Chapter 9
“I have no interest in you, Your Highness!” Deborah said.
Deborah struggled, only to realize she was completely trapped–pinned between Damian’s body and the cold, jagged edge of the rock formation behind her.
His tall frame loomed over hers, his weight nearly pressing into her. They were far too close–this had crossed every line.
Her expression turned sharp with anger. “Let go of me! Please, have some decency!”
“And who exactly needs to be decent here?” Damian scoffed. “Wasn’t it you who threw yourself at me?
“You’re Simon’s wife, yet you’ve fallen into my arms more than once. Tell me, Deborah–what exactly was your reason for marrying into the royal family?”
His gaze dropped to her neck. Faint red marks–clear evidence of a man’s touch–stood out against her pale skin. Just seeing them, he could imagine how wild things had gotten the night before, how thoroughly she’d been ravished beneath Simon.
His eyes darkened, filled with something unreadable.
Deborah pushed against his chest, trying to create space between them. But the moment her hands met his body, she froze. He was burning hot- just like Simon had been when he wanted her.
And then Damian leaned in closer. She could feel it–the heat, the tension, the hard press of his body. Her breath hitched. She knew exactly what that meant.
Her wide, tear–bright eyes stared up at him in panic. “What are you doing? Let me go!”
“You tell me,” he said coolly. “You’re the one throwing yourself at me–what do you think I want to do?”
His voice was cold, but his body radiated heat. The tension in him was impossible to ignore. Pressed against her, every shift and tightening of his frame sent a wave of dread through her.
Deborah wasn’t some sheltered girl. She knew exactly what was happening–and what he wanted. This man, the infamous Prince Damian, had desires–and right now, they were all focused on her.
“Your Highness… you’re Simon’s brother!” she gasped, twisting in his hold.
But the more she struggled, the closer he pinned her. Their bodies were flush now, no space between them. She was Simon’s wife. He was his older brother. This–whatever this was–was beyond disgraceful.
“Let go of me!”
Damian didn’t move. Instead, he stared at her, clearly amused by her panic.
“When you were clinging me earlier,” he murmured, “did it occur to you that I’m Simon’s brother?”
He wondered, ‘A woman like her, soft and warm, throwing herself at me like that–what man wouldn’t respond?‘
“I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think you’d stop and I just bumped into you. Please, Your Highness, just let me go. I was wrong, okay?” she asked.
She thought, ‘This is the imperial garden. If anyone saw us like this, there’d be no salvaging my reputation.
“Oh? So you admit it was intentional?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“No!” she shot back, stunned. She thought, ‘Is he deliberately twisting her words? Trying to reason with him feels like arguing with a wall.
“Your Highness, please-” she said.
“Has no one ever told you?” Damian interrupted, his voice suddenly low and dangerous. “I’m not the kind of man who turns away a woman who throws herself into his arms.”
Deborah blinked, thrown by his words. She thought, ‘What is that supposed to mean?‘ She didn’t have to wonder for long.
In one swift motion, he spun her around, forcing her back to his chest. His hand pressed against the small of her back–pinning her in place.
She grabbed the edge of the rock wall for balance, panic surging through her. Before she could even react, she felt a breeze on her legs.
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