Page 122 of Modern Romance September 2026 Books 1-4

Enrique turned and moved back towards the car without comment, leaving Astrid to step into the elevator with those butterflies in her belly working overtime now.

‘Your Majesty,’ he murmured in that deep, throaty voice of his.

Everything went haywire in her body. All she could do was stare at him as the doors swooshed closed.

‘Javier.’

God, how she loved saying his name. The depth of it, the feel, the husk of that first syllable.

He moved quickly and she thanked the heavens for that, his large body stepping forward to close the gap between them, pushing her back against the mirrored wall of the elevator and kissing her as though his life depended on it. Kissing her like he knew butterflies were beginning to swarm her certainty, to make her doubt the wisdom of this night she wanted to steal for herself.

His kiss drove any question from her mind, leaving only red-hot need in its place. His touch on her body was demanding and possessive, as though they’d been born to do this. His hands pulling at the silk shirt she’d tucked into a knee length skirt, so he could connect with the bare skin of her hips as his mouth ravaged hers. He ran his touch higher, to the underwire of her bra. She trembled when he brushed her skin, covering her in goosebumps. As he did in the palace parlour, Javier moved his leg between hers. This time, she pushed down onto it with pure, wanton need.

‘I am going to take you, Your Majesty, and make you mine. I am going to make you see stars. Would you like that?’

He wasn’t asking because he doubted her feelings. He was asking because he wanted her to admit it. He wanted to hear her say it.

‘Why do you think I’m here?’ she responded breathily.

She felt his grin against her mouth. Then, his hands were moving, gripping her hips and turning her around, so she was face to face with her flushed, wild expression in the mirror, his head above hers meeting her eyes, holding them there.

‘Here, in my house, you are not a queen,’ he said, as one hand snaked down her belly, towards the band of her skirt.

Behind him, the elevator doors opened, revealing a large living area, but she barely noticed. How could she, when his hand was moving inside her skirt, beneath her underpants and once more touching her most intimate flesh?

‘Here, you are simply Astrid. Mine to please and torment.’

‘Torment?’ she asked as he moved his hand and she closed her eyes on a wave of feeling.

‘Look in the mirror,’ he commanded, tone gruff.

She blinked her eyes open, her gaze falling to him.

‘At yourself,’ he corrected. ‘Watch how beautiful you are, when you fall apart.’

At first, it felt impossible. To see herself like this, flushed and panting, was to almost be peering through the looking glass, at a version of herself so wholly unrecognisable as to be false. A dream. But there was nothing false about what he was doing, about the frantic mania of need he was unravelling in her.

‘Javier!’ His name was a desperate plea, his knee behind her bottom driving her forward, as his fingers moved. Wave after wave of heated need crashed upon her. His other hand cupped first one breast, then the other, kneading her soft, sensitive flesh through the lace of her bra, before his mouth dropped to the exposed flesh of her neck and began to kiss and suck, his teeth pressing there until she could hardly breathe.

‘Oh, God,’ she moaned again, tilting her head back. She was no longer able to stare at herself, for how totally immersive and terrifying the image was.

This orgasm was so different to the one she’d felt in the palace. This was totally unhinged, unguarded, unrestrained. It was a moment of pure release, of giddy, bodily surrender.

He moved his mouth to her ear and said in a low murmur, almost a whisper, ‘I cannot wait to take you, Astrid.’

He moved then, spinning her easily as though she were a doll, so they were face to face, toe to toe.

‘I cannot wait to take you,’ he said again. Then, dropping his mouth to hers, he flicked her with his tongue and she cried out, her insides so completely aflame she couldn’t think straight. ‘I cannot wait to taste you. To make you scream. And yes, to torment you, with how much your body wants mine, before I claim you.’

She shivered at the possessive imagery he was evoking, at the way her body responded with utter, all-consuming wants.

‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she asked breathily. ‘I didn’t come here to talk, you know.’

The flicker on his lips set her world on fire. When he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his waist, her skirt tore. She didn’t have the presence of mind to care, not even a little bit.

* * *

Every bone in his body was telling him to go slow. It had been a long time since he’d slept with a virgin. Hell, had it been his first time, too? Yet something about Astrid rendered that consideration irrelevant. She wasn’t a queen, she wasn’t a virgin, she was just Astrid. There was an inevitability to this that went beyond anything else.