why do you do this to me?”

She jumped and cried out as his fingertips brushed against her, the nub already so sensitive she thought she might explode. “It’s not … me …” she panted, fire licking her skin, making her burn, ache. “It’s … you.”

“No. I’ve never needed or wanted a woman the way I want you.”

She gripped the stone even harder as he focused his attention on her, teasing the small nub, using the pad of his thumb to draw small light circles against the slick ridge.

Hannah could feel the pressure building within her, the coil of desire growing hotter, tighter, fiercer. She was close to climaxing but was too aware that Zale watched her face as he touched her, reading her emotions and reactions. It was sexy and yet scary—to be so open in front of a man—physically and emotionally.

There was so much at risk, she thought, struggling to breathe, already too dizzy. If she wasn’t comfortable he’d see just how much she wanted him to take her, own her, make her forever his.

“Come,” he said, “I want to watch you come.”

She shook her head even as her body jerked and jumped, nerve endings stretched to breaking. “Can’t,” she choked, skin hot, body burning, desperate to find release but unable to let go when he’d watch her fall apart. She’d never been wild, never sexually adventurous, her college boyfriend going so far as to complain that she was boring in bed, but with Zale she felt positively daring.

Desperate.

Wanton.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted.

“N-n-noooo. I c-c-c-can’t,” she stuttered, unable to meet his gaze even as her thighs trembled with the building pressure.

“Why not?” he murmured, gaze intent on her flushed face.

“You’re … watching.”

“I like watching. It gives me pleasure.”

She shook her head, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The tension within her was overwhelming. She couldn’t hang on much longer.

“Then close your eyes.”

She shook her head again and with a growl he parted her knees wider, and leaned in to cover her *oris with his mouth. He sucked hard and when she bucked against him, he slid a finger into her, a slow upward thrust that hit a certain spot at the exact moment he suckled the nub.

She screamed, the sound wrenched from her as he shattered her control with an orgasm so intense her hips lifted off the stone.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept sucking and thrusting a finger into her, deeper, steadily, rubbing against that magic invisible spot making her feel hot and tingly all over again. She wanted to tell him it’d never work, wanted to tell him she’d never come again but then he blew on her, a warm breath of air before slowly licking the taut ridge and sucking on the tiny tip.

She exploded a second time, screaming his name.

This time Hannah pushed him back with a shaking hand. “No more.”

Still shuddering, she adjusted the wet thong over her swollen sensitive parts and pulled her skirt down over her legs.

“What did you do to me?” she choked out, her entire body rippling with aftershocks.

“What you do to me every time I look at you.”

Hot salty tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. “I think you broke me,” she whispered, still shuddering and shaking.

He smiled crookedly and kissed her knee through her skirt and then higher on her thigh before standing.

She tipped her head back to look up at him. “What about you?” Her gaze dropped to his trousers and the fabric straining over his thick erection. “Don’t you want anything?”

He looked at her for what felt like forever before extending his hand to her. “Yes. But in my room. Putting you on your hands and knees here won’t be comfortable on the stone.”

She gulped a breath. Hands and knees next? She’d never tried that yet. “Maybe we should.”

Zale laughed softly and they made their way back across the parapet and down the circular staircase in the tower until they reached the ground floor.

They were on the way to the King’s Chambers when one of the footmen stopped Zale and said that Mrs. Sivka needed him to help her with Prince Constantine.

Zale’s jaw tightened, concern etched in his features. “I’ll go directly,” he told the footman, before turning to Hannah. “I’ll find you in your room.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just wait for me.”

She watched Zale walk with the footman toward Prince Constantine’s suite, his stride long, quick. He was worried.

He’s a good brother, she thought, an amazing man.

In her suite, she washed her hands and was still running a brush through her hair when she heard her phone vibrate in the nightstand drawer.

Emmeline!

Hannah raced to retrieve her phone. “Hello?” “Hannah, it’s me.”

Hannah glanced behind her, making sure none of the staff members were nearby able to hear. “Are you okay?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Are you coming?”

“I … don’t … know.”

Stunned, Hannah pressed a hand to her forehead, feeling as if she was close to losing her mind. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I’m in Kadar.”

“Kadar? Sheikh Makin’s country? Why?”

“He thinks I’m you.”

“Tell him you’re not!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’d ruin everything!”

Hannah darted another quick look over her shoulder and added more urgently. “But everything’s already ruined! You have no idea what’s happened—”

“I’m sorry, I am.” Emmeline cut Hannah short, tears thickening her voice. “But everything’s out of my control.”

“Your control. Your life. It’s always about you, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“But you did mean to send me here in your place and you didn’t intend to come right away.” Hannah was so angry she was practically shouting. “You used me. Manipulated me. But how do you think I feel being trapped here, pretending to—” She broke off as the floorboards creaked behind her.

She wasn’t alone. Hannah spun around.

Zale.

She felt the blood drain from her face and for a moment there was just the roar in her ears and then nothing. Silence and nothing.

She snapped the phone closed and it nearly slipped from her fingers.

“How is our good friend Alejandro?” Zale asked, taking a step into the room and closing her bedroom door behind him.

Hannah’s heart thudded hard and she darted a panicked glance at the now closed door. “W-w-who?”

“Emmeline.”

“It wasn’t what you think.”

“Of course you’d make it a game. Nothing is ever straightforward with you.” He walked to the bed and sat down on the edge and then patted the mattress beside him. “So come, sit, we’ll try to make this fun.”

He smiled at her but his expression was cold. Angry. “Shall we play twenty questions? I’ll ask, you answer—”

“Zale, it wasn’t a man. It wasn’t Alejandro. It was one of my girlfriends.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“I know what I heard. You were begging him to come get you and take you home.”

“No! That wasn’t it. I promise. Cross my heart—”

“Don’t.” His voice dropped, his tone pitched low and dangerous. “Don’t do that.”

Hannah crossed the carpet, shaking from head to toe. She thrust her phone out to him. “Call. Call the last number back. See who answers. It’s not a man.”

But he refused to take the phone and it fell between them, hitting the mattress and then sliding onto the floor next to the bed.

She’d never seen him this angry. He seethed with fury, amber eyes glittering like cut stone. After a moment he rose from the bed, circled her where she stood.

“Every time I get comfortable with you, you do this. Every time I commit to you, you play me for a fool.”

“No.” She laced her fingers together, skin prickling with unease. He was dangerous like this. Unpredictable. “I would never do that to you. Never.” And then she heard herself and her vehemence and realized she was playing him for a fool. She had ever since she arrived.

Pretending to be Emmeline.

Pretending to be working out the differences in their relationship.

Pretending to get to know him before they married, when in reality, she wasn’t even the one he’d ever marry …

“You’re not a damsel in distress, Princess.” He spit the words out as if they hurt his mouth. “There’s no lock on any door. No guard keeping you here. If you want to go. Go. As for me, I have things to do and I’m not going to stand here and waste another minute with you.”

“Zale—”

He lifted a hand to silence her. “Enough. Have some respect. Please.” Hand still lifted, he walked out the door.