Page 54 of Claimed By the Crown Prince

He took off Laia’s kaftan again and turned her around, undoing her bikini and peeling it away. He stepped out of his own shorts. Laia marvelled that she didn’t feel more self-conscious—but how could she when he was in front of her, naked?

There was something very elemental about being in this place, surrounded by heat and lush forest. Just them.

Dax stepped under the shower, bringing Laia with him. He washed her hair, working it into a lather and then massaging her skull with strong hands. Laia’s head fell back at the exquisiteness of his touch. Then he rinsed her hair and worked soap into his hands again, to wash her body so thoroughly that she was shaking when his hand slipped between her legs and he found where she was so slick and ready.

It only took the barest of touches for her to come apart against his hand. She would have fallen at his feet if he hadn’t held her up. She couldn’t speak. She could only be manoeuvred as he turned off the shower and dried her hair, wrapped her in a towel.

He knotted a towel around his own waist. Laia looked at him, and this time she took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom. She wanted to worship at this man’s feet.

She undid the towel at his waist she bent down in front of his majestic masculinity.

Roughly, he said, ‘Laia, you don’t have to...’

But Laia ignored him and wrapped her hand around him, in awe at the vulnerability and the strength of him. She felt powerful at Dax’s feet in a way that only he had evoked within her. Powerful in her newfound sensuality and femininity.

She bent forward and experimented, flicking her tongue over the head of his erection. A shudder went through his body and she felt it all the way down to her own core, where she was still slick, aching for more. Her breasts felt tight.

Laia took more of him into her mouth, exploring the thick, hard, shaft of flesh. She heard an indrawn hiss of breath, felt the tension in Dax’s body, and the way his hips started to move.

But then he reached down and pulled her up. His cheeks were slashed with colour, eyes blazing. Hot again. Not cold.

‘I need to be inside younow.’

Laia lay back on the bed and Dax came over her, entering her body in a smooth thrust so deep and all-consuming that she arched against him. But then he cursed and withdrew, and Laia let out a little cry. It had felt so good...skin on skin.

And then she saw him roll protection onto his length.Oh.

Heat suffused her whole body. She hadn’t even thought about protection.

He came back and smoothed a hand up her thigh to her breast. He cupped the flesh and bent his head, surrounding one nipple in hot, wet heat just as he entered her again. Laia threw her head back and gritted her jaw, as if that might help contain the building tension coiling deep inside her, stoked by Dax’s body moving in and out in a rhythm that made her feverish for release.

But he kept her on the brink...a form of delicious torture...until Laia could stand it no more and cried out, begging, pleading for him to let her go.

And finally, having mercy, he did. He thrust so deep and hard that he stole every coherent thought in Laia’s head. She was no longer human. She was energy and light and an immense pleasure that gripped Dax tight, deep within her body, as he found his own release and shouted out. And then they both tumbled and fell back to earth.

Dax stood on the deck outside the bedroom. It was dusk, but the sky wasn’t lavender—it was grey and threatening. The air felt heavy and full of pent-up electricity. A storm was coming. He could see the fishing boats heading back for the bigger island. He noticed that even the security team’s boat had moved, presumably to a more sheltered area.

But even though the atmosphere was heavy, for the first time in a long time Dax felt light. Lighter. As if a burden had been lifted.

Talking to Laia...telling her about his mother...the crash...had been cathartic. Laia’s calm and compassionate acceptance of what he’d said—the ugliness he’d held inside him for so long—had been like a balm.

Maybe he was finally letting go of the crushing guilt that should never have been his to bear. Maybe he’d finally feel worthy.

Dax turned around. The net was around the bed, so he couldn’t see Laia, but he could imagine her. Naked. Limbs sprawled in glorious abandon. The dips and hollows, the firm swells of her buttocks and breasts. Those eyes that opened wide when he joined their bodies and the way she had knelt at his feet like the most decadent supplicant. She’d tortured him a little. She was learning fast.

And soon she won’t be yours any more. You’ve initiated her for someone else. Someone she can love and respect.

The thought of Laia moving on and finding this man who would be worthy of her love and respect was enough to make bile form in Dax’s belly. He cursed himself and turned around again, putting his hands on the railing.

What the hell did he want? To keep seeing Laia beyond this point?

Yes.The answer was emphatic.

But it was impossible. She would be crowned Queen within days and her life would not be her own. She would be watched and commented on. If Dax went near her it would cause a sensation and a ream of headlines about his suitability.

He was not her destiny. She was not his. He had lived a life that put him firmly in the veryunsuitable bracket for a queen. He could never be a king. He’d learnt that a long time ago.

He heard a squeal from behind him and turned around to see Laia in a robe, belting it at her waist. She looked so beautiful it hurt. She was grinning.