‘It feels...amazing.’
‘I know it does.’
What was that sudden edge to his voice as he drove even deeper? Zabrina wasn’t sure but right then she didn’t particularly care, because it seemed that instinct was guiding her movements again. Why else did her thighs lock with familiar ease around his back, and why else did she move her pelvis to meet each hard thrust? The low moans of pleasure he gave thrilled her immeasurably. Did that mean he liked the way she was responding to him? She hoped so because she liked everything he was doing to her.
Everything.
She liked the way his teeth teased her nipples into diamond points. The way he smoothed his fingers over her arching flesh, as if discovering every centimetre of her body through touch alone. Each thrust he made took her deeper, and then deeper still, into a new and intoxicating world which was becoming familiar to her. In her befuddled mind she saw the twitch of a colourless curtain, behind which was a glimpse of that rainbow place again. And suddenly it became real, and all those incredible sensations were swamping her in tantalising waves.
It couldn’t be happening, Zabrina thought dimly. Not...not again.
But it could, and it was.
Oh, it was.
As her body began to clench around him, he drove his mouth down on hers—as if recognising that kissing was the only way of stemming the euphoric cry which was bubbling up inside her. Zabrina yelped softly into his mouth as his movements became more urgent—until at last he jerked inside her, his head tipping back as he shuddered out his own moment of fulfilment.
It felt like an intensely private moment but she was so dazed and spellbound that she risked a glance at his face.
He looked enraptured. There was no other word for it. As if he’d just discovered the most delicious thing imaginable. And for a few silent seconds, Zabrina allowed herself the pointless luxury of fantasy.
What if he’d realised—like her—that this type of connection was rare? So rare that she would be prepared to give up her destiny for it. For him. She could tell him that she’d meant what she’d said about his boss—that she had no desire to marry him, nor even any desire for him. She could renounce her royal title and they could run away together. There would be a terrible scandal, yes, but people would get over it and the world would move on. He was strong and resourceful. He could build them a cottage in the woods and she would bear his children. She would cook meals and grow vegetables and he would come home every night and take her into his arms, and... She frowned. It was true that she’d never cooked anything in her life, but she would soon learn!
‘Constantin,’ she said softly, and as she said his name an astonishing transformation seemed to come over him.
The first thing he did was to withdraw from her, as if he couldn’t wait to put some distance between them. But not before she’d detected the way he had begun to harden inside her once more...and she sensed he was having to fight the urge not to thrust inside her again. She wished he would. She wanted to ask him if something was wrong but her inexperience warned her to wait a little. Because he might be awash with feelings of guilt and regret at what they’d just done—feelings she knew she should share, but somehow she just couldn’t. How on earth could she possibly feel guilty or regretful about something which felt as if it had been written in the stars?
His back to her now, he peeled off the condom and dropped it on top of his discarded trousers, as if this was something he had done a million times before. He probably had, Zabrina reasoned, though she needed to understand that his life before he’d met her was none of her business and she must not question him about it. Not when they had more than enough questions of their own they needed to address. In fact, he was probably wondering where the hell they went from here, so surely it was up to her to put his mind at rest and reassure him that she wasn’t intending to pull rank.
‘Constantin?’ she repeated softly.
He turned to face her then and Zabrina almost wished he hadn’t, because...
Surely there had to have been some kind of mistake? Surely someone couldn’t have travelled from bliss to contempt so quickly. But eyes which had been soft and smoky with lust now resembled chips of grey ice and his face looked as if he had pulled on a dark mask of anger. Was he anticipating the repercussions of what they had done?
She frowned. ‘Is...is something wrong?’
‘What do you think?’ he snapped, his voice as cold as his eyes.
She swallowed. ‘I know we shouldn’t have—’
Roman shook his head, unable to contain his anger for a second longer. Anger at the naked princess who was still tempting him unbearably, yes, but far more potent was the anger he was directing at
himself. How could he have lost control like that? How could he? ‘Damned right, we shouldn’t,’ he snarled.
She was sitting up in bed and smoothing down her hair, shiny strands of which were tumbling from its constricting ponytail and falling tantalisingly over her bare breasts.
‘Look, I don’t have any experience but I do know that these things happen,’ she whispered.
Her wide-eyed expression was completely at odds with the foxy euphoria he’d witnessed when she’d been orgasming underneath him and now Roman felt another spear of anger directed at the erection which was stirring at his groin. ‘Oh, please. Don’t insult my intelligence by playing the wounded innocent, when nothing could be further from the truth!’
She blinked at him in confusion and it almost looked real. She was a good actress, he’d say that for her.
‘What are you talking about, Constantin?’
The way she spoke his name made another wave of anger wash over him. ‘What do you think I’m talking about?’ Furiously, he rose from the bed and grabbed at his clothes, rapidly pulling on his trousers before heading towards the bedroom at the far end of the compartment. From there, he tugged a silken coverlet from the bed and walked back into the salon before tossing it to her. ‘Cover yourself up,’ he said, striding over to the door and turning the key in the lock.
Thankfully, she did as he asked, concealing her delicious body from his hungry eyes with the aid of the bedspread. That was one less distraction at least, Roman thought grimly as a pert pink nipple was covered by a ripple of silk, though he couldn’t deny his faint sense of deprivation. His mind was buzzing but all he could see was the fearful gaze she was directing at the door before looking back at him, as if she had only just realised where they were and what they had been doing.