His Hidden Desire (18+)

Chapter 12

Up in his bedchamber, a trio of housemaids were finishing up – stoking the fire, turning down the bed and pouring one last steaming kettle into the long, wooden tub that had not been there before.

Standing in his shadow, Danaë kept her head down as Cenric spoke quietly with the eldest before dismissing them.

When she looked up, the maids were gone, and Cenric was lounging in one of the fireside chairs, watching her.

"Come," he beckoned.

There was a warmth in his eyes, a softness in his stare that left her unable to resist.

Walking over, Danaë paused, standing at his feet.

His lips parted to utter one word: "Kneel."

Remembering the night before, Danaë shivered as she complied.

"Take my boots off."

Glancing down, she took his ankle in her hand and pulled the brown leather covering off of one foot, then the other.

When they lay on the stone floor, he smirked, "Now, my shirt."

One garment after another, the process repeated until he stood, naked, before her.

Looking up, Danaë eyed the engorged rod between his legs warily.

"Are..." she trailed off.

"What, Danaë?" His voice rumbled in the silent chamber.

She licked her lips, "Are you going to make me...?"

His eyes seemed to darken. "In time? Yes, but not right now." Offering his hand, he helped her up, pulling her into his arms.

Caught in his embrace, Danaë felt him tugging at the lacing that held the back of her borrowed dress together.

As his busy fingers loosened her bodice, Cenric observed, "You seemed uneasy at dinner, Princess."

Resting her head against his broad chest, Danaë let him continue his work. "I didn't think you'd noticed."

"I always notice you."

Danaë turned her head to watch him, "You do?"

He nodded, "Ever since we met – if you're in a room, it's only a matter of time before all of my attention is on you."

Cenric began gathering her skirts in his hands as Danaë thought back to that night in darkness – the way he'd seemingly sensed her presence in the gloom...

Pulling the gown up over her head, he tossed it aside, returning to make quick work of her chemise.

As the last scrap of fabric fell from her body, Danaë fought her discomfort with her nakedness and followed as Cenric stepped into the steaming tub.

Letting him guide her down to sit on his lap, the water sloshed dangerously close to the brim as she straddled his outstretched legs.

Reaching over to take a square of linen and a bar of soap from an adjacent table, Cenric asked, "Tell me, why were you uneasy?"

Danaë thought about telling him that one of his trusted knights had leered at her, but decided against it.

Instead, watching as he lathered the washcloth in the water between them, Danaë shrugged, "Nothing."

Then his hand slid up her buttocks and along her spine, pulling her forward to lay against him.

Rubbing the soapy cloth up her back, Cenric brought his lips to her ear, "That wasn't 'nothing', Princess. Tell me."