God, the way her hands felt as they brushed across his face. The way her expression softened with desire, the way her lower lip trembled. And then…then the way she tasted: sherry from supper, mint…her. She tasted like her and he wanted to memorize every different hint of that, from her lips to her skin to places he shouldn’t even think about.
But he couldn’t stop now. Fantasies he had always kept at bay save for passionate dreams bombarded him now. Forcing him to imagine what it would have been like to finally take what he’d always wanted. To have her the way he so longed to have her. To show her his heart, give it to her fully, by pleasing her body.
His cock throbbed, and he cursed as he flopped back on the bed and stared at the ceiling above him. He had to stop this. It was a mistake and she would realize that soon enough. He couldn’t moon over it, moon over her. He couldn’t look at her and think about what sound she would make when she came against his fingers or his tongue or his cock.
“Jesus,” he grunted, and swiftly unfastened the fall front of his trousers. There was only one way to ease this, it seemed. Indulging it just this once, then never ever again.
He caught his hard cock in hand, stroking over the flesh once, twice. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut and his imagination ran wild. To images of tonight, when he’d finally let his lips touch Giabella’s. To the sound she’d made as she lifted into him with desperation and pure desire.
And then he went further. Imagining how easy it would have been to back her into the soft sea grass. To lower her into the softness. To hitch up her skirt and slide his fingers along her inner thigh, past the slit in her drawers, into the dewy heat of her sex.
He spit on his hand and continued to stroke, lifting into the pleasure as he imagined gently fingering her, watching her face as she writhed beneath him, feeling her pulse around him as she came and then burying himself in her while she was still fluttering with release. Taking her, plunging into her over and over while he kissed her and she moaned into his mouth.
Pleasure ripped through him at that image and he pumped harder, twisting against the bed before he came in an eruption of long-denied pleasure that seemed to last forever and echo through every nerve ending in his body.
When it was over, he opened his eyes, digging for a handkerchief to clean himself up. He shook his head. Now this was done. He could control himself again.
He had to. Because what had happened on the beach wasn’t something that could happen again. He’d resigned himself to that fact a very long time ago and he couldn’t trick himself into thinking there was any other future for him now.
CHAPTER 5
As the sound of cheering crowds grew louder around her, Giabella pulled back the curtain on the carriage and waved to her people gathered outside. Her arrival in Southern Athawick was to fanfare, some natural and some she had to assume was created by staff. That was the way of these sorts of public events.
The gate to the official residence where she was staying opened and the crowd surged, waving and shouting her name in the most supportive way.
She settled back and stared across at the empty seat opposite her. Dash had, yet again, not ridden with her during the journey this day. In fact, she had hardly seen him since their passionate kiss the night before.
The one that had been haunting her ever since. Perhaps it didn’t do the same for him. Oh, she’d felt the power of his kiss. She wasn’t going to pretend she hadn’t. But that didn’t mean that he liked how he felt. It didn’t mean he wanted to want her.
And perhaps he just had more control over himself than she did.
The carriage stopped and the door opened a moment later. She caught her breath as Dash, himself, leaned in, offering his hand as he had done an infinite number of times. She took it, trying not to suck in her breath when they touched, and came out onto the drive.
“The counts are here,” he said softly, taking up the position he’d always held.
She nodded once and they fell into their usual roles. He gently reminded her of facts about those they met when she needed them, allowing her to greet those around her in a far more personal way than she might have done on her own. She felt the warmth of him just at her side with every step. The weight of what was between them.
At last she reached the final person in the line of those aristocrats here to greet her. Count Hadley, who presided over the eastern part of the island. She normally had no strong feelings one way or another about these sorts of men. She had seen them come and go many times over the years and the royal family involved themselves as little as possible in judgment when it came to those in power.
But Hadley was the exception. Giabella glanced up and down the man’s lean, tall frame and she despised him. After all, he had linked himself to Grantham’s former courtier, Blairford. A man who had manipulated the unrest in the country, physically threatened several members of the family and had shot Dash in the arm not so long ago.
Her heart throbbed at the thought and it took all her many years of training to keep a restrained expression. “Count Hadley, how lovely to see you,” she said, and knew her tone was icy cold.
Hadley seemed not to notice. He inclined his head slightly…very slightly. “Your Majesty. At least for a while longer, eh?”
“Quite,” she said.
“I hope I’ll have a chance to speak to you,” he said. “I have some thoughts and concerns about—”
She held up a hand. “At the reception, Hadley, please.”
“But—” Hadley protested.
She moved on and Dash stepped between them. “I shall ensure you have a moment to speak to the queen when it is more convenient to her,” he said, but she heard the strain in his voice as much as it had been in hers.
Hadley harrumphed but made no further effort to speak to her. She moved to the top of the stairs leading into the house and stopped there. “I look forward to connecting with you all at length at the reception in an hour’s time. Until then, make yourselves comfortable.”
There were bows and murmurs of approval, but Giabella hardly heard them as she entered the house. She handed over her gloves to the waiting butler. “Ah, Livingston, so wonderful to see you again.”
“And you, Your Majesty,” the older servant said. “The staff is eager to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”
She nodded and smiled warmly at the man before she made her way toward the stairs. Dash was at her side immediately.
“I despise that Hadley must be included after what he did,” she said under her breath.
“I understand,” Dash said softly. “I feel the same way. But there was no evidence linking the man to Blairford’s actual plans for a coup. He would have been…at least in theory…a pawn, not someone who was aware.”
“I can well believe that,” she muttered as they reached the top of the stairs and moved toward her chamber at the end of the hall. “The man has always been a pompous fool.”
She opened the door and began to step in, but was surprised when Dash stayed put. She wrinkled her brow. “You aren’t…you aren’t coming in to discuss the night further before I ready myself?”
He cleared his throat and his gaze moved from hers. “I think it might be wise, Your Majesty, if I did not.”