Unable to contain the emotions building in his chest, he crushed her mouth against his. He let all his rage pour into her as he moved his lips against hers. And she kissed him back, her lips smacking against his, fanning the flames licking between them.
He couldn’t stand it. The agony. He tore his mouth from hers, his breathing ragged. He couldn’t do anything but focus on his next intake of air.
Pushing her away from him, he panted as hard as she did.
His need for revenge was unwarranted.
His insides clenched. All along he should have been giving his attention to his duty.
He should apologise. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t. What would he be apologising for? For everything he was—had been—and for what everyone kept telling him wasn’t enough? For believing she’d thought the same?
Akeem opened his eyes.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside his elevator in the sky.
‘This elevator,’ he said, releasing her hand and turning to face her. ‘Is revolutionary in the aircraft industry. One of the first of its kind. My father was many things, but he always liked to be among the first. The first to win, the first to lose. But most of all he put himself first. Before his wife, his mistresses, his son and his kingdom.’
He turned away from her and pressed a button. Then he turned to face the doors, watching them close and seal him inside the elevator with the woman beside him, her reflection mirrored in the reflective doors.
His future Queen.
‘I am not my father. I will marry because my duty to my country will demand it. But I will not succumb to the madness of passion again. My people will always come first,’ he said.
Because he needed the reminder of who he was now, and so did she.
‘You will always come second after we leave this plane.’