The Princess in His Bed (11 page)

Adam couldn’t keep his hands off Aimee. He couldn’t stay away from her.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. And for the first time ever, he was having a difficult time reading a woman. Her behavior and actions ranged from downright bizarre to touchingly tender.

She was constantly surprising him.

Since arriving at the palace, there had been a series of unexpected events where Aimee was concerned.

Starting on the very first day when she’d approached him in the gardens, to the following day when he’d found her in his chambers, wanting to be taken. Having her that day had been unbalancing on several scores, not the least of which had occurred as he was driving her into a third orgasm. Shyly she’d tried to urge him to come inside her. It was a stunning request, one no woman had ever made to him before.

The thought of spending himself inside Aimee held immense appeal.

So much so that the temptation grew stronger each time his climax rushed down his cock. But he’d steadfastly refused.

He wouldn’t put her at risk.

He couldn’t miss the sadness in her beautiful eyes when she’d told him there would be no risk involved. That she couldn’t conceive. That after three years of marriage, it was clear the problem was with her because Marc had told her about the two bastards he’d sired in his youth, prior to marrying Aimee.

There had been times Adam was angry with Marc over his cavalier treatment of his wife.

Yet at that moment, he’d never hated Marc more.

There had been no bastards.

He and Marc had been friends since childhood. Marc never withheld a single detail of his sexual exploits. He loved to brag about whom he fucked. And how.

He’d lied to his wife. Because he didn’t want to admit the truth.

After bedding more women than he could count, pouring his prick into every one of them without a single offspring resulting from the unions, it was Marc who’d had the problem.

Not Aimee.

And though Adam had objected to her statement, she didn’t believe him. He was left holding his tongue, unsure whether revealing the extent of her husband’s infidelity would sway her or simply hurt her.

The door to his private apartments was in sight and Adam felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

His meeting with the King had been preempted. A more pressing matter required His Majesty’s attention.

Adam intended to change his attire.

Then look for Aimee.

With his thoughts on an afternoon of decadent diversions, and a smile on his face he couldn’t vanquish if he wanted to, Adam turned the door handle and stepped into his antechamber, closing the door behind him. The sound of rapid footsteps across the carpeted floor in his bedchamber greeted him. It wasn’t loud, but in the dead quiet of his chambers, it grabbed his attention.

Laurent? The older man never moved that quickly.

Adam crossed the room and stopped dead in his tracks at the threshold of his bedchamber. Stunned by the sight that greeted him.

Aimee smiled and instantly set the justacorps she had in her hands down on his bed.

The doors to one of his armoires were opened wide. A pile of clothing had been removed and was presently covering the entire surface of his bed.

“Good afternoon, Adam.” Her tone was cheery.

Frowning, he took in the room, so unaccustomed to seeing his personal space in disarray. “What are you doing?” he asked, baffled.

She approached, her smile still on her face. “Oh that?” She gestured behind her. “I was waiting for your return and . . . well, I was admiring your justacorps. You know how much I adore your clothing.”

He adored women, each one unique, but this compulsion she had with his justacorps was . . . odd.

Aimee’s heart pounded wildly, yet she managed to maintain her smile, belying the extent of her distress.

Oh God. She’d been caught checking his clothing.

It was bad enough having him wake up last eve in the middle of the night to find her ramming her hand into the piles, trying to repeat her actions of the other day that had successfully located the ring.

Now this.

His brow was still furrowed as he glanced at the justacorps strewn on the bed and then at her. Nervous, her smile slipped slightly. Then dissolved. “I’m sorry, Adam. I’ll refold them and put them back for you.” Aimee turned toward the bed, eager to appease him, cursing her bad luck.

“No. I don’t think so.” He walked up to her and caught her hand. “Come with me,” he said and strode out of his apartments with her in tow.

Anxiety tightened her stomach. She couldn’t decipher from his tone or his words if he was angry. Or worse, suspected what she was up to.
No
.
Impossible
.
How could he know?

Because you’ve made so many ridiculous mistakes and have been caught too many times
.

Adam led her out of the outbuildings and across the cobblestone courtyard straight into the palace, his grip on her hand firm. Distressing.

“Where are we going?” She tried keeping her tone light, genial, her pulse beating double time.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Her heart plummeted when she saw they were headed to the State Rooms. Where His Majesty could be found in the afternoons attending to official business.
Heaven help her
. . .

“Perhaps you can give me a hint?”
Please!
Each day she felt more and more corrupt lying to him. Hiding the truth about the ring. Now she was simply terrified. Adam was an intelligent man. Had he indeed learned the truth on his own? Were the King and Renault waiting to see to her arrest? Had they already caught Louise?

She tried to swallow despite the knot in her throat as he marched her down the long corridor, then stopped at one of the State Room doors.

“After you,” he said, then turned the door handle and swung open the door.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

Empty!
Relief flooded through her. Adam gestured toward the long marble table in the middle of the room.

She drew near, noting the number of drawings covering it.

Closing the door, Adam then approached. “What do you think of my machine?”

Slowly, she walked around the table, taking in each drawing. One after another detailed a different angle of an intricate contraption. Stopping before the final drawing, she leaned over and studied it carefully. It was the most elaborate depiction. She’d never seen anything like it.

“Is this your ‘pump’ machine?” she asked, glancing up at him.

A small smile graced his mouth. “It is.”

Aimee dropped her gaze down to the drawings again, marveling at them. “It’s incredible, Adam,” she remarked from the heart, moved that he would want to share these drawings with her.

She looked up and met his gaze.
You are an incredible man.
Aimee swallowed down the words. Holding back soft sentiments, hiding the tender feelings she had for him, was becoming more and more of a challenge. She’d never had a man who shared his interests with her. Who listened so attentively to what she had to say. Or who could melt her at a glance. One look from his dark seductive eyes, one touch, one kiss, and she was lost. In sheer heaven.

Face it, Aimee, you have failed at every turn
.
Failed to aid Louise
.
And failed to guard your heart
. It was as lost as the ring. And Adam de Vey had both.

His smile grew. He moved closer to her. Her heart fluttered at his proximity, his tall sculpted body now beside hers. Touching hers.

Leaning a hand against the table, he placed the other on the small of her back. “Would you like to know how it works?” he asked.

Her nerve endings were already frenzied with delight at his touch. A wonderful warmth curled in her womb. “Yes, I would love to know how it works.” She meant it. She’d had many long profound conversations with him. He had a brilliant, fascinating mind.

He impressed her at every turn, with everything he did, for everything he did he excelled in. His skills in mathematics and science. His mastery in the boudoir. And Adam had accomplished something Marc never had: Adam made her feel as though she mattered.

He pointed at the depiction before her. “These large wheels right here will turn with the current of the river and work these pumps over here, scooping up great volumes of water and sending it flowing toward the reservoirs at Versailles. This machine will be significantly larger and different from the one in use at the Seine now. Part of the problem is that the reservoirs are drying up. With this machine, we’ll draw more water into them, and we’ll have more water to work the fountains. To that end, there will be some modifications made here at Versailles as well.”

She shook her head in awe. “It’s remarkable.”
You’re remarkable
. “Has the King approved the machine?”

Adam slipped an arm around her waist and slid her in front of him. A wave of hot arousal instantly crested over her. The bulge in his breeches pressing against her bottom was difficult to miss.

“He’s considering the cost first,” he murmured and grazed his mouth along her neck up to her ear. Aimee closed her eyes and luxuriated in the sensations he inspired.

She rubbed against his delicious erection, unable to stop herself, loving the soft groan she elicited from him. “Is—Is it large?”

Splaying his hand against her belly, he rolled his hips and stroked the length of his hard cock along the seam of her derrière. Drawing a moan from her. “Is what large?” There was a smile in his tone. He nipped at her earlobe.

She gasped. “The . . . co . . . cost.” Oh God . . . She braced her hands against the table as he swamped her senses with another roll of his hips.

“Substantial . . . It isn’t going to be easily accomplished. In fact, it’s going to be quite”—he jerked his hips forward, snatching her breath—“hard.” His voice had taken on that low sensual quality she’d come to know so well, her body instantly recognizing it as the usual prelude to pleasure. Her sex moistened and ached for him.

“This is the first time I’ve discussed my drawings sporting a stiff cock, Aimee.”

Her bodice suddenly felt too tight. Too hot. She wanted to peel away her clothing, his clothing, desperate for the press of his body against hers, without any barriers in the way. “You mean you’re not this excited speaking to the King?”

He chuckled softly near her ear as he opened the front of her gown. “Hardly. His Majesty doesn’t distract me with his physical appeal.” He slipped his hand inside her chemise, grazing it over her skin. “Are you wet for me, Aimee?” He pinched her pebbled nipple. She shuddered with a whimper.

Her breathing was sharp and quick and the sensations from his every pinch and roll of distended nipple were melting her mind. “You know, for an intelligent man, that’s rather a ridiculous question.”

He released her nipple and slipped his hand out of her undergarment. Stepping away, he pushed his drawings to the end of the long marble table, then stalked up to her, picked her up off her feet, and placed her bottom down on the table. The suddenness of his actions surprised her and inflamed her further, especially when she saw ‘that’ look in his eyes.

The one that said,
I have to have you.

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous at all. I like to hear the words from your mouth, Aimee. Are you wet for me?”

She cupped his cherished face and gave him long deep kisses, her blood rushing white-hot through her veins. He let her softly savor his mouth and she rejoiced in it, burned with it. Each stroke she gave his tongue stoking the fire. Higher and hotter. Willingly letting the flames engulf her, making the slick walls of her sex pulse with desire.

By the time he pulled away, his breathing was faster than before. “Answer me, Aimee.”

“Yes . . . I’m wet for you.”

“Lift up your gown. Show me.”

She cast a glance at the door. They were really going to do this here? “In the State Room? What if the King—”

“The King is busy. I locked the door, and yes, here.
Now
. Lift the gown. Show me how wet you are for me.” The hunger in his voice, in his eyes, was wicked and thrilling.

Grabbing handfuls of her gown, she yanked up the layers until her stocking-clad legs and caleçons were visible.

Adam pulled the ties to her drawers loose. “Spread your legs.”

Holding the volume of fabrics against her belly, she spread her thighs as he requested.

“Show me,” he said.

Aimee grasped the waistband of her drawers, intent on pulling off the caleçons, realizing it was going to be a bit of a struggle with her gown in her arms, if he didn’t assist.

He caught her wrist, halting her actions. “Show me,” he said again.

Her confusion must have shown on her face because he raised her arm and pressed a kiss to her palm, then he lowered her hand and slipped it inside her drawers, sliding her fingers down her slick folds, then slowly back up and over her clit.

She lost her breath.

Adam brought her wet fingers to his mouth. Holding her gaze, he sucked her essence off. The sweetest cream he’d ever tasted. The most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever known.

Aimee’s taste.

Ravenous for more, he scooped up her legs, and placed them on the table, turning her in the process so that her side faced his front. Taking hold of her slender shoulders, he pressed her onto her back. She watched him intently as he slid her caleçons down her legs, her nervous excitement palpable. “I love the way you taste,” he told her. He loved pushing her past her inhibitions. He loved the way she warmed and responded to it.

Dieu
. He just plain loved her. He’d loved her forever.

He was never happier than when he was with her.

Leaning over her hip, he slid his hands beneath her thighs, spread them apart, and took in her pretty pink sex glistening with her juices.