The King's Captive Virgin. Natalie Anderson

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      She’d never wanted a man close like this. Holding her. Caressing her whole body with just a breath. And yet deep within there was a softening, even as another tension coiled tightly. For once she wasn’t cold—not frigid with distaste and stiffly rejecting the contact. No, right now she was burning with a fever such as she’d never known. And the only way to ease it even slightly was to rub against the press of his body. He was both the source and the cure for this contagion. His arms were tight bands about her—the welcome bars of a prison she’d never have believed she’d ever wish for.

      His hand cupped the side of her face, holding her so she couldn’t turn her gaze from his. Powerful, searching, his eyes held not just hostility now, but arousal too. Anger laced with lust. She was transfixed, but not frozen. She’d gone from feeling nothing to feeling everything. To yearning for something she’d never before wanted or even understood.

      ‘Me neither,’ he gritted. ‘I don’t want to stand here. I don’t want to hold you. I don’t want to want you.’

      And all the while his gaze saw right through her. All the while his head lowered, bringing his mouth nearer to hers.

      ‘You’re a liar,’ she whispered shakily.

      ‘So are you.’

      She could have said no again. She could have turned her head away. But she did neither of those things. If anything she tilted her chin at him, meeting him in the moment he put his mouth to hers.

      For a split-second old instincts surfaced and she stiffened, her body screaming its rejection. But the pressure of his mouth changed immediately. He softened, eased, and ultimately coaxed until her eyes closed. In the velvety blackness it was as if she’d been drugged and was now drowning in a warmth of sensation and bliss. His hands drifted delightfully, sweeping up her back—holding her but not forcing her against him. No, she was the one who pressed closer.

      Muscles... Yes, she’d known he had muscles. But never in her life had she wanted to rub against a man the way she did now. Without thinking, almost without realising, she opened her mouth. His tongue slid between her parted lips, stroking lightly, teasing, before pulling back to trace the full pout of her lower lip. She felt the gentle throb of her pulse there, so highly sensitised she almost moaned. His lips covered hers again and his tongue strayed deeper—piercing, stroking the cavern of her mouth. She mewled as he caressed her more gently, more intimately than any man had. Licking. Sucking. Taking.

      Her response was so sudden, so profound, that she began to tremble. Her fingers curled against the fine cotton of his shirt. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric. The heat that melded with her own. Something shifted deep inside her. Something irrevocable. And overwhelming.

      It was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. Those other few had been sloppy or hard, and always quick, because they’d simply left her cold. This was anything but cold.

      A great wave of sensation welled within her until she literally rose with it—reaching up onto her tiptoes, blindly stretching her arms over his shoulders, locking her hands about his neck, holding him as close as he held her. She flattened her breasts against his hard chest—her full, heavy breasts, with their achingly tight nipples—and the friction against his unyielding strength was devastating.

      Something else swirled—a new kind of hunger that pushed her to rock her hips against his. She moaned as he immediately held her with stronger hands. Every cell in her body sang as he braced himself to absorb the strain of her body and she writhed with her need to get closer still to his hard strength. He sealed his mouth to hers again and he held her hips to grind against her.

      For the first time in her life, Kassie had only one word in her mind, chanting over and over.

       More.

       More. More. More...

       CHAPTER THREE

      ‘YOUR HIGHNESS—’

      The door opened and Giorgos released her so quickly Kassie almost fell. Instantly his hand shot out and gripped her arm to support her. His grip was hard. So were his eyes—like banked furnaces—and his gaze lasered through her. Assessing. Judging.

      Dazed, she could see his thoughts racing. But she had no idea how the man could possibly think after experiencing that...that...

      She recovered her balance in another moment and surreptitiously tugged her arm free, fighting to catch her breath quietly. Mortification flooded her. She’d just been caught in the King’s arms like some shameless courtesan. But at the same time the interruption was welcome, because she had no idea where that might have gone if they hadn’t been broken apart like that. She’d never done that or felt that—she’d been right to be wary of him. He was dangerous. And fascinating.

      Sensation swirled around her body and embarrassment blushed over every inch of her skin. She realised the King was still staring at her, a thunderstruck expression on his face.

      ‘I apologise, Your Highness, but we have found—’

      ‘What?’ He whirled away to bark at the man.

      ‘These were hidden in the Princess’s wardrobe.’ The man held out some fabric and what looked like a knotted blue wig.

      From the frown on his face it was clearly something Giorgos recognised. Kassie suspected the truth now—the woman in the blue wig—Eleni’s disguise.

      ‘Leave it on the table,’ Giorgos snapped. ‘And close the door behind you.’

      The man’s face was completely blank as he swiftly left the room.

      ‘You’re searching her private things?’ Kassie whipped up her scorn, desperate to put space between them.

      ‘My sister is missing,’ he seethed. ‘Of course I am searching her rooms for clues. I’ll do whatever I have to do to find her.’

      Her pulse thundered. ‘And that’s what that kiss was?’ He’d thought he could seduce her into spilling all the secrets she didn’t even hold?

      ‘Sorry—was I too gentle? You wanted the chains?’ He suddenly smiled—a wicked, dangerous smile, as if he knew something she didn’t. ‘You’re the one fixated on becoming my prisoner. You know what that tells me about you?’

      She glared at him. She didn’t want to know what he thought of her now. She just wanted to get out of here—immediately—so she could try to assess and control the incoherent emotions coursing through her body.

      ‘You obviously know everything. Doubtless you’ve read some dossier...’

      ‘Actually, there was a lot left out,’ he drawled.

      He truly had a file on her? For how long had he been prying into her life? ‘What have you learned?’

      ‘You’re the only child of Petra Marron. Your father is John Gale—though he doesn’t acknowledge you as his daughter. You grew up in a small village an hour north of Palisades city. You excelled at school, and studied for your physiotherapy degree part-time after your mother became unwell with cancer. Upon graduation СКАЧАТЬ