I pull him down to me.
The kiss this time is different—hungrier, more urgent. Daniel makes a sound against my mouth that vibrates through my entire body. His hands slide from my face to my waist, pulling me flush against him.
"We should move," he murmurs between kisses. "The chair isn't—"
"I don't care about the chair."
But he's already lifting me, and I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking. The hard length of him presses against my core through layers of fabric. I gasp into his mouth. He groans in response, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine.
The study blurs as he carries me through a door I hadn't noticed. His bedroom. We tumble onto sheets that smell like cedar and something darker. Like him.
Daniel settles between my thighs, and even clothed, the weight of him makes me dizzy. His mouth finds the hollow of my throat. His teeth graze my pulse point, then soothe the sting with his tongue. I arch beneath him, fingers scrambling at his shirt buttons.
"Patience," he murmurs against my skin.
"I've been patient for nineteen years. I'm done being patient."
He laughs—low, dark, promising. Then his hands find my zipper.
The dress falls away. My undergarments follow. I should feel exposed, vulnerable, but Daniel looks at me like I'm something holy. Something worth worshiping. His grey-green eyes darken as they travel down my body, memorizing every single inch.
"Beautiful," he breathes. "Christ, you're beautiful."
His mouth closes over my nipple, and I cry out. The sound echoes off the walls. Hunter never drew sounds like this from me. Hunter barely noticed I was there at all.
Daniel notices everything.
His tongue circles the hardened peak while his hand cups my other breast. Kneading. Teasing. Learning exactly how much pressure makes me gasp, how much makes me moan. My back arches off the mattress. My fingers tangle in his silver-threaded hair.
"More," I manage. "Please."
He switches sides, giving equal worship while his free hand trails down my stomach. Over my hip. Along my inner thigh, maddeningly close but not close enough. When his fingers finally find my center, I'm already slick with wanting.
"So wet," he murmurs against my breast. "Is this all for me?"
"Yes. God, yes."
One finger slides inside me. Then two. His thumb finds the bundle of nerves that makes stars explode behind my eyes. He works me with devastating precision—curling his fingers just right, varying pressure and speed until he's mapped every response my body can give.
I climb higher. Faster. My hips rock against his hand without conscious decision. The tension coils tighter with every stroke, every curl, every devastating press of his thumb.
"Daniel—I'm going to—"
"Let go. I want to feel you come apart."
I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me, pleasure radiating outward until I'm trembling, gasping, his name torn from my throat like a confession I didn't know I was keeping.
He doesn't stop. Doesn't let me recover. His mouth travels down my stomach, following the path his fingers blazed. When his tongue replaces his thumb, I nearly sob from the intensity of sensation.
"I can't—it's too much—"
"You can." His voice vibrates against my most sensitive flesh. "You will."
He licks into me like a man starving. Long, slow strokes alternating with quick flicks against my clit. Two fingers pump inside me, curling to hit the spot that makes my vision white out. My thighs tremble around his head. My hands fist in the sheets.
The second orgasm builds faster than the first. I grip anything to anchor myself as the wave crests and breaks, leaving me boneless and breathless beneath him.
I'm still trembling when he rises over me, finally shedding his own clothes. His body is lean, muscled, the body of a man who's lived in it long enough to know its capabilities. His cock stands thick and ready, and I reach for him instinctively.
He groans when my fingers wrap around his length. Velvet over steel, hot and heavy in my palm. I stroke once, twice, watching his legendary composure crack completely.
"Are you sure?" he asks. Even now, even desperate, he gives me the choice.
"If you don't fuck me right now, I will actually scream."
He enters me in one smooth thrust. We both groan at the sensation—the stretch, the fullness, the absolute rightness of him inside me. He pauses, forehead pressed to mine, letting me adjust to the size of him.
"Move," I demand against his lips. "Please move."
He does. Slow at first, withdrawing almost completely before sliding deep again. Building a rhythm that has me clawing at his back, his shoulders, anywhere I can reach. His mouth captures mine, swallowing my moans.
The pace increases. Harder. Deeper. The headboard knocks against the wall. I wrap my legs around him, heels digging into his ass, pulling him impossibly closer, needing him everywhere at once.
"You feel incredible," he gasps against my throat. "So tight. So perfect."
His hand slides between us, thumb circling my clit in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation is overwhelming. I'm climbing again, impossibly, toward a third peak that might actually destroy me completely.
"Come with me," I beg. "Daniel—please—"
He thrusts harder. Faster. His rhythm turns ragged, desperate. When I shatter this time, clenching around him, he follows with a groan. My name torn from his throat like prayer.
We collapse together, sweat-slicked and breathing hard. His weight presses me into the mattress—grounding rather than crushing. Something cracks open in my chest. A vulnerability I haven't allowed myself in years. Maybe ever.
His fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder. Spirals and shapes without meaning.
"This changes everything," Daniel says finally, voice rough. "I can't pretend you're just a charge to protect. Not after this."
"I don't want you to pretend."
"There are complications. The age difference. The political implications if anyone discovered—"
"Makes you experienced and me lucky." I trace patterns on his chest. "Next objection."
His laugh rumbles against me. "Strategic affairs weren't covered in my diplomatic training."
"Consider this professional development."
Silence stretches between us. Comfortable. Warm.
"We keep this secret," he says. "For now. Until after the coronation."
"Agreed. And if it becomes complicated, we handle it together. Isn't that what alliances are for?"
"This isn't an alliance." His arms tighten around me. "Alliances can be dissolved. This feels permanent."
The word should frighten me. It doesn't.
"Good," I whisper. "Permanent sounds good."
We talk until the fire burns low. About his failed marriage and my failed engagement. About the weight of crowns and the price of ambition. About everything and nothing at all.
"You should sleep," Daniel murmurs eventually, stroking my hair. "Tomorrow brings more battles."
"Stay with me."
"I'm not going anywhere."
For the first time since arriving at the palace, I don't feel alone. The loneliness that haunted me through nineteen years of borrowed gowns and whispered insults finally loosens its grip.
My eyes drift closed. His heartbeat keeps time beneath my ear.
For one night, I'm just a woman in the arms of a man who chose her.
It's finally enough.
________________