The Kalliakis Crown: Talos Claims His Virgin

Facing her, he dropped her hand, took a step back and bowed. ‘You must curtsy,’ he instructed.

Her luscious lips spread into a smile. ‘Certainly, Your Highness.’

He returned the smile and reached for her right hand with his left and held it out to the side. ‘Now, place your other hand on my bicep.’

‘There’s enough of it for me to hold on to,’ she answered, that same smile still playing on her lips, her eyes glimmering with a private message to him—a message he understood and that made his blood pressure rise so high his heart felt in danger of thudding out of his ribs.

To hell with the traditional hold, he thought, placing his right hand on her back and resting his fingers on the bare flesh above the lining of the dress.

She felt exquisite.

Soon they were swirling around the room, the enchantment on her face making all the ridiculous ballroom-dancing lessons he and his brothers had been subjected to in their teenage years worthwhile—something he had never thought would happen.

Amalie felt as if she’d stepped into heaven. She’d never waltzed before but it didn’t matter; Talos guided her around the dance floor with a tenderness and grace that was as unexpected as it was heavenly.

She had never felt so feminine before either, the security of his arms something she would savour and relish.

The original gap between them when they’d started dancing had closed, and suddenly she was very much aware their bodies were pressed together.

Releasing her grip on his bicep, she smoothed her hand up to clasp the nape of his neck, glad a slower waltz was now being played, one that allowed her time to do nothing but gaze up into his eyes. Her legs followed his lead with no thought.

The heels she wore elevated her enough that her breasts pressed against his chest, his abdomen against the base of her stomach, but to her intense frustration she couldn’t feel him anywhere other than on her back, where his hand rested, his heat scorching her skin in the most wonderful way imaginable.

‘Your brothers seem nice,’ she said, frantic to cut through the tension between them before she was forced into something drastic—like dragging him away.

‘They’re good men,’ he agreed, his gaze not dropping from hers.

‘What did you mean earlier, when I asked if they had dates and you said that was the whole purpose of the evening?’

He laughed lightly. ‘It is time for Helios to end his bachelor days. He is hoping that tonight he will meet someone suitable.’

‘Someone suitable? For marriage?’

‘Yes. A woman of royal blood.’

‘That sounds clinical.’

‘He is heir to the throne.’

His fingers were making the same circles on her back that he’d made on her thigh, but this time she could actually feel it. And it felt wonderful.

‘It is traditional for the heir to marry a woman of royal descent.’

‘Is there a reason why he’s looking for a bride now?’ She thought of their absent grandfather, the King, and wondered if there was more to his illness than Talos was letting on.

‘He’s of the right age.’

She felt his muscles ripple as he lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

‘He wants to be young enough to enjoy his children.’

‘If you marry, will it have to be someone of royal descent too?’ As she asked the question a strange clenching gripped her heart.

‘No.’

‘So if you marry it will be for love?’

His lips twisted into a mocking grin. ‘If I marry it will be because someone has placed a gun to my head.’

‘Marriage is a piece of paper. It doesn’t mean anything.’

Love was the state she’d always feared—not a commitment so easily broken it wasn’t worth the paper it was signed on. It was passionate love that made fools of people. A piece of paper could dissolve a marriage into nothing, but a severed heart never fully healed.

‘It means a lot if you’re a member of the Kalliakis royal family. Divorce is forbidden.’

That’s fine, she thought. I don’t want to marry you. All I want is to touch you. Everywhere.

That was why she would be safe from the threat of a severed heart. Her passion for Talos was purely physical. When she returned to Paris her heart wouldn’t feel a thing, would only skip at memories of being with him.

‘Is divorce forbidden for everyone on your island?’

‘Only members of the royal family,’ he murmured.

‘And are you allowed lovers? Before you marry?’ she added, dropping her voice even lower.

His eyes were a blaze of molten lava, his strong nose flaring, his jaw clenched. ‘If I want a lover no decree is going to stop me.’

Nothing and no one could stop this man doing anything he wanted.

The thought should appal her, but it didn’t—not when the thought of allowing him to do whatever he wanted was so strong she dug her nails into his neck to stop her fingers yanking at her dress so she could press her bare skin to him. Her desperation to feel him was matched only by her desperation for him to feel her.

A finger tapped her shoulder. It was the British Prince. ‘May I have the next dance?’

‘No,’ Talos growled, not looking at him, but tightening his hold on her back and his grip on her hand.

‘You can’t blame a chap for trying,’ the Prince said, laughing ruefully before striding off to find another dance partner.

Talos stopped dancing. The clenching of his jaw was even more pronounced. ‘I have an apartment here in the palace.’

She didn’t miss a beat or fake coyness. ‘Is it far?’

‘It’s closer than my villa or your cottage.’

A spark passed between them, so real and powerful she felt it in every atom of her being.

He brought her hand to his lips. ‘Follow me,’ he murmured.

CHAPTER TEN

HER HAND CLASPED tightly in his, Amalie followed Talos’s lead, weaving through the waltzing couples, yearning to run but keeping her pace steady, avoiding eye contact lest anyone wanted to talk.

She could see the door he was leading her to, in the left-hand corner of the great room. The closer they got, the longer his strides became, until they were nodding at the footmen posted there and then slipping out into a corridor she didn’t recognise. Judging by the strong scent of food, she figured they had to be close to the palace kitchens.

They took a left into another long corridor, then another and another. Staff were everywhere, all bowing as they passed.

It wasn’t until they reached a fifth corridor, this one dimly lit, that they were completely alone.

Talos had her pinned to the wall so quickly there was no chance to draw breath.

His hands clasped her cheeks and his mouth crashed onto hers with a passion her starving body responded to immediately. His tongue swept across her lips, forcing them to part, then darted into her mouth, his resulting groan stoking the heat consuming her.

She responded with fire, cradling his head, returning the kiss with all the hunger that burned inside her for him.

No sooner had it started than he broke the kiss, keeping her pinned to the wall with his strength, his thumbs running in swirls over her cheeks, his brown eyes dark with intensity.

‘I have never been closer to ripping a woman’s dress off and taking her in public than I was in that ballroom,’ he said roughly.

A pulse ran through her, deliciously powerful. In answer, she nuzzled into his hand and kissed his palm.

He stepped back, trailing his fingers down her neck to the edge of her dress, his breathing heavy. ‘We’re almost at my apartment.’

They set off again to the end of the corridor, walking at a speed only a tiny rate below a run, until they came to a spiralling marble staircase with a heavy rope barrier across the base of it. Talos moved it swiftly, indicating for her to go up. At the top was a small passage with a door at the end and a small security box by the side. He punched in the code and the door swung open.

Lights came on with the motion and Amalie found herself in an enormous masculine living space, richly furnished with plump charcoal-coloured sofas against a backdrop of muted blues and creams. The room’s walls were covered in huge colourful paintings.

There was no time for looking with depth. Talos threw his jacket, sash and bow tie on the floor and guided her through the living area and into a bedroom dominated by the largest bed she’d ever seen—an enormous sleigh bed with intricate carvings.

On the wall opposite the door stood a floor-length mirror, edged with the same intricately carved wood. Catching sight of her reflection, she came to a stop.

Was that woman staring back at her with the flushed cheeks and wild eyes really her? Amalie? The woman who had formed a cosy life for herself while shying away from everything this man—this gorgeous man—was offering her? The man staring at her with a hunger she had only ever seen in films.

Transfixed, she watched as he stepped behind her, not touching her other than to place his hands on the tops of her arms. A small moan escaped her throat when he dropped a kiss in the arch of her neck.

Swaying lightly, she let her eyes flutter closed and sighed as his fingers swept across her shoulder blades and down her spine to rest at the top her dress.

Bending his head to kiss her ear and brush his lips lightly against her temple, he found and unfastened the hidden hook, then pinched the concealed zipper and slowly pulled it down, all the way to the base of her spine. His hands slid back up the exposed flesh to the top of the dress, then skimmed it assuredly down to her hips, exposing her bare breasts. When he released his hold on it the dress fell in a lazy whoosh to her feet, leaving her naked bar skimpy black knickers and gold shoes.

He wrapped an arm around her middle and held her against him, so she could lift her feet one at a time and step out of the vast amount of material. Talos kicked the dress away, then met her eyes in the reflection of the mirror, a dangerous, lustful glimmer in his stare.

Her chest thrust forward, almost begging for his touch.

The hand holding her so protectively brushed over her stomach and up her side, circling round her breasts to trace along her collarbone and up her neck to the base of her head. Slowly he worked at the elegant knot of her hair until he freed it, gently pulling it down to sprawl across her shoulders.

‘Have you had many lovers, little songbird?’ he asked, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Speech had deserted her; all she was capable of doing was shaking her head.

‘Have you had any lovers?’

The second shake of her head had more force behind it, but inside she reeled.

Was her virginity that obvious?

He must have read the question in her expression. ‘I am an expert at reading between lines,’ he said enigmatically, before twisting her round to face him. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip. ‘Why don’t we even things up and you undress me?’

With hands that trembled, she reached for the top button of his shirt, fumbled with it, then found some dexterity and undid it, then the next. Working quickly, aware of the heaviness of his breathing, she undid them all, then spread the shirt open. Not even conscious of what she was about to do, she pressed her lips to his chest and breathed him in, inhaling the muskiness that evoked thoughts of dark forests and adrenaline-filled danger.

His chest rose and swelled, his hand reaching into her hair and gathering it in his fingers.

Her fingers trailed down the thickening black hair to his abdomen and found the hook fastening his hand-stitched trousers. She swallowed as the palm of her hand felt the heat beneath. She unhooked it, but then her nerve deserted her. Suddenly a burst of sanity crashed through the lustful haze she’d been entranced in.

She’d never touched a man intimately before.

She wanted to touch Talos with a need bordering on desperation, but for the first time her virginity was something she was wholly aware of.

How could she be anything but a disappointment to him? A man as rampantly masculine as Talos would have had scores of lovers, all confident in their bodies and sexuality.

Talos felt Amalie’s hesitation, felt the fear creep through her.

His suspicions about her being a virgin had been right. He would have been more surprised to learn she’d had any lovers.

He didn’t care about her reasons for never having had a lover; cared only that at this moment she was here, with him, and that the crazy chemistry between them could be acted upon. Amalie wasn’t on the hunt for a relationship any more than he was; her comment about marriage only being a piece of paper had concurred with his own thoughts entirely.

But confirmation of her virginity did force him to take a deep breath and try to cool his ardour. All prior thoughts of simply discarding their clothes and falling into bed were gone. He needed to take it slow. He didn’t want to hurt her. By the time he made her his he wanted her so turned on but also relaxed, he could enter her without causing any pain.

Gently he twisted her back to face the mirror, placing an arm around her belly. Her eyes closed and her head rolled back to rest on his shoulder, her breath coming in tiny hitches. He could feel her heartbeat hammering with an identical rhythm to his own.

Moving quickly, he unzipped his trousers with his free hand and worked them off, deliberately keeping his boxers on so the temptation to plunge himself straight into her could be more easily denied.

Done, he pressed himself into the small of her back, felt her tremble, saw her lips part in a silent moan.

‘Open your eyes,’ he commanded quietly into her ear.

They fluttered open and met his gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

His fingers played on the lace of her knickers and then tugged them down, delighting to find the dark silky hair below. He dipped a finger into her heat and groaned when he found her moist and swollen.

Keeping the pressure there light and rhythmical, he splayed his other hand upwards and captured a raised breast. It fitted perfectly into his hand. He could hardly wait to taste it, to taste every part of her but before he could take her into his arms and carry her to his bed her back arched, her groin pressed hard against his finger and she stiffened. He watched in awe at their reflection. Her eyes were tightly closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed. Then she shuddered and became limp in his arms. If she hadn’t been secure against him, he had no doubt she would have fallen to the floor.

He’d never seen or felt anything like it—such a primal, animalistic response. It filled him with something he couldn’t name...could only feel, gripping his chest.

Keeping her pressed tight against him, he turned her enough to lift her into his arms.

There was no resistance; her eyes gazed into his, dazed bewilderment ringing out. When she reached a hand to press a palm to his cheek he swallowed, his heart beating so fast it had become a painful thrum.

He laid her down on the bed and shrugged his open shirt off, discarding it on the floor.

She’d covered her breasts. He took hold of her hands and carefully parted them, exposing her full nakedness to him.

To his eyes, Amalie was perfect—her arms and legs toned and smooth, her skin soft, her breasts high, ripe peaches, begging to be tasted.

Bringing his head down to hers, he captured her lips. She returned his kiss with passion, her tongue sweeping into his mouth, her hot, sweet breath flowing into his senses. Her hands reached for his head and razed through his hair.

As he deepened the kiss he stroked his fingers down her body, exploring the soft skin, delighting in the mews escaping her throat.

Breaking the kiss, he ran his lips down her throat and lower, to her breasts, capturing one in his mouth...

Theos.

For the first time since his teenage years he was on the verge of losing control already. He had never felt so constricted by his boxer shorts, the tight cotton material as tight a barrier as steel.

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