Page 42 of From London, With Love
Launching to his feet, he swiftly buttoned his trousers and then went after her.
The queen had not yet made her escape when he barreled through the doors to her drawing room.
The second she heard the doors slam behind her, she flinched, whirling on him with her fists balled. A flash of fear darkened her eyes before she tipped her chin up, but it made him slam to a halt as nothing else would.
“This discussion is over,” she told him.
“Because you say it is?”
“I’m the queen,” she told him imperiously. “So, yes, it’s over because I say it is.”
“Hogwash,” he said, taking a step toward her. “You’re afraid, and you’re running away from whatever it is that frightens you. Talk to me, Alexa. Please. Help me understand.”
Emotion warred upon her face.
She never liked to be vulnerable, he knew.
“Did I frighten you?” he pleaded. He moved, blocking her escape but not putting hands on her. “Why will you not let me pleasure you? Was it my touch?”
The queen’s face flushed. “Because I don’t need that. An heir does not require that I be touched. It’s just… thrusting. And if I’m no longer afraid, then I can manage that. It’s not your touch. It’s too much. I used to… I used to imbibe milk of poppy before he came to me. And I could tolerate it, if I could drift through it. But when you touch me, it feels as though my nerve endings are alight. As though I’m on the verge of losing control.”
Violence spilled through him, inarticulate and furious. If the bastard wasn’t dead, he’d have murdered the prince consort with his bare hands.
Instead, he pressed a hand to the side of her hip. “No, begetting an heir doesn’t require pleasure, but you should demand it. You should know it at least once in your damned life.”
Her eyes snapped fire. “Who are you to deem what I should and shouldn’t know?”
No one. I am no one. His lips pressed firmly together. “I thought we were in this together? I thought this was a partnership?”
“You’re complaining because I will give you pleasure but won’t accept it?” she scoffed. “What sort of man are you?”
One who loves you.
One who wants every piece of you, even as you deny him.
But again, he could not say it.
Instead, he was forced to yield, lowering his forehead to hers. “I am not the sort of gentleman who leaves a lady wanting. You damn me to be selfish, Alexandra, and I will not have it.”
“Will not have it?”
“Will not,” he said sternly.
The breath came out of her in a rush.
So. Not as unaffected as she claimed.
He brushed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Let me, Alex. Let me love every inch of you. Let me worship you and show you what it can be like between a man and a woman.”
Closing her eyes, she slowly nodded.
Gideon kissed her. Soft, gentle kisses that stoked and stirred. He sensed the moment she began to kiss him back, surrendering to her fate.
Pressing her back against the door, he trailed his lips down her throat. Her breasts lifted as she inhaled, her hazel eyes glittering with suppressed need as he worked his way down her body. Finally he was kneeling on one knee at her feet, his hands sliding beneath her green skirts. Looking up, he slowly slid his hands up her stockinged calves.
Alexandra shivered.
But she did not look away.
