As he stroked her waves of pleasure began to roll over her. Unable to resist, she lifted her hips and pressed herself harder against him. Her breathing shallowed. Sped up. A ball of tension swelled and tightened inside her. Her heart thundered.
She felt Matt reach over, faintly heard the rustle of foil and then he was on top of her, pushing her knees even farther apart and driving into her.
Laura groaned in desperation. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him farther inside her, and her hands tangled in his hair.
With every thrust of his body, every scorching kiss, he pushed her higher. Mindless with need, Laura tilted her hips to take him deeper. She could feel the tension in him too, the focus, as he pounded harder and faster into her.
And then just when she thought she couldn’t bear the clawing desperation any longer, he pulled out of her and drove into her one last time, deeper than he had ever before.
Laura shattered. A tidal wave of pure pleasure crashed over her as her orgasm hit and rippled out along every single one of her nerve endings. A second later Matt let out a rough groan and collapsed on top of her.
As she floated back down to earth she became aware of his heart thundering against hers, his breath harsh and fast against her neck, and something inside her chest squeezed.
But before she could work out what it was Matt was propping himself up on his elbows to take his weight and lowering his head to give her a long slow devastating kiss that wiped her mind.
‘Like I said,’ he murmured, gazing down at her as he gave her a faint smile, ‘unbelievable.’
Despite that thing in her chest squeezing even tighter, Laura couldn’t help a satisfied smile creeping across her face. Matt gently withdrew from her and rolled onto his back to deal with the condom, then pulled her on top of him and tugged the sheet up over them.
‘You know, I’ve never slept with a king before,’ she said, her gaze roaming over the lines of his face.
‘I should hope not,’ said Matt dryly. ‘Most of them are over sixty.’
He trailed his hands over her back and she could feel her skin tingle. She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her wrists. ‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-three.’
‘Pretty young to become king.’
‘I guess.’
‘How did it all come about?’
He frowned and the fingers creating havoc on her back stilled. ‘Do we have to discuss this now?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because there are lots of other things we could be doing.’
That was true, she thought, feeling him stirring against her abdomen and beginning to slide beneath the surface of the desire that was sweeping through her. It would be so easy to just give in. Especially with the way Matt’s hands had moved lower and were now stroking her bottom and sending tingles all the way round to her core.
But she wanted to know about him. Had done for weeks, and to absolutely no avail. Matt was as chatty as a clam. Torquemada himself would have trouble getting Matt to open up, and God knew she was no Torquemada. But now, with him trapped beneath her, all relaxed and amenable and perhaps prepared to lower his guard a fraction, maybe she did have a chance. And who knew, it might be her only opportunity.
Ruthlessly quashing the desire whipping through her, Laura called into service a hitherto dormant will of steel and reached behind her to remove his hands from her bottom. ‘Not right now,’ she said, placing them either side of his head and keeping them there with hers. ‘You know pretty much everything there is to know about me, yet I know virtually nothing about you.’
Matt frowned. That wasn’t true, was it? She knew… Hmm. So maybe it was, but that was understandable. He was reserved. And why wouldn’t he be, what with journalists constantly hounding him for his life story?
‘So read the papers,’ he said.
‘But I have such a reliable source right here,’ she said, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes and giving him a seductive smile.
If he had any sense whatsoever he’d be levering himself up and heading back to his own room, because Matt didn’t do post-coital conversation. Or any conversation of a personal nature, for that matter.
However his body wanted more of her. Much more. He wanted to watch her shatter in his arms again. Wanted to shatter in her arms.
Hmm. Maybe he could dispense with a few facts and then turn his talents to persuading her to find another use for her mouth.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘My favourite colour is blue.’ Cornflower blue, he thought, looking into her eyes and momentarily losing his train of thought. ‘My favourite food is chilli and I don’t have time for hobbies. Anything else?’