Kristos narrowed his eyes. “You’re not going to tell him where we are.”
“Not precisely, no. Though you could be discovered up here easily enough. The country, it is not so large as that.”
“Except no one is looking for us.”
Dimitri stretched his hand, the wine sloshing in his glass but not quite reaching the rim. “All the more reason to have a bodyguard you trust on hand versus the large security detail the king would doubtless insist upon, to protect both you and your beloved mermaid princess.”
He waggled his brows again at Emmaline, and she laughed, the sound winging through Kristos. “Well, I thank you most kindly,” she said, bowing solemnly at Dimitri before turning to Kristos. Her eyes asked the question that she didn’t want to speak aloud, he knew. Should she stay or go? Propriety dictated that he send her to her room, allow her to rest. Propriety dictated that he spend time with his brother’s good friend and his own teammate and catch up on the business of the GNSF, since Dimitri was now an officer and Kristos had effectively been removed from duty—or was about to be.
But propriety would keep him from that which he wanted most in this world, on this night, which was to kiss the woman whose touch seemed to electrify him, whose every move drew his eye and set his body humming with need.
He focused his stare on Dimitri. “You know you’re killing me here, right?” he asked in their own language.
Dimitri was no fool. His eyes brightened with understanding and mirth. “It’s what I do best.” He switched to English again. “I plan to do a thorough search of the grounds, since I have our new gear to test anyway.”
That caught Kristos’s attention. Updated models of GNSF vision gear had been requisitioned months ago. Of course, it would finally come in right as he was taken out of active duty. Still, he nodded, content with his end of this night’s bargain. “Let me know what you learn.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” Dimitri managed to say the words without a trace of sarcasm, but Kristos narrowed his eyes anyway. It would take some time to get used to hearing that honorific from his fellow soldiers. Maybe the rest of his life. But Dimitri didn’t seem to notice his uneasiness. He gave Emmaline another short bow, also perfectly respectable, then turned before she became nervous enough to bow back. He strode out the front door, whistling like a man who knew a secret.
“Have you been friends long?” Emmaline asked, looking after him. Her relaxed manner had him glancing at her sharply. She lifted a hand to her mouth to smother a yawn.
You’ve got to be joking. Of course she had every reason to be exhausted, but Kristos hadn’t expected fatigue to catch up with her so quickly. He’d missed his window of opportunity. Maybe Dimitri had already figured out the same thing and that was the reason for his good mood. Ass.
“Yes,” he said, not willing to ruin the moment further by mentioning that it was Ari and Dimitri who had been friends first. “He’s trustworthy, though his timing could be improved.” He nodded to Emmaline, forcing the regret and disappointment out of his voice. “You should get some sleep. I’ll check in with the media and see if we’re having our first child tomorrow or anything.”
The relief that jumped in her eyes confirmed his suspicion that there was more going on here than simple exhaustion. So did the speed with which she turned toward the stairs. Before Dimitri had interrupted them, she had seemed more than happy to throw caution to the wind. Now, her mind was whispering for her to be careful, and he had only himself to blame. He’d let those embers grow cool.
She was allowed to be nervous, of course. They’d known each other for barely twelve hours. But still.
He sighed and headed for Theo’s office. At least the night would not be a total waste.
Chapter 9
What a total waste of a night, Em thought bitterly as she climbed the stairs. Would Princess Emmaline Aurora Grace have chosen that moment to yawn, completely turning off the first guy who’d been interested in her in forever? No. No, she most certainly would not. Especially when the good princess hadn’t had sex in over two years.
Dammit.
Em stomped onto the second floor landing. She couldn’t deny that she’d felt a momentary surge of relief when Kristos had given her the out—at least before embarrassment at her own relief had flooded through her. It had been a long time. What if she somehow did the wrong thing? Heck, what if they had weird sex traditions in Garronia that she knew nothing about?
She giggled a little, despite her irritation. The floors above this one seemed deserted. Where did all the staff live? Surely not above them. Maybe not in the main house at all, but in some sort of secondary building on the estate. They’d want their own privacy, though given how opulent this place was down to the ornate door handles, she had no doubt that their living quarters were far more extravagant than the simple ranch home she shared with her parents back in Missouri.
Her parents. For the first time since she’d left on her European vacation, Em thought of them without a lurch of anxiety. Instead, the only thing making her nervous was apparently Prince Hottie Adonis Guy. In front of whom she’d just yawned.
Turning down the corridor, Em saw the twin doors near the end of the hallway, one marking hers, the other Kristos’s. Though she’d gratefully showered earlier today, she didn’t think he’d even been to his room yet, and curiosity thrummed through her. Was it a mirror image of her own? Or had he given her the better room out of some misplaced chivalry?
Or, even more intriguingly, was his room some sort of palatial bedchamber fit for, well, a prince?
Em’s eyes widened as she regarded the closed door. Kristos had seemed pretty determined to go to Theo’s guest office, and she suspected he, like most men, would get wrapped up pretty quickly in streaming video and Internet. So she would have time, definitely, to take a little peek.
Another thought struck her. Does Kristos have a girlfriend he needs to contact? Surely not. He would never have kissed her, not once but three times, swept her off on a motorcycle, and dropped her in the center of a hidden villa if he’d had a girlfriend. And yet, how could he not? Even among the other Garronois soldiers she’d seen, most of whom were impossibly hotter than the guys back home, he looked like a supermodel. Tall, dark, lean, and dangerous. And those golden eyes…
Em chewed her lip, pausing in front of her door before looking back over her shoulder. What would it harm to take a look?
She stepped across the hall and turned the handle on Kristos’s door. It moved easily in her hand, and she pushed the door open, grateful that moonlight poured in through the open windows, blanketing the room with a soft glow. His room was similar to hers—same tile floors, same enormous, plush bed, same en suite bathroom. It didn’t feel like he’d been there yet, as she’d suspected. The drawers were untouched, the bathroom door was standing open at a precise angle. The whole place had that staged look that hers had also had when she’d entered it earlier that day.
The bed, of course, was untouched.
She considered it now, draped in its pool of moonlight, its coverlet light enough that the soft breeze sent it rippling, almost inviting her to climb up onto its high, plush pillows. Now that her vision was becoming accustomed to the gloom, she peered toward the window and crossed the cool tiles to push aside the light curtains.
It was all so beautiful. The view was almost identical to hers, though her room looked over the gardens and pool while his showed a more unremitting view of forest—and maybe a gleam of a lake or something in the distance?
She focused on that far glimmer of light, leaning against the window frame as she let her mind wander, the events of the day finally catching up to her. When she’d woken up this morning, she’d expected her day would have little more excitement than nursing Lauren back to health after her run-in with the tsipouro. Now here she was on the other end of the country, hiding out from the paparazzi with, well, a prince.
She allowed herself a long sigh. Princess Emmaline Aurora Grace gazed out over he
r vast and beautiful kingdom, the enchanted realm of Garronia, and thought about the pressing news of the day. There would be a royal wedding soon, everyone said, and the idea should gladden her heart, lift her spirits and—
“I’m pretty sure this is my room.”
The words would have shot her straight out over the window pane, except firm hands were suddenly on her hips, anchoring her in place as a very large, very masculine body fitted itself up against hers. Kristos’s heady, spicy scent swirled around her as he bent to nuzzle her neck, drawing his mouth up against Em’s ear in a move that practically made her eyes cross. “You want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
Em tried to struggle out of his embrace, but he slipped his hands around her further, drawing his fingers along the silky material of her dress, moving up, up, until he captured her breasts in his palms. Her knees seemed to give up the will to live at that point, and she sagged against him, managing little more than a gasp.
“That’s a promising beginning,” Kristos murmured, then bent deeper to kiss her shoulder, his fingers beginning to knead her breasts in a sensual rhythm. “I might need you to be a little more specific, though.”
She turned, not even remotely trying to escape, and as if he realized that, Kristos let her move, his mouth claiming hers as she lifted her face toward him. Apparently, that was all the additional information he required. He pulled her almost roughly against him, heat and desire evident in every line of his body. Em pressed back, her hands lifting to his beautiful face as he kissed her, unable to believe that she was here, that they were here, and that this—
Kristos didn’t let her get her bearings any further. He walked her backward across the tiled floor, kissing her brows, her cheeks, her lips, her chin, as if he couldn’t get enough of a taste of her without roaming over her skin. His left hand stretched around her, cupping her backside, and heat pooled inside Em’s belly with urgent force, her heart rate jumping, her brain unable to focus on any one sensation except the backs of her legs hitting the bed.
“This would be a very good time for you to suggest that we stop, koukla mou,” Kristos rasped as he lifted his head from hers, his eyes looking slightly dazed. “If you do, I swear I will let you go and not continue—”
“I don’t want you to stop,” Em blurted, shocked at the need in her own voice. She had no idea if that answer startled Kristos, but he responded with a growl of his own, lifting her and settling her back on the bed, laying her out flat while he pressed the entire length of his body over hers, both of them sinking into the plush mattress.
Fire exploded inside her, her urgency so intense it was almost a panic. Kristos moved quickly, his hands shifting down the length of her dress until they found the hem, then pressing the sleek material up her thighs to her waist. He lifted off her just enough to pull the dress farther, whisking it over her outstretched arms and then capturing her wrists in his grip as he stared down at her, drinking in her body with his eyes.
In that moment, even through the haze of her own desire, Em died a thousand deaths under Kristos’s gaze, her overactive brain going completely rogue in a litany of neuroses. Am I too thin? Too flabby? She’d never had a hard body like Nicki’s, or Lauren’s sleek, languid grace. She too often forgot to eat and get out into the daylight, and now her skin was tinged pink from sun exposure despite trying to remember the sunblock at every turn. She squirmed, embarrassment flooding her, and Kristos’s gaze lifted to meet hers. Something almost tender warred with the heat she found there.
“You are beautiful, koukla mou.” He leaned down to kiss her, his lips soft with promise. “But you are still overdressed.”
Kristos fought to keep his own desire checked as he rolled off Emmaline long enough to pull his shirt over his head.
Then her gasp shot through him, burning off his need with a cold jolt of reality. He froze, unable to speak for a moment. Ah, no.
She was clearly shocked at the picture he’d just boldly presented her. Of course she would be shocked. Probably even horrified. Why had he not warned her? How could he have forgotten?
“My God, Kristos.” Emmaline had scrambled off the bed, and he felt her cool hands on his back, where the worst of the scarring caught the moonlight. But her voice didn’t hold the revulsion or even the fear he’d heard in so many women’s voices. It didn’t hold the prurient excitement he’d heard either, or the weird fascination at so much damage on skin that had been expected to be perfect. “How could you have stood so much pain?”
His voice was still stuck in his throat as she turned him around to see his chest, her breath catching again as she pressed her hand to his right abdomen. The scars here were neater, but there were more of them. She placed her hands over them like a benediction, leaning forward to sear his chest with the brush of her lips. “How long ago?”
“Two years.” His words were spoken in a strange rasp, and he closed his eyes against the rush of emotion he never expected to stop feeling. He could still see the images vividly, the battle that had taken too many of his own men. The orders he had approved when he should have withdrawn. They’d held their position in the blazing hot trench, sand and smoke clogging the air, but the price had been high. Too high. He’d learned more in that one afternoon than in ten years of training drills. Learned enough to know the cost of guessing wrong. Learned enough to know he would spend the rest of his life at war, honoring the lives of those who had trusted him even to their deaths.
Now he turned his gaze down to Emmaline, catching up her hands against his chest. “I should have warned you,” he gritted out. “I didn’t mean to shock you.”
Her gaze met his, but he couldn’t read the emotion in her eyes. She lifted one brow. “These are nothing. You haven’t seen the nasty scrape on my ankle from my new sandals. I’m pretty sure you’ll faint.”
Before he could respond, she leaned up and touched her lips to his, silencing any further apology. “But I think I need to see the rest of you naked now,” she murmured, and her hands were at his trousers, unhooking them and sliding them down his legs. She sank down along with them, her mouth trailing over the long, brutal slash that marred his right thigh, the thick ridge of scarring on his calf. “You don’t do such a good job of staying out of trouble, do you?” She rocked back on her heels, looking up at him. Now her eyes did speak with clear emotion. There was understanding there. And certainty. “And I do get it. There are some things you can’t give up. Not even to be prince.”
“No.” Something raw shifted in Kristos. He reached for her, pulling her up against him even as he stepped out of his trousers. He laid her back on the bed, following her down into its softness. This was something else he didn’t plan on giving up either. Not anytime soon. Emmaline was so impossibly perfect, so delicate beneath his hands that he thought he might break her, but he knew better in the short time he’d had her in his arms. Her fire seemed to emanate from a place deep within her, a fire completely at odds with her sweet nature and gentle temperament.
A fire he wanted to watch burn a little higher, a little stronger.
He reached down and unhooked Emmaline’s bra, watching the flare of heat that wasn’t entirely desire flush her cheeks. After all she’d seen of him, how could she be embarrassed? Her small, soft body was absolutely flawless, her breasts fitting into his hands as he covered her mouth again, kissing her so she didn’t see him closing his eyes as he reveled in the pure physical sensation of her skin against his. Her legs fell apart as he shifted, her lips softening on a groan, and he could feel her body react to the press of him into the vee of her thighs. Despite the fact that he was still wearing his boxer briefs, there was no chance she could miss that he was as hard as a pole. That more than anything should tell her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about.
Just then, he felt her cool fingers on the waist of his boxers, and sucked in a deep breath as she snagged edge, pulling them partway down. “Emmaline,” he warned raggedly, though what he was warning her about, he couldn’t say. Whe
n her fingers brushed against his shaft, he shuddered, dropping to his side on the overstuffed bed.
Her cheeks were still flushed red, and he frowned. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”
“Oh, God, no. Not even remotely.” Still, she pressed her lips together as if to keep herself from saying anything more. When he simply watched her, however, letting the moment play out, it was as if the need to speak grew unbearable for her, as if silence in this moment was simply not something she could endure. “Sorry—I… Sorry.” She flopped her other hand helplessly. “This is so stupid. I’m not a virgin or anything, but—”
His brows shot up. Of all the things she could have said, that was not one he expected. But really, what did he know of her? “There would be no shame in that.”
“No. Really, I’m not. It’s just that it’s, um—it’s been a while. And I don’t know why I’m so freaking awkward.”
Kristos blinked at her, unable to stop the laugh from rumbling in his chest, even knowing that it drove the flames of embarrassment higher in her cheeks. “Then I’ll have to do my best to put you at ease.”
Without hesitating, he leaned forward and kissed her mouth. Softly, sensually. Her lips parted beneath his, and she sighed against him, relaxing a little bit. He fought down the surge of triumph. Emmaline Andrews wasn’t a conquest to be won. She was a puzzle to be opened, bit by subtle bit. Starting now.
He dropped down her neck, nuzzling the hollow of her collarbone, relishing the way Emmaline’s deep, ragged sigh seemed ripped out of her, one of her hands on his shoulder, the other fisted in the soft sheets. She whimpered but didn’t tense when he moved over the gentle curve of her breast, taking it into his mouth and drifting his tongue over it once, twice. The force of her beating heart sounded thunderously loud in his ears, and her heat rose around him, her breath catching sharply as his left hand closed around her right breast, rolling the nipple gently between his fingers.
Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1 Page 10