“Elle, I can’t hold off much—”
“Come inside me, Dom,” she demanded. “I want to feel you spill into me.”
It only took one more stroke for him to bury himself balls deep in her warmth before he did, his orgasm crashing through him like a tsunami, washing away everything but Elle.
Rolling to the side before he collapsed on top of her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Neither of them said anything as they snuggled close. No doubt she was trying to make sense of what had just happened as much as he had. Nothing made sense anymore except for Elle, and that scared him more than any threat from the Fjende possibly could.
Chapter Twelve
Three hours later according to the digital clock, Elle stretched out in the empty bed and wished she could make time stop. Dom’s phone had rung a few minutes ago, and he’d apologized before taking the call in the library on the other side of that crazy Scooby-Doo hidden door. No doubt more business—that she’d have to pry out of him—about how to get her into the Kronig without tipping off the Fjende. The man was damned frustrating with how under wraps he kept every bit of planning.
Still naked as she’d been when she’d had the best sex of her life a few hours ago—so good the glow of it clung to her skin—she got out of bed as quietly as possible and crept across the bedroom to the hidden door. It wasn’t closed all the way, letting through the conversation the other side. Straining to hear, she leaned close to the opening.
“She needs to know about you, sir.” Dom’s voice carried through the midafternoon quiet blanketing the chalet.
Since she was the only woman she’d seen at the chalet, Elle knew Dom had to be talking about her. She nudged the door open a few inches, thankful the well-oiled hinges didn’t make a sound.
“I understand your concerns, but I respectfully submit that your reasoning is faulty. She’s not the girl you knew anymore. She’s a strong, smart, practically fearless woman who will lead Elskov because she’s chosen to, not because of your cat and mouse games.”
Cat and mouse games? What the hell?
“King Magnuz, she is your daughter, and she deserves to know you’re alive.”
Whatever came after was drowned out in the white noise filling her head. Her father was alive. Her father. Was. Alive. And Dom knew. Judging by the familiarity with which he’d spoken with her father, he’d known the whole time. He’d said he wasn’t the Resistance’s leader, so that left one man who could be. Her father.
“I realize that, Your Highness, but it doesn’t change the facts,” Dom said, his tone icy. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”
“Too late.” She choked out the declaration through a throat tight with emotion. “She already knows.”
Dom whipped around, a red flush creeping across his face. Guilt? Remorse? Embarrassment? It didn’t matter. The kidnapping, the watching her from afar—she could understand that coming from a man who’d never known her and who was focused solely on the goal of taking back Elskov. But her own father? No. Strangely, Dom’s betrayal about her father being alive hurt just as much, if not more.
“Sir, she’s here. Would you like to—” His mouth formed a straight line and he disconnected the call. “Must have been cut off.”
“Really?” She snorted, emptiness settling in her belly, freezing all the fiery anger that no doubt would come later. “Sounded to me like he hung up on you.”
He took a step toward her, dressed only in the slacks he’d worn earlier and the desperate look of a man who’d fucked up but was going to give fixing things the old college try. “Elle—”
She held up her hand, warding him off. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does.” Dom closed the distance between them, stopping only when her palm pressed against his chest.
Touching him burned her, defrosted some of the coldness keeping her sane, but she fought against it. She’d been here before, on her own.
“Wrong,” she said, surprised at the hollow sound of her voice. “Does it change what I have to do next?”
“No.” He put his hand over hers, holding it tight enough that she could feel the unsteady thump-thump-thumpity-thump of his heartbeat.
“Because he’s not coming back to Elskov, is he?” She slid her hand free, doing her best to ignore her body’s protest at the removal of his heat.
“No.”
And there it was. It always came back to that. The goal for him, for her father, for the Resistance, had always been to get her back on the throne whether she wanted to be there or not. But her father had loved Elskov. She’d thought he’d given his life for it. It didn’t make sense for him to stay away now when they were so close to taking back the country from the Fjende…unless…her gut clenched.
“What’s wrong with him?”
The vein in Dom’s temple throbbed, and his jaw went rigid.
“Dammit, tell me!” Her shout exploded in the small space between them.