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‘I don’t know,’ she said huskily. ‘Is that a proposal?’
His black eyes glittered and suddenly his hands dropped to her hips and she was being pushed firmly but gently up against the wall. The breath went out of her as he looked down into her eyes. ‘If it’s a proposal you want, then here it is. Marry me, Elenitsa.’
It wasn’t a request, it was an order; she could hear the edge of command in his voice. The stubborn part of her wanted to refuse, the lost girl who’d been abandoned by him and still felt that abandonment even years later. But she wasn’t that girl any more. She wasn’t a child. Marrying him wouldn’t mean anything, not if she didn’t want it to, and if it would get her what she wanted then why not?
He’d been the soldier who saved her, the prince, a fairy tale, a cipher. He’d never been a person to her, only a stranger. She didn’t know him now either, and so why she was letting him get to her so intensely, she had no idea.
Still, she didn’t see why all the power should be with him. She liked pushing him, liked testing herself against him. Found the sensual threat he presented and the sparks they created between them intensely exciting.
He unsettled her and she didn’t see why she shouldn’t return the favour. If she could...
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, wanting him to know that he wasn’t going to get it all his own way. ‘Convince me,’ she said, then reached up and began to undo his tie.
Atticus stared down into Elena’s darkening brown eyes. They were liquid with desire and her cheeks were flushed. The pulse at the base of her throat was fast and getting faster, and the heat of her body against his was rapidly making it impossible to think.
He wasn’t sure why she was so determinedly holding out against him, because he knew she wanted him and badly. He hadn’t been wrong about that. So was it only because she liked arguing with him, or was it really about the past still? Or was there more going on here than he thought, something else?
Her fingers tugged at his tie, pulling the silk out of its knot, and he let her. He was still in command of himself and he’d stay in command, no matter how hot her mouth tasted or how soft her body felt.
She dropped the tie onto the floor then began undoing the top buttons of his shirt, pulling open the cotton and baring his throat.
‘Seems like you’re already convinced,’ he murmured.
‘But I haven’t said yes yet.’ She put her hands on his chest and rose up onto her toes, putting her mouth at the base of his throat.
All his muscles tightened, desire pulsing like a giant heartbeat inside him. Her little tongue touched his skin, tasting him, and her lips were so soft. The pressure of her hands on his chest felt maddening. He wanted to feel her bare skin on his, because he could still remember how silky it had been and how hot. How sweet it had tasted, too.
And why not? If she was going to be his wife, there wasn’t any reason why they couldn’t fully indulge in the sexual attraction that burned between them. If they had to stay married for five years and there was a stipulation for children, then they were even obligated to indulge themselves. He certainly wasn’t going to remain celibate all that time, not when he very much wanted her.
She’s already made you lose control once. She’ll do it again if you’re not careful.
No, she wouldn’t. True, he’d been taken off guard a week ago when she’d first turned up and he hadn’t managed himself well. But he was prepared for his attraction to her now, he could control it. In fact, it would be easy. No doubt after five years it would burn itself out. In fact, he’d be surprised if it lasted beyond a year. Sexual infatuations always did, not that he’d ever been sexually infatuated with anyone.
Still, maybe this would be a good test for himself, and he did like testing himself. He did it constantly on the island, testing himself physically against the elements. He’d done so in the army too, after Dorian had died, applying to join the elite sniper unit. Handling a gun again had filled him with dread and yet he’d forced himself to become comfortable with it. He’d wanted to master his fear, wanted to master himself, so he’d never again be in a situation where he wasn’t in control. Where he wasn’t in complete command of the situation and of himself.
Becoming a sniper had been hard, both physically and emotionally, but he’d pushed himself to become the best they’d had. The coldest, the deadliest. No life was taken except when he willed it and he made no mistakes. Mistakes were unforgivable.
He’d made a mistake back in Jamaica in allowing his physical hunger to overcome him, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake now. She could do whatever she wanted to him. He wouldn’t break.
If he could pick up a gun again after Dorian had died, he could do anything at all.
She undid another button and then another, baring his skin to her kisses. He could hear her breathing getting faster and faster, could feel his own hunger tightening. He was getting hard, the beast in him urging him to push her against the wall, haul her dress up and get inside her as quickly as he could.
He ignored the feeling, putting his hands to the wall on either side of her head and pressing against it.
She pulled open the buttons of his shirt completely, baring his chest, her hands stroking him, following the lines of his pecs and down to his abs, caressing him as if he were a work of art and she were breathless before him.
Her fingertips were cool and he could smell her scent, sweet musk and apples, and a possessive growl formed in his throat. Then her fingers stroked lower, to the button of his trousers, and the growl rumbled in his chest, a low, rough sound.
It was getting harder not to touch her, not to rip away her veil and loose her hair. Not to force her head back and kiss her, taste her sweetness and heat. But no, he could bear this. There was no rush. He wasn’t going to take her like an animal the way he had last time. In fact, he might not take her at all. He wanted to, badly, but his body didn’t get to decide his actions. Only his mind did.
Her fingers were undoing his trousers now, finding the tab of his zip and taking hold of it.
‘What are you doing, Elenitsa?’ he asked in a voice that was much rougher than it should have been. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the one convincing you?’
‘I changed my mind.’ Slowly she drew down his zip, glancing up at him from beneath her thick golden lashes. ‘I think I need to convince myself.’
He gritted his teeth against the sudden rush of hunger. ‘Convince yourself of what? If it’s that I’ll give you pleasure, then you found that out pretty thoroughly last week.’
