Page 81 of Peasants and Kings
“I wish you had been,” he said, brogue thick and sensual. “I wish there had been no one before me so that you knew nothing except me. I wish I could’ve been the one to worship you first.”
My hand reached out to gently clasp the back of Hadrian’s neck, my thumb stroking his jaw, forcing his gaze to mine. I leaned toward him and settled my lips on his.
I was unable to stop my body’s reaction to him.
Hadrian’s hands reached out and grasped my hips, all but hauling me onto his lap. He became the aggressor.
I knew what it was like to want to change the past, but the past was already written. It could not be stricken from the book of who we were any more than a thread could be pulled on an old sweater without destroying what it was.
We could only look to the present.
“Hadrian,” I whispered against his mouth.
“I told you I wanted every part of you,” he growled against my lips.
“You can’t have something that never belonged to you,” I said, pulling away, just enough so that I could rest my head on his shoulder, in the crook of his neck.
Lust coiled inside of me and raged in my blood, and I chose to believe that was the reason I wanted to offer him something truthful, a small measure of comfort.
“It doesn’t matter who’s been before you. None of them compare to you. Okay?” I lifted my head to look into his turbulent eyes.
“Okay,” he said, his voice whisper-soft.
Shivering, I tried to climb off his lap, but he wouldn’t let me. So I ate my breakfast from the confines of his embrace, wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into.
Hadrian was silent, content to hold me and every now and again brush the hair off my shoulder or steal a hand across my back.
When I was finished, I said, “I’m just now realizing we’re not moving.”
“I had them drop anchor in the middle of the night.”
“Why? I thought you wanted to get home.”
“I do, but I also wanted you to have a view of the island during breakfast,” he said. “The truth is, we could have been home in a couple of hours at top speed, but I had the captain take his time overnight so we’d be here this morning.”
I couldn’t stop the smile from blooming across my face. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“No trying about it,” he said, humor tingeing his own lips. “Iamactively seducing you. I’m Hadrian Rhys.”
After another cappuccino, Hadrian and I returned to the master cabin and the yacht began to move again. I got dressed for the day and put on some make up, despite the occasional interference of Hadrian’s wandering hands. While I was pulling on a pair of dark jeans and a blue sweater, I heard a bell sound over an intercom system.
I looked at Hadrian.
He grinned back at me. “We’re home.”
I slid back into my boots since we were about to leave the yacht and let Hadrian escort me to the deck. The yacht was docked at a private pier and I had an expansive view of the island. Sunlight highlighted the gray, craggy mountains that seemed to loom over the entire beach.
On the paved road a few feet from the pier was the hottest car I’d ever seen.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
“The view?” he asked in amusement.
“No.” I dropped his hand and ran toward the vintage muscle car. “You own a mint condition ’67 Shelby Cobra convertible with a blue and white racing stripe paint job?”
“This? This is what turns your head?” Hadrian asked with a laugh, following me at a leisurely pace. “Not the jet, not the yacht? This car?”
“I know you’re rich, Hadrian,” I said with a look at him, “but now I know you also have style.” My hand glided up the hood of the convertible. “What do I have to do to get you to let me drive it?”
