Asteria In Love with the Prince by Tanya Korval Page B

that he actually took a step back, which Jagor found hilarious.
    When I finally stood at the table and sipped the wine, the relief was glorious: after the walk through town and then the crush at the bar, merely standing there half-naked in public felt almost tame. Was that deliberate? Was he... training me?
    He questioned me, seriously and deliberately, on what I’d learned about Asterian law. I knew the real learning would come later – when he showed me the ways of Asteria in practice.
    At last, we finished our wine and he declared that it was time for dinner. There was a horrible moment when I thought he intended to take me out to a restaurant like that, but he said that we had work to do back at the hotel, and that he’d need me to translate documents: a working dinner. In his room.
    We walked back, two bodyguards in front of us and two behind. The rain was still pounding and the wind was getting up: we had to angle our umbrellas down in front of us like shields. I longed to hold his hand, to have him slip his arm around my waist, but we walked as formally as any work colleagues would. Normally, it would have been frustrating. With me as worked up as I was, I had to stop myself just grabbing his lapels and pulling him into a kiss.
    Minutes later, we were back at the hotel. He took me straight to his room and told his advisors we weren’t to be disturbed. Trays of salad and cold meats, cheese and fruit were waiting for us, together with a bottle of wine.
    When the door closed, I leaned back against it and blew out a very heartfelt sigh of relief. Jagor stood across the room, smiling one of those smiles.
    “Did you enjoy that?” he wanted to know. I struggled to answer. Because I’d been embarrassed, uncomfortable, terrified...but yes, dammit, I had enjoyed it. I was turned on in a dark, delicious way I wasn’t used to. I nodded.
    “Good. Take off the coat.”
    He’d left the curtains open. Outside, the howling wind and lashing rain had scoured everyone from the beach below, but I was still incredibly exposed: the lights were on, the whole room bathed in a warm, yellow glow. Anyone watching would be able to see everything.
    I slowly unbelted the coat, then popped the buttons, one by one. It gaped gradually open, my body hidden in shadow at first. Then, as I reached the bottom, I shrugged it back over my shoulders and let it fall down my arms.
    His gaze tracked down me, like a caress that warmed my body still further. I could feel it travel over my cold cheek, where a few strands of my hair had been plastered by the rain. Down over my breasts, the corset making me very aware of every breath, every rise and fall of my chest. Down to my panties, which I could feel were damp with my arousal. He smiled, and the way his strong, dark-stubbled jaw moved, the way his lips pressed almost hungrily together, made my heart lift and flutter.
    “I need to teach you,” he told me, “about Asteria.” Suddenly stepping close to me, he plunged a hand into my loose hair and drew my head back, his mouth descending on my lips. I gasped into his kiss, aching for his touch. Just the slightest brush of his body was like a drug, making me want to press myself to him. He broke the kiss abruptly, leaving me wanting more. “Are you ready for that?”
    I was panting, but the memories of our conversation in the limo were still fresh, my anger burning bright. “No, Your Highness.”
    He abruptly cupped my sex, his fingers running over the damp silk, massaging my slickened folds. I cried out, my knees buckling. “Yes you are,” he admonished, and I felt my face flush.
    “Go to the stool,” he told me, nodding across the room. There was a dressing table there, and in front of it a rectangular stool with deep red cushioning. It stood a few feet high, on carved wooden legs. I walked over to it uncertainly.
    “Kneel down across it,” he told me.
    I knelt, the wooden floor hard against my knees. The edge of the stool pushed against the