Page 42 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

But he didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he lifted his hand and tugged her lower lip free from her teeth. Laia held her breath. Dax’s gaze was on her mouth.

He said, almost to himself, ‘Would I be happy to let you go to him...?’

He shook his head, and then he looked at her and she could see fires blazing in his eyes. A slow surge of euphoria made its way into her blood.

‘No, Laia, I wouldn’t be happy to let you go to him, or to anyone else. Because I want you and I’m done fighting it. You’re mine.’

Laia trembled. She’d campaigned for this—she’d asked for it...all but begged for it. But was she really ready for it?

A kaleidoscope of pictures flashed through her head: seeing him that first time in Paris, all the tabloid images she’d pored over for years, Monte Carlo and now here. This moment. This man.

Yes.

She put her hand on his chest, over his heart, and said, ‘Then make me yours, Dax.’

Dax had tipped over the edge of any control he possessed and was walking through fire. Let this woman go? Walk away? Without tasting her?

The thought made him feral.

He finally understood that Laia absolutely meant what she said. She had no intention of ever marrying his brother. In truth, he’d understood it for a while, but he’d been fighting his own desire because he’d never, ever gone against Ari in his life.

But something Laia had said had resonated with him. She selfishly wanted to take something for herself. While the eyes of the world were turned away.

In doing this, Dax would be embarking on the most selfish thing he’d ever done. And in many ways the worst thing he’d ever done. Taking his brother’s promised bride.

If he’d felt tainted and damned by the past before, now he would be tainted and damned in the present. But there was no turning back. He knew Ari had no real appreciation for this woman. He’d always known it. Laia was right—Ari just saw her as the next step.

Even so, Dax knew he was crossing a line and he would never forgive himself. He would have to add this to the line he’d crossed that day of the car crash. He was good at crossing lines and accepting guilt. He’d accepted that a long time ago.

And there was no way he could hold back from what this woman was offering. She was sweet and pure and light—and, fatally, he was drawn to her as if she could offer him some kind of absolution. He did not deserve this. But he was taking it.

There was no other choice—there never had been. He could see that now—he was filled with a primal need to possess that he’d never experienced before.

He put his hand over Laia’s on his chest. The way she did that...it pierced something inside him, some of the darkness. He threaded his fingers through hers and then, taking her hand, he led her through the villa and up the stairs.

The night was warm and soft around them. Only the night chorus of insects and small animals broke the peace.

But Dax couldn’t even hear that. All he could hear was the pounding of his blood. And his heart.

Laia felt as if she was in some kind of dreamlike state as she followed Dax up the stairs, her hand in his, fingers entwined, as if they’d been lovers for years.

There was no hesitation.

The lights were low, infusing everything with a low golden glow, and Dax led her into his bedroom and closed the door. He let her hand go and went over to the shutters, pulling them closed. Then he dropped the net around the bed.

Laia watched him. He turned around and came towards her. He stopped in front of her.

‘Turn around.’

Laia did as he said. He pulled her hair free, so that it fell down her back. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her again to face him. Her skin felt so sensitive.

But he didn’t touch her straight away. He said, ‘I’ve suspected something, but I need to know...’

Laia knew what he was going to say, and she knew it would be futile to pretend otherwise. So she swallowed her self-consciousness and said, ‘I’m not experienced. At all.’

A muscle pulsed in Dax’s jaw. ‘No lovers?’

She shook her head.