Loving the Forbidden Prince

Chapter 92 - Short Stack Of Nickels

READER SHOUT OUT: This chapter is dedicated to the OG-Readers group. Thank you for being a daily joy to me!

*****

ETAN

He could see it. He knew it was true.

She wanted him. She wanted this. Now. Here. And he even understood why.

He arched into her and the delicious friction between them almost sent him over the edge. She whispered his name, and 'yes,' and she sighed. Her hand stroked his shoulders, and her cheeks pinked, and her breath held in response to his attentions.

He could have her now, and it would be beautiful. It would be without the pressure or witness. And they would never regret it between them, he was sure.

And for a moment, he gave over to that thought. He clutched at her and kissed her and didn't stop her when she put her hands between them to begin on his trousers.

He didn't stop her at the first button, or the second.

He didn't stop her when she'd popped the last one—he groaned as he sprang free and into her hands and all thoughts he had of anything scattered like clouds before a Mistrian wind.

Her hands on him.

Dear god.

Dear… god.

Dear, God, help. Help him. He couldn't do this now. He couldn't give in. He knew—he knew!

With a guttural groan he wrenched himself away, pushed back and up and to his feet, exposing himself to her wide, shocked gaze. She stared and licked her lips and he almost gave in again, but he turned with a hoarse, "We can't Ayleth. I'm so sorry. We can't." And, shucking off his boots and trousers, ran for the lake like a child fleeing a monster in the dark.

Naked, he plunged into the chill water and dove to the bottom, pulling himself through it with long strokes, no thought in his head except to give himself a moment to find his sanity.

But he didn't have air. A moment later he broke through the surface, tossing his hair out of his eyes and raking it back to find Ayleth sitting, still under the tree, her arms over her chest, staring at him, wide-eyed.

*****

AYLETH

Water sluiced down his body, following the curves and lines of his muscles that she'd never seen before in quite such sharp relief. His stomach was clenched against the cold, and his hands clenched—probably against her. His entire body was rigid. Like carved marble. And just as beautiful.

She followed the trail of one rivulet that began at his collarbone, sliding between his pecs and down his abdomen, over the ripples there, then down to the flat of his stomach that plunged beneath the surface of the water.

He stepped back, further away, deeper, until the water covered him to the waist, and stared at her with tormented eyes.

"Ayleth…" he rasped. "I'm so sorry…"

Something inside her was shaky. Fragile. She felt incredibly exposed at that moment, but something within her, something ancient, understood that it was worse for him, somehow. That this moment threatened to break a tether he was desperate to keep leashed. And that if she did that to him, if she forced it, she would harm him in some way.

She did not understand why. Only that it was true.

"No, Etan," she said, still covering her chest with her arms. "I'm sorry."

Then, swallowing hard against the fear, she unbuttoned her trousers and pulled off her boots, leaning back to push the sweaty leathers down her legs and pull them off her feet.

Then she was faced with a very unique problem.

She'd been bare to him before—just once. But she'd still been dressed. Now she was ten steps from the water and naked. And he stood, gaping, in bright sunlight.

He was her husband. He would be, she reminded herself. The time would come that she would walk naked before him without shame or concern.

That day was not today.

"Can you… turn around?" she asked.

"Oh! Of course," Etan yelped and turned, the water rippling around him as he moved.

With a deep breath, Ayleth pushed to her feet and, covering herself as best she could, she picked her away across the grass, then the stony little bank into the water.

She took a deep breath when her toes hit the water. It was very chill. But she needed to do this. So she clenched her teeth and continued forward, towards Etan's broad back, rippling in the sunlight, his burnished skin painted in droplets and the pebbling of the shock of cold.

She pushed through the water as it got deeper until she reached just inches behind him. The water was well over her waist. He had his head down, was still not turning so she wouldn't be exposed. And his thought, his care, his strength blazing in front of her—the strength he could use to protect, or to overwhelm, and yet, he never did.

"Oh, Etan," she whispered. She took the final step to close the space between them, pressing herself to his back, wrapping her arms around his waist to splay her fingers on his stomach. His head tipped back as she pulled herself into him her cheek to his spine. "I'm sorry. I told you I wouldn't say yes even if I wanted to. And I did. You did the right thing. I'm sorry."

"I love you, Ayleth."

"I know. I love you, too."

"I want you, Ayleth. So much."

"I know. Me as well."

"This is… necessary. To stand before your father—and Falek—with a clear conscience. Or, as close to one as I can," he said dryly.

She nodded, her head still pressed against him. It was an odd sensation, the warmth of his skin, but the cold of the water, and nothing between them.

"I think… I think I know what to do," she said carefully.

"I hope so," he said. "I'm afraid I'm at something of a loss."

She bit her lip—half-sad, half-amused. Hugging him one more time, she loosened her grip. "Turn around," she whispered.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"I am. Don't worry, Etan, we won't do… that… today. But we will love each other. And we will revel in this peace we've been given. Please, my love," she said, her voice shaking. "Please turn around."