Free In Defiance of Duty by Caitlin Crews Page A

turning his own mad desire back on him—sending them both higher. Hotter. She tugged his coat from his shoulders, his shirt from his trousers. He unhooked her from her gown with more determination than finesse, and then she was pushing him down on the nearest sofa. He twisted her beneath him, settling himself between her thighs as they wrestled off what remained of their clothing and then he found his way into the molten core of her, thrusting hard. Deep.
    She gasped, arching up against him, locking her long, smooth legs tight around his hips. He exulted in the heat of her, the lush softness. The perfect fit. The way her hips rose to meet his, then rolled in that particular way that was all Kiara. All his.
    He slowed, brushing her hair back from her face and waiting for her eyes to open, to focus on him.
    “Tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
    But she only moved her hips against him, her ankles locked in the small of his back. He leaned down and pulled one of her tight, hard nipples into his mouth, making her laugh and then moan.
    “Tell me,” he said again, and then began to move, his strokes measured and deep, making her shudder against him.
    “I’ve told you in a thousand ways,” she said, her voice uneven, her body arching to meet his thrusts. “You need to learn how to listen.” So he listened. He took her other nipple in his mouth, reached down between them to the place where they were joined, and with a single sure touch, threw her right over the edge.
    And then he did it all over again.
    And again.
    Until, he was sure, nothing at all could ever matter but this.
    When he woke, it was morning.
    He pulled on the nearest thing he could find and made his way out into the long living area of the suite. He found her fully dressed in one of her elegant day dresses and standing by the windows in the great room. She held her morning cup of coffee between her hands, her eyes fixed out the window again, as if the rooftops opposite held secrets she was determined to solve.
    “We will not fly out for another few hours,” he said, his voice still raspy from sleep. And the lack of it. He was happier than he perhaps should be that the tour was finally over, that he could revel in this morning, empty of his aides and his responsibilities, for now. He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of her neck.
    “Come back to bed.”
    “I can’t,” she said. Then a small sound, as if she sucked in a breath. “I’m not going back to Khatan with you.”
    “Where are you going?” He felt lazy. Indulgent.
    He helped himself to her coffee, pulling the heavy ceramic mug from her hand and taking a pull of it before handing it back to her. She set it down on a nearby accent table and then looked at him, her gaze unreadable.
    “Australia.”
    He nodded absently and turned back toward the bedroom, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He was thinking of the shower, and how good the hot water would feel against his skin. He was wondering how long he could keep any outside thoughts at bay this morning, after such a long and satisfying night—how long he could pretend he was nothing more than a man. Not a king at all today. Not yet.
    “Are you planning to visit your mother?” he asked over his shoulder. “When will you return?” She didn’t respond. He turned again, to find her watching him with an expression he didn’t recognize on her pretty face. Resigned, perhaps. Some mix of sadness and something else, something like defiance.
    “What is it?” he asked, on alert again.
    “That’s just it, Azrin,” she said. “I don’t know that I will return.”
    If it had not been for that terrible, arrested look on his face, the sudden stillness in his powerful body, Kiara might have thought she hadn’t spoken out loud.
    “I need some time,” she said.
    She wasn’t sure, now, if it was some newfound strength or simple desperation that had chased her from their bed this morning, got her to stop her silent, pointless sobbing in the shower,