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Had she liked the feel of him as much as he’d liked the feel of her?
For a second neither of them spoke, then her gaze dipped to his mouth and an arrow of pure desire punched him hard in the stomach, stealing his breath. He should step back, let her go, put some distance between them. But the way she was looking at him was intoxicating.
She wants you. You know she does.
He released her hips and took the orange from her hands. ‘Here,’ he murmured. ‘Let me.’
And he began to peel it slowly.
She didn’t make any effort to step back, remaining where she was, standing close, with barely an inch between them, watching him peel the orange.
It was dangerous to have her so close, to do what he was intending, yet he couldn’t stop. And once he’d finished with the peel and discarded it onto the grass he pulled apart the fruit, holding a segment between his fingers.
‘Open your mouth,’ he ordered softly, letting her see what was in his eyes, making no secret of the desire that tightened every muscle in his body.
This was a challenge—that was all. A test of his own control. He had no doubt he would pass it. He only wanted to see what would happen if he made it clear that he could feel this electricity between them. He wanted to know what she’d do. In his head he’d already pictured her blushing deeply and stumbling back—because, after all, her interactions with men hadn’t been pleasant ones.
But she didn’t.
Instead she opened her mouth, her gaze fixed on his.
Desire flared bright inside him, and before he knew what he was doing he’d lifted the segment of orange to her mouth and her small white teeth were taking a bite out of it. She chewed and swallowed and then took the rest of segment from his fingers, the softness of her mouth brushing against his skin, followed by the touch of her tongue as she licked the juice from his thumb.
An electric shock arced straight through him, stealing his breath, stealing all thought. And then, obeying an urge he couldn’t have resisted if he’d tried, he took her chin in a firm grip and bent his head to taste the sweetness of her mouth.
Guinevere knew he was going to kiss her. She could feel it…could see the intention laid bare in his silver eyes. Perhaps it had been a mistake to get him to lift her up so she could pick the orange, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d just wanted to pick the fruit. Then, as he’d eased her down the length of his body until she was on her feet again, she hadn’t been thinking at all.
There had been only him and the granite press of his chest against her sensitive breasts. The hard feel of his thighs. The heat of his skin and the smell of him, salt and sea and dry earth, now overlaid with a musky, masculine scent that made her mouth go dry with a new and painful desire.
When he’d taken the orange from her and begun to peel it she hadn’t been able to drag her gaze away from the movement of his hands. Long, blunt fingers…scars on his skin. Large, rough hands and yet gentle enough remove the peel without tearing the delicate skin of the orange itself.
The contrasts in him fascinated her.
Her heart had begun to beat loudly in her head, prickles of heat sweeping over her. She’d known that it was a mistake to stay so close to him, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to move away. And then, when he’d offered her the orange segment, she’d seen desire in his intense grey gaze, a flame burning, and along with it a challenge.
She wasn’t sure what had possessed her to obey his order and open her mouth, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Maybe it was the sudden surge of bravery that had swept over her as she’d stepped out of the palace and into the gardens, her hand in his. Or the delight of having the sun on her face and the wind in her hair, the rich scent of the forest and the slight tinge of snow on the mountains.
It had all been thrilling, amazing, and for the first time in her life she hadn’t felt afraid—not of anything.
She wasn’t afraid of him either. Nor of the blatant heat in his eyes.
That was thrilling too, and a deep part of her was flooded with a sudden sense of power. That this warrior, this enemy, this king, should look at her like that. Her, the forgotten mouse hiding in the walls of the palace. The girl no one had ever cared about enough to protect, or even just not to hurt.
He wanted her.
And, while she’d never known what it was to want anyone physically before, shewascertain that right now she wanted him. Honestly, why wouldn’t she? He was dangerous, but so beautiful, and even though that should have made her feel threatened, it didn’t.
He would never hurt her. She knew it the way she knew her own name.
He was in dark suit trousers today, with a deep blue shirt that made his eyes glow blue-silver, standing out starkly against his olive skin. He’d been terse when she’d arrived late, explaining to her with some severity exactly what his issue with time was. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t expected, either, the rush of sympathy she’d felt when he’d told her that he was responsible for his country. It had seemed like such a heavy burden, and she’d told him so. But he’d shrugged it away.
Then he’d held out his hand to her to help her step outside, despite the glower on his compelling features, and she hadn’t even thought why that might not be a good idea, she’d just taken it.
He was a severe man, vibrating with a taut, impatient energy she found absolutely mesmerising. His hand was warm, and so was his body. And when she’d bitten through that segment, and the juice had run down his thumb, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from licking it, tasting the sweetness of the orange and the salt on his skin.
She could taste those same things now, with his mouth on hers…oranges and salt and something darker, richer. Delicious. He smelled like freedom and tasted of courage, and she wanted those two things more than she wanted her next breath.
Thought was difficult, and his kiss was hot, and she could barely take in anything else. Then the kiss turned even hotter, became demanding, and she couldn’t resist opening her mouth beneath his.