by Kathryn Shay
“Because you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you, Mike. You seemed to have brought out a sarcastic side of me.”
Leaning over, he picked up his glass and drank.
She asked, “Would you like to know more about my background?”
He realized he would, so he nodded.
“My father is king of the sovereign state of Casarina. That means that we’re an independent country—an island, too—and we govern ourselves. Our main industry is vineyards. We export wine. I have six sisters, so yes, there are seven princesses. All of us are in the U.S., but three of us are going back.”
“You’re going back to your country?”
“I came here to work in the NICU because we’re planning to start clinics for sick babies all over Casarina. I’ll oversee the setup.”
“Princesses work?”
“At charitable endeavors like this or teaching in my mother’s schools. Not much else, which was one of the reasons some of us came here.”
All right, he’d accept this. He’d been sarcastic as hell to her, too. “Thanks for telling me now.”
She arched a brow. “Your turn.”
His heart started to thud in his chest. “What do you mean?”
“You said you ‘hate people who demean others just like the kids...’ but you didn’t finish.”
“No.” He got up. She slid close and grasped his hand. “Please, Mike. Sit.”
Several seconds passed before he dropped back down. She didn’t let go of his hand. He surprised her by linking their fingers.
“Nobody else knows how I grew up.”
“So this is about what you told me that day I drove you to the airport?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You’ve never confided in anyone?”
“I don’t trust people that much.”
“Maybe you should unburden yourself. I’m safe. I’m not a girlfriend, or a boss, or a colleague. And I want to know.”
God, she was so pretty, sitting there, a bare shoulder peeking out from the dress, her hair all natural. “What good will it do?”
“Maybe it’ll be cathartic.”
“Getting the story out won’t rid me of the damage done by how I grew up.”
“It might loosen your background’s grip on you.”
Mike sighed. The past did still have a hold on him. “I guess I could try.”
He sank back into the pillows, but kept their hands linked, settling them on his knee. She eased into a comfortable position.
“As I said, I grew up poor. All the kids in the neighborhood were, too. But I was scrawny and always dressed in rags. My parents spent money on booze instead of clothes for us.”
“Us? The sister you mentioned.”
“She was better off than me. She had boyfriends, mostly, who ran with a gang, and they bought her stuff. God knows what she had to do to get it.”
“I’m sorry you were so neglected.”
“Anyway, the kids picked on me about...material things, I guess. At home, my father was always drunk and beat us up. Until Sara’s boyfriend found out and he told Dad he’d kill him if he ever hit her again. So he concentrated on me.
“I was glad when he died. My mother never hurt me, but she never showed any affection either. Then I grew taller, got more muscle and met a gym teacher at school who turned out to be a baseball coach. As soon as I could, I tried out for the high-school team. I got so good, I was recruited right after graduation. I started in the minors, but was in the Show by the time I turned twenty.” He shrugged, and finally looked at her. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “Are you crying?”
She swiped at her cheeks. “Since you said your father beat you and all those other things. They’re horrible.”
“A lot of kids have it rough. That’s why I...”
“Started the camps. For kids like you were.” Evvie moved closer so their knees touched. She cradled his cheek and said, “I misjudged you. I’m so sorry.”
Letting her hand go, he clasped her wrist. Leaned close. Closer, until his lips touched hers.
From there...
Chapter 7
“Unzip me, quick.” Evvie gave the order as she turned her back to Mike.
“Huh?”
“The dress, it needs to be unzipped. Hurry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His voice held humor, maddening under these circumstances.
He kissed her neck before he pulled down the tab, slowly, putting his lips on each part of her body that he bared. The light brush raised goosebumps all over her skin.
Soon, her clothes landed on the coffee table, on the floor, wherever she tossed them. His joined them. Then they fell to the couch blessedly naked.
“Get on top,” he rasped out. “I won’t last long the other way and besides, I don’t wanna crush you.”
The driving need to be with him, to have him inside her, was new to Evvie. So after he fumbled on a condom, she obeyed. When he lay back into pillows, she straddled him and inched up on her knees.
“Wait.” Tugging her down, lifting his head up, he took her nipple in his mouth. She wanted to tell him she was ready, that she was wet for him, but all she could do was throw her head back and groan. Pleasure sparked to her groin making her want to come.
“You can come this way,” he said, moving to the other breast.
“No, with you.”
“Not yet.”
“Yes.” She pushed his head away, inched up higher. Higher, then she grasped onto him and guided him inside her. He was full and heavy and...wonderful. Her moans seemed as if they came from someone else.
He matched them. His hips arched and he thrust. Within seconds, she started to spiral. Soon, long guttural animal like sounds of pleasure escaped him.
Together, they climaxed.
* * *
Mike lost himself in the luscious body sprawled over him. She was slick and sweaty, like him, but smooth, every inch of her. Then she eased up some and whispered in his ear, “I’m not done.”
He chuckled. “Me, either.” Still inside her, he moved lightning fast, sitting up with her on top of him. “This time, I want a full-screen view.”
She smiled broadly. “Same here.” Gazes locked, they moved, he didn’t quite know how, and the pleasure came in long swells that built and built for them both. Once again, they shattered together.
Once again, he held her to him afterward and lay back. The scent of flowers—her shampoo?—filled his head. After a minute, he whispered, “Don’t make me leave.”
Bracing her arms on his chest, she stared him hard in the face. “I won’t. I don’t want you to.” She kissed his pecs. “Mike, you mean something to me or I wouldn’t have made love with you.”
Relief pulsed through him as strong as the sex had. She kissed his breastbone, laid her head down, this time the gesture so tender it almost killed him.
They rested, then she stirred. “Let’s get up. Go to a bed.”
Again he arced up and holding onto her, managed to stand. As she slid to her feet, she chuckled. “Ah, the advantages of being with a top athlete.”
“There are more, sweetheart.”
“Good. Down the hall, at the end.”
With one arm around her, he walked them to her room. Oblivious to the contents of the space surrounding him, he pressed her shoulders so she sat on the mattress. She scrambled to the headboard and pushed down the covers. He climbed into the bed with her and they rested their heads on one pillow. She aligned herself with him and he drew her into a tight embrace. As his eyes closed, his only thought was that he couldn’t believe this was happening.
* * *
She awoke to pleasure so great she thrust her pelvis forward in his hand. The sensations continued, and soon she became conscious enough to remember: she and Mike in her bed. Before she could react, her body took over, and rockets went off inside her. When she came back to earth, she felt him enter her from behind and jolted at the feel of him. He moved and took them both over at the same time.
“Hmm,” she said afterward.
“Hmm,” he repeated.
They slept.
* * *
Mike awoke with a hard-on. The body nestled in his arms was why. He’d slept with Evangelina Gentileschi. He closed his eyes, thanking a God he didn’t really believe in for this time with her. Then he remembered.
You’re a fucking princess....
She had a great comeback. Well, yes, I do fuck sometimes, but I’m very picky.
He’d planned to tell her off, then storm out and never see her again. Who on earth could have predicted they’d end up in bed together, making love? Sure, he’d been attracted to her, but in his mind, she was unattainable.
“Good morning,” she mumbled against his chest.
“Good morning.”
“Do we have to move? I don’t know what time you go to the stadium.”
“We can stay here for a while. You?”
“Day off.”
She inched back. Her hair was a tousled mass on the pillow and her dark eyes smiled at him. She brushed his beard with her knuckles. “Scratchy.”
“Did I scrape you?”
“I have no idea. I was so into...things.”
“For the record, so was I.”
“Should we talk?”
“Yes.” Her hand slid between them and closed over him. “Not yet, though.”
* * *
Evvie came back to reality after the last tender bout of lovemaking. How many times had they had sex in the hours they’d been together? She cuddled into his chest, noticing that it was covered with perfectly placed hair, a shade lighter than on his head. She inhaled the musky scent of him. “Thank you, Mike.”
“You’re very welcome. My pleasure, too.”
She kissed his chin. “No, I meant thank you for confiding in me.” When he said no more, she added, “You remember all that, don’t you?”
“Not until right now. I must have blocked it.”
“Someone knowing about your childhood frightens you?”
“I got scars. Emotional ones.”
“I imagine you do.”
“Can we not talk about this again, Evvie, I—”
Her hand went to his mouth. “Don’t say you’re sorry about telling me. It was good, Mike, so good that you did.”
“I hope you feel that way later when you’ve had time to think about how damaged I am.” His voice was hoarse again.
“I don’t need time. But maybe you should talk to a counselor about that damage?”
“Like a shrink?”
“A trained therapist. I have some names.”
He didn’t respond. Then he brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “I don’t know anybody like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“So open and honest. So forthright.” He blew out a heavy breath. “Let me think about seeing somebody.”
“Okay.” She leaned back. “Breakfast?”
“Yeah. I’m starved.”
They both used the bathroom, then Evvie threw on a light robe. He’d put on his navy boxers and was reaching for his pants. “No, don’t do that. I want to watch you parade around my house in your skivvies.”
He grinned. Holding hands, they headed down the hall to the kitchen. She had quality stuff: stainless steel appliances, granite countertops, cabinets made out of solid oak, a beautiful light wood table and chairs to match. “What can I do?” he asked.
“I’ll make coffee first. Sit and talk to me.”
“I don’t drink coffee.”
She whirled around, her hair flying all over the place. “Seriously?”
“It’s not good for you, babe.”
“Who cares? Oh, I guess a professional athlete would. What do you drink in the morning?” She still sounded horrified.
“Kale.”
“Kale? As in the leafy vegetable that resembles lettuce?”
“Yeah, I make a smoothie.” He reached for the fridge handle.
“Sorry. Just fruit and other veggies in there.”
“Ice water, then. I’ll get it while you make your coffee.”
He was comfortable finding a glass, getting ice from the machine, adding water.
“What do you eat for breakfast?” she asked.
“I can eat anything once.”
“How about fruit, eggs and turkey bacon?”
“Sounds great. I’ll make the eggs.”
With the same athletic grace he did everything, he got the carton out of the fridge and rummaged around in her cupboards for two bowls. He cracked one egg and separated it. Then repeated the process. Coffee ready, she leaned back against the counter sipping from a mug. “You only eat the whites.”
His brows arched. “Yeah. But I can make them regular.”
“No, I’ll have them like you do.”
She put the bacon in a skillet and began cutting the melon. He was at the stove on the island, concentrating. When the preparations were finished and the food served, she picked up silverware. “Let’s take our plates to the sunroom.” She pointed to the French doors off the kitchen.
Beyond it lay a room full of sun and a table and chairs. When they walked out, he saw all-glass walls, two with sets of doors. “Wow, I have a lanai, but I like this better.”
“Casarina’s warm all year round. We eat on the patio every morning. The air conditioning’s on, but I can open the doors for a while.”
“Anything’s fine.”
“So,” he said sitting down with a grin. “I never had breakfast with a princess.”
“Does it bother you?”
He thought a minute. “A little, I guess. Royalty’s intimidating.”
“We’re not.”
“Brie was down to earth. Lexy seems normal.”
She laughed at his description. “We all are, except maybe Papá.”
“And your mother is Mamá? Accented like that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s cute. When did you come to live in America?”
“Just over two years ago. I had to get acclimated, and it took a bit to find the right job.”
“The U.S. must be a strange land to you.”
“Not really. We’re cosmopolitan in many ways. Archaic in a few.”
“How?”
“Papá picked all our husbands-to-be.”
He choked on the water he was sipping. “Sorry.” He wiped where it trickled down his chest. “For you, too?”
“Yes.”
“What would the guy think of this?” He motioned to them both.
“If you’re asking if I’m still betrothed, of course I’m not. None of us are. Papá only forced it on two daughters, and one ended in disaster.”
At his questioning look, she told him Calla’s whole sad story.
“How awful.”
“She’s fine now. Happily married to a man she met in her time abroad, but boy, did Papá cause problems for her.”
“And the other?”
Evvie smiled. “She fell madly in love with the boy Papá picked and married him at seventeen when she was pregnant.” A frown. “He died, though.” She shook her head. “You can still see the sadness in Mari’s eyes.”
“Poor thing.”
“Three of my sisters had already told Papá they weren’t coming back to Casarina after their time here.”
“What about you?”
“I’m returning. But not to get married.” She explained about her clinics.
“Wow.” He tried not to let himself feel anything about that. “When, um, will you go?”
“At the end of the calendar year.”
His eyes shadowed.
She reached across the table for his hand. “I’m here for almost seven more months, Mike. But if the fact that I’m leaving makes you want to stop this right now, I understand.”
“You want to keep seeing me?”
“Of course I do.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Yeah, I wanna keep seeing you
, too.”
* * *
His heart was heavy when Evvie walked him to the door. But he couldn’t pinpoint why. She clasped him around the waist; he did the same with her, and they kissed. Even after a night rolling around in bed, she smelled like roses and lotion. “So,” he found himself asking, “what will you do tonight?”
“Go to a game, of course.”
“Okay.”
She gave him a sham frown. “Are you asking me something, Jagielski?”
In a moment of complete honesty, he said, “I think I’m afraid to.”
Her face got so serious he knew what she’d say. “Oh, Mike.” She kissed his knuckles. “Can you leave a ticket for me at the gate?”
Clearing his throat, he said hoarsely, “At Raiders Stadium?”
“Well, I already have tickets to the Lions game. Yes, silly, at your stadium.”
His heart clutched in his chest. Leaning back against the wood, he closed his eyes.
She moved in. “I didn’t mean to tease. I thought you’d know I’d want to see you play tonight. After what happened between us.”
Opening his eyes, he peered down at her. “Nope.”
“Are you happy about that?”
“Very happy. Will you wait for me after the game? I’ll skip the buffet.”
“Those are sacrosanct.”
“If that means sacred, they are. But not tonight.” He slid his hands to her butt. “Tonight, I need more time with you. A lot more.”
She buried her face in his chest.
“Are you happy?” His chin on her head, he reiterated her question.
“Yes, Mike, I am.”
When he drew back, his eyes narrowed on her. “Don’t wear your Lions’ shirt or ball cap to the game.”
“I won’t.”
“I can leave you a Jagielski shirt.”
“Not ready to go that far yet. But bring a jersey to the game, and I’ll wear it later tonight.” She stood up on tiptoes. “With nothing underneath.”