Melody Anne - Scorched

Taking the door from her grip, he held out his hand, indicating she should step through before him, even though it was customary for the king’s wife or future wife to walk behind him. See, he was being very generous to her — even breaking royal protocol.

Sighing, she did as he wanted, fearing a standoff that could take hours. After all, she was just too tired for their battle of wills to continue. As she entered the hallway she’d run through not long before, she looked around, thinking that she could do this. Once alone, bathed, fed and rested, she would come up with a plan of escape. If Adriane really thought she was going to bend to his will, then he had chosen the wrong woman to mess with.

Freedom was just a few hours away. That thought carried her through the seemingly endless halls of his castle.

When entering the room he had prepared for her, she gasped, unable to hide her reaction. Turning to look at his face, she knew she’d given him the reaction he wanted, and she closed her mouth, narrowed her eyes and walked inside.

“Enjoy your room, my beautiful fiancée,” he said before shutting the doors behind her.

Rachel gazed at a room that looked like living quarters for a concubine, with a large maharaja-style four-poster canopy bed in the center, draped elegantly with colorful jewel-toned fabrics, enclosing the mattress for privacy.

Everything in the room screamed sensuality and eroticism, with low lighting, Asian-inspired lanterns and candles smelling of musk, and with pillows and benches strategically placed to make a woman think of sex — sex in many different places and in varying positions. And, of course, there were mirrors, mirrors everywhere. Nothing that lovers did here would likely go unseen or unsavored.

Walking over to a draped table, Rachel grinned at the overflowing bowl of fruit; she picked up a bundle of grapes and ate a couple. From the tastefulness of the décor of the other room she’d been in, Rachel had a pretty good idea that this was Adriane’s idea of a joke.

He wanted to resume their affair, take her back to his bed, so he was sending her a message, loud and clear, that she was now in his harem. Her brow furrowing, she remembered him making a comment about multiple wives.

Like hell she would ever allow that!

Why was she even thinking of that comment? It didn’t matter, as she wasn’t going to sleep with him ever again and she certainly wasn’t going to marry him. Not even if his harem room had done its trick and she was feeling the pressure build in her core.

“You just need to eat, rest and plan. If you can make it through tonight, you are one step closer to escape,” she reminded herself as she walked to the bathroom.

Stepping through the doors, she actually laughed, surprising herself.

Of course, this is my bathing room, she thought, taking in the marble room with a pool-sized bathtub that was level with the floor; steps led down into the water. Steam rose from the filled bath, and the scent of roses drifted to her nose. The room was lit only by the flickering of hundreds of candles.

Though this was what he wanted her to do, she couldn’t resist stripping and walking slowly down the steps, then sinking to her chin in the tub, grateful it wasn’t too hot to bathe safely, without fear of harming her unborn baby.

This was what she’d needed. Pure heaven, she thought as she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax and not think about her predicament.

Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with King Adriane once again. She had no idea how many times she would be thinking this same thought over the next few weeks.

“I’m not comfortable with this, Ari,” Rafe said, and he paused in his pacing. He took off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, then began undoing the buttons on the front of his shirt.

Ari’s stomach fluttered as his beautifully tanned chest became more exposed to view. Oh, how she wished they’d been able to wed that day. She so much wanted to have this man as her husband, know that he would always be hers.

“Are you paying attention?” he asked, agitation clear in his tone.

“Oh, yes, darling…I am,” she purred, her attention mainly on her rising need for him to join her in bed.

She was wearing far too many clothes, and she’d have to remedy that situation sooner rather than later.

Rafe deciphered her tone, and he turned to look fully at her as he opened his shirt, showing his rippling abs.

Her face must have been a mask of passion, of smoldering desire, because his frown evaporated. Rafe licked his lips and began walking toward her, undoing his cuff links and letting the costly gold clatter to the floor to roll off somewhere unknown.

Then his shirt was gone, and Ari could think of nothing better to do than run her fingers along his hard flesh.

Rafe sat on the bed and kicked his shoes off before lying down on his side and snaking out his arms to pull her up against him, his lips brushing over hers before he pulled back, making her whimper her disapproval.

“I’m trying to be serious, woman, and you are making it virtually impossible to have a conversation with your ‘take me now’ expression following me around,” he said, and then kissed her nose.

“Ah, I see. You want to talk?” she asked while her fingernails trailed seductively up and down his naked back, slipping inside the waistband of his pants to squeeze the taut flesh of his buttocks. He had one fine ass.

“I’m forgetting all about the topic of conversation,” he said, leaning in to kiss her again, another soft, light kiss that made her want him desperately, but again he pulled back, fire igniting in his eyes, though his movements were controlled.

“I think a little forgetting is just fine with me,” she said, pushing her hips against his, reveling in the feel of his arousal.

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you were deliberately trying to sidetrack me,” he said with a small chuckle.

“Now, why ever would I do that?” she asked.

“Because you know that I want to find a certain king and hang him by his toes,” Rafe said, bending down and kissing along her jaw, his tongue heating her skin.

“Mmm, forget about Adriane. Think about me,” she whispered, laying her head back to allow better access.

“I can’t believe I agreed to give him a week! How did I let you talk me into that?” he asked, his tone hardening for just a second.

Ari simply moved her hands down further, squeezing his flesh as she rubbed up against him.

“You trust your fiancée. That’s not a bad thing, Rafe. I’ve spoken to Rachel a lot lately, and she isn’t as over Adriane as she wants us all to believe. There’s a spark between them. After their week together three months ago, she hasn’t been the same. Let’s give him another week to rekindle the fire. If she still wants to be rescued at the end of that time, then you have my full approval to go in there with guns blazing.”

“So, now I need your approval?” he asked, quickly spinning them so he had her trapped beneath him. “I don’t think I like the sound of that, Ms. Harlow,” he said menacingly.

“Then what are you going to do about it, Mr. Palazzo?” she teased, twisting beneath him in a feigned attempt at escape.

“I have ways of inflicting my own torture,” he warned her. He stretched her arms above her head, pinning them in place with one hand, and rolled slightly off her so he could trail his other hand down her body.

“Mmm, I think I like this torture,” she murmured, as his hand slid inside her shirt and traveled up her ribs, skimming the side of her breasts.

“Really? You enjoy this?” His fingers moved gingerly back down and made a circle on her stomach, causing her to squirm beneath him.

“No. I don’t enjoy that. I would enjoy it if you finished traveling back upward, though,” she said, her body catching fire as his fingers traced over her skin. Her nipples were pointed, pushing against the restraints of her bra, needing his fingers or mouth to tease them, to give her some relief from the ache that was building up unbearably.

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to obey me, remember?”

“There will be no obeying, Mr. Palazzo,” she warned as she pushed her hips against him, sending her heat to scorching levels.

“Well, then, I don’t think I can relieve this tension building inside you,” he taunted her; his head came down and he kissed her throat, swirling his hot tongue across her flesh.

“The payback will be merciless, Rafe,” she gasped as he pushed his own hips against hers, his solid manhood pressing into her thigh. “I want you pressed against a much hotter place,” she said, her body beginning to shake.

“I don’t know…” he said, then took the top button of her shirt into his teeth and tugged, ripping the white circle off and spitting it out.

“Rafe…” she warned, done with the game. Now, she just wanted sweet relief.

“Yes, Ari?” he asked as he reached her next button and quickly tore it away, opening her shirt so he could see her chest straining toward him.

“Lick my nipple,” she begged, not even caring that she was giving in to him.

The next button came off and then the rest, her shirt parting for him, her chest barely contained in the lacy bra she’d bought just for the push-up effect. It was obviously worth the extravagant price, because his eyes darkened as he gazed down at her.

Without another word, he bent and ran his tongue along the upper edge of the bra, wetting her skin, but still not giving her sensitive peaks the relief they so desperately needed.