The Illegitimate King / Friday Night Mistress. Оливия ГейтсЧитать онлайн книгу.
gaze sluiced over her like silky, warm water, lingering on each inch of visible skin, making her want to moan with the pleasure of his visual caress. “Your skin is the finest and softest that I’ve ever seen. Or touched.” His lids grew heavier as he smoothed the expanse of skin where her jacket and the form-fitting top beneath it had ridden up at her back. She stiffened with the blow of sensation. He gathered her more securely to him. “But it isn’t the type prone to sunburning. In fact, I think you’d tan spectacularly.”
His compliment went straight to her every hunger and vulnerability. Confusion over his motivation gave way to intense pleasure and self-consciousness. “I probably got badly burned once, when I was too young to remember. That and an over-protective mother kept me indoors from then on.”
He gave her a long look, eloquent with disbelief. Out loud he said, “And you just agreed? You didn’t want to rebel, seek all the freedoms and pleasures the sea has to offer? Doesn’t sound like the Clarissa D’Agostino I know.”
“Uh…you have a very rosy picture of the life of a princess.”
“You mean I can’t appreciate the impositions you had, and still have to put up with, as part and parcel of your status?” She braced herself for the frustration his next words would provoke. Everyone, especially men, had always said they understood how it had been for her, had tried to…console her for being such a poor, oppressed royal girl. His next words sent her preconceptions scattering. “No, I can’t. I can only imagine some of them. But, since I never thought running on the beach and swimming in the sea were among the things you had to forgo, I must have imagined quite wrong. Even if I didn’t, only you can speak of your experience.”
She blinked back hot tears. He had understood. Something she’d never thought she’d ever feel toward him spread its balmy coolness inside her chest: thankfulness.
She bit her lip, nodded. “Whatever the reason, I never developed any fascination for the sea.”
“You’re fascinated now.”
She tore her gaze away from his all-knowing one, cast it wide.
He was right. She’d never felt this thrill at witnessing what had always been there since she’d been born. She felt she was experiencing it all with new senses. With a few word of soulsearing insight, he’d made her realize the deprivation she’d suffered, of something so rich with pleasures, so available to anyone. Just being so close to him, his hands hugging her behind her knees and back, her palm still resting over his heart feeling it pumping steadily, as if he hadn’t covered half a mile of beach with her in his arms, had made her…Dio, she was still in his arms!
She couldn’t take one more second of this. She began to wriggle to free herself and he suddenly stopped, whispered, “Watch.”
She jerked toward the point his eyes were fixed on. They were at the top of a dune where the shore extended to her vision’s limit. She held her breath, felt him holding his as the red sun seemed to accelerate toward the darkening azure waters. Then they touched, seemed to melt into one another, and he exhaled, molded her closer, as if to echo the celestial embrace.
A long moment passed as they shared the evocative display of sheer beauty, before she at last insisted he put her down.
He tightened his hold. “You’re sure you’re not uncomfortable walking barefoot on the sand?”
“It really was just a shock how good it felt.”
A strange watchfulness descended on his face. Then he slowly released her, his eyes clinging to her face as if he wanted to record her reaction, memorize every nuance passing through her.
For the first time, she didn’t want to hide her responses from him. She felt he had a right to witness them, in return for this gift he’d given her.
She moaned in pleasure as she again felt the sand flow between her toes, tickling her skin and massaging her soles.
The feeling was incredible, energizing. She gave in to it, to the unadulterated freedom and vitality it imbued her with.
She whooped, giggled, ran.
With every bound on the magical medium she’d lived her life looking at and never seeing, never experiencing, a burst of speed poured into her limbs. She heard his deep chuckles pursuing her. Unfettered laughter escaped her in response. And if a voice told her she must have plummeted into a parallel universe, to be running on a beach with Ferruccio Selvaggio chasing after her, it was silenced as soon as it spoke up. So what, if it felt this good?
Then she cleared another dune and saw it by the gently frothing waves. A huge circle of torch-topped, polished brass poles with a table set for two in its middle.
She turned to him in excitement, then sped ahead, the setup’s details coming into focus. A lavender silk tablecloth draped the table, undulated like something alive in the gentle breeze. Gleaming black plates contrasted with its dreamy hue, while glittering silver utensils and crystal glasses added flashes of splendor. A buffet was set to the side.
She arrived at the table, swung around and grinned at him as he caught up with her, her breathing and heartbeat accelerating under the effect of his approach rather than from exertion.
His breathing was a bit quicker, but even, easy, his eyes gleaming silver with exhilaration. “Not only do you run like a lioness in that constrictive skirt, but you beat me, too. How fast would you be in something suitable?”
More heat rushed to her head, her cheeks. “It isn’t that constrictive. And you weren’t trying to outrun me.”
He huffed a chuckle. “I gave it a good shot, believe me. I’m pretty fast. But you’re much faster.”
Her grin widened with pleasure at the ease with which he admitted she’d beaten him, his obvious enjoyment of the fact even. “I’ll tell you my secret so you won’t feel bad about it. I held my university’s record in the indoor pentathlon for three consecutive years, and the regional one for two of those.”
He looked genuinely impressed. Even though she got the feeling he already knew that. “And it’s clear you’ve kept in shape ever since.” His eyes again detailed how much said “shape” pleased them. “And now you’ll add outdoor events to your repertoire. Including swimming in the sea. With me.” She opened her mouth, closed it, the images his words had playing in her mind’s eye turning her mute. Suddenly his smile’s wattage spiked. “I bet you’ve crossed from hungry to starving after the unexpected exercise.”
He tugged her to the buffet, exposed hot and cold serving plates, piled her plate with mouthwatering delicacies. She didn’t protest. After going without more than a cup of tea since seeing her father yesterday, she was famished.
What followed was something she’d only dreamed of.
Even in fantasy, it had never been so easy, so natural. So unbelievable. They ate and exchanged anecdotes about their lives, opinions about almost everything, agreed, teased, laughed, and she found herself with the man she’d seen that first time—the one she’d felt connected to. Before everything had crashed around her ears and remained there in ruins for the past six years.
Now it was as if the years hadn’t passed in tension and avoidance, as if this was the natural progression of that moment she’d thought so enchanted. And it did feel enchanted, yet more real than anything she’d ever experienced. He felt real. His real self, not the persona he projected when he moved through the ultra-formal settings where she’d made sure they always met with the buffer of her family around. Now that he was away from it all, he showed her sides of him she hadn’t suspected existed, every glimpse enthralling her, embroiling her in the exhilaration of tangling with his wickedness and wit.
Sunset had morphed into the most breathtaking twilight she’d ever witnessed. The impossibly clear, totally unpolluted skies became a sweeping canvas of hues jeweled by strokes and patterns of clouds that had seemed to materialize just to reflect and prism the lingering light into ephemeral paintings that stunned the senses. Then it all gradually faded under