Helia was embedded in his mind, and she wasn’t going anywhere soon. He had wanted to bow down to her in his office. She had been regal in that chair, and more than that he had been proud of the way she had handled Andreas. He had wanted to kiss her afterwards, and even though he’d managed to hold back, there had been no reprieve.
Buckling her into her seat in the helicopter had been another test he hadn’t felt prepared for. To be so close to her. To touch her and feel every contact like a white-hot shock. That flight had seemed like the longest he had ever taken. Every minute had been spent figuring out a way that he could either avoid Helia on their honeymoon or how he could get a taste of her without getting close. And then she had looked at him. Trapped him in a bubble that silenced the world. Quieted his anxiety.
And now, as if all of that had not been enough for one day, there was the bed.
When she had suggested that they share, Vasili had wondered if there would ever be a point in his life when the universe wouldn’t answer him with cruelty. He didn’t want to sleep with Helia. He didn’t want to let his guard down around her. To be vulnerable. There was no control in sleep. Nothing to stop warm embraces. No shields to stop them gravitating towards each other.
It had been test upon test, and he felt as if he was failing miserably because he simply could not contain this chemistry between them.
He had kissed her once and it had given her some sort of power over him. He couldn’t allow it—which was why he wanted to enforce the boundaries in their marriage. That was the end of it. No matter how badly he wanted a taste, Vasili refused to give in.
‘Go to sleep, Helia.’ He reached over and flicked the light switch.
‘Goodnight, Vasili,’ she replied in a barely-there whisper as the room was plunged into darkness.
If he’d thought the black night would allow them to relax, he couldn’t have been more wrong. With nothing to focus on apart from the weight of each other in the bed, and their audible breaths, he felt the tension between them magnified by the dark until they could focus on nothing but each other.
Vasili’s entire body was alert to the proximity of Helia. He wanted so badly to reach out to her. She was so close. He felt her hand twitch against the sheets, but refused to allow himself to think of what it would be like if she crossed that small expanse between them.
He lay awake for hours, and knew Helia did too. They were keenly aware of each other, and of the mounting current in the air. Desire was like a fog, suspended around them, but neither would reach out. Vasili would not break his word to her or to himself.
There was a scraping against the sheets...a tug he felt.
Clearly Helia felt the same.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THESOUNDOFcrashing water was the first thing Helia heard. Then she felt a warm weight around her body. Slowly, other sounds met the first. Chirping birds. Soft breaths. As Helia was roused, she took in more of her surroundings. She was in bed, with light pouring in from all the open doors and windows. She was lying on her back, and when she looked over she saw Vasili sound asleep. Lying on his side. One arm was under her, the other was over her stomach, holding her close. His leg was wrapped around hers.
She had no idea when they had ended up in this position. She had tried to keep a physical space between them, and had been so tense she hadn’t thought she would fall asleep at all.
But she obviously had.
She turned slightly so she could get a good look at Vasili.
The King.
Her husband.
He was so beautiful. Dark, thick lashes fanned over his cheeks. His slightly curly hair fell in mussed waves. Fleshy pink lips were slightly parted. And then there was his body, which she could feel but couldn’t see, because he held her so close.
She was warm in his embrace. Content. Helia savoured this moment. A memory she would keep tucked away safely.
She had always wondered what it would be like to be held by him. Wondered what his lips might feel like. Even in those days spent in the library, when she had admired him from afar, she would let herself dream that one day he would see her. Would want to caress and kiss her. Now she’d had a taste of him. Knew what kissing him really felt like. And no imagination, no matter how creative, could have compared. Now she had an idea of what it would be like to wake up in his arms every morning, and a very significant part of her wished she could have more.
But she couldn’t.
He would never be doing this if he was awake.
He wouldn’t give that to her.
It was dangerous to think these thoughts. Dangerous for the goals that rested on her being the Queen Vasili needed, and especially dangerous for her heart. Only heartache awaited down that path. Because even though she was happy to be in his arms, it would feel even lonelier soon. When he woke and pulled away she would have to deal with that warmth abandoning her.
All these feelings told her that she was already struggling to separate the emotional from the physical. They had simply needed to sleep, but she was wishing for more.
Being in this bed wasn’t doing her any favours. So, as carefully as she could, she slipped from his embrace and quietly went to the bathroom, where she changed as quickly as she could into a jade bikini, and threw a long beach kimono over it. The pattern reminded her of an antique vase.
She left the chalet and walked barefoot along the slatted wooden path until she stepped onto the beach. The sand was still cool beneath her feet, but she knew that wouldn’t last long. Not with the summer sun that would beat down soon enough.
