He didn’t know when he’d come to that decision, but he accepted it just as he accepted the fact that she had irrevocably changed his life.
“I’m going to go back to the hotel and talk to Giorgi, who is unemployed and wants to go to England, where women will fawn on him because he’s cute and has a nice accent, too,” she said, striding to the door, her chin tilted up in what he assumed she thought was a noble, martyred manner. Gods, she was delightful. Everything about her called to him, just as if she had been made in that fashion to most perfectly fit his desires. He couldn’t imagine how he’d once thought that he would prefer anyone but his delectable princess, but she was his now, and the sooner she realized that, the happier they’d both be. “I’ll be back as soon as I tell Giorgi that I’ll marry him, and that I’m a tiny bit in love with you, and I want to be with you rather than him. Please tell me you understand.”
“Not in the least,” he said, rising and pulling on his pants. “But I’m not going to let that stop me from marrying you.”
“Gah!” she yelled, and left his room, slamming the door.
He padded barefoot after her, his phone in one hand while he looked up the marriage requirements between a citizen of Greece and a foreigner, glancing up when she slammed his front door, too. He smiled. Could she be any more contrary?
The knock came sooner than he expected. He opened the door, leaning on the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.
She glared at him, her gaze pausing for a long, long time on his bare chest before she cleared her throat. “I forgot my cat.”
“Princess, you forgot a lot more than that.” Before she could spout any more ridiculous reasons why she was going to marry some twit named Giorgi, he pulled her into his arms, and kissed her until he was out of breath. “You are going to marry me, Thyra. No, don’t say it. It won’t ruin our relationship. I don’t particularly care about being married, and neither do you. Thus, since it will protect you, we are the perfect people to be bound together legally.”
“Giorgi—”
“May well want to get married someday, and it wouldn’t be fair to him to have to get divorced first, would it?”
She frowned, her fingers absently stroking his shoulders. He wondered how long he’d be able to last if she kept moving her hips restlessly against his dick. He estimated he had about thirty seconds before he’d have to pick her up, carry her back to his bed, and make love to her until she admitted that his idea was the sensible one.
“What happens if you want to get married someday?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
He gave in to temptation, and sucked her lip into his mouth, swiping his tongue over it before releasing it to say, “Then you will give me a divorce. Likewise if you wish to marry someone else. But until that time, we will be legally married, and I can make as much sweaty bunny love to you as you can stand. Starting right now.”
“But—”
“No buts.” He lifted her in his arms, very much aware of just how well her curved, soft parts felt against him. “I’ll apply for a license in the morning. Now, do you want me to pick up where I was when you suddenly remembered asking me to marry you, or should I start over?”
She looked like she was going to argue, but after he set her down next to the bed and quickly removed her clothing, as well as his own pants, she gave a little sigh and climbed onto the bed before adopting an alluring pose that was all soft curves, and breasts, and legs, and her enticing belly. “Neither. Would you mind going to the main course? I’m kind of no longer in the mood for appetizers. I just want to feel you inside me.”
Her words made him harder than he remembered being in a very long time. “Never let it be said that I did not give a princess exactly what she wanted.” He slid into bed next to her, unable to keep from running his hands along her hips until they reached her breasts, those wonderful, plump breasts that he could have sworn were made to his exact desire. Her mouth was hot and sweet, and he smiled into it when she tried to pull him over onto the temptation that was her body.
“Dmitri!” she said, her frown turning to a slight squint when he carefully removed her glasses and set them on the nightstand.
“Yes, my demanding one?” He nuzzled her behind her ear, one hand sweeping down to slide a finger into her. Despite her insistence that she wanted to forgo any further foreplay, he wanted to make sure she was ready for him.
“What part of ‘I want to feel you inside me’ have you misunderstood? Wait, do you not like to be on top? I don’t mind doing the cowgirl thing for you, although it’s all I ever got to do with ... well, now is not the time to talk about just how controlling Kardom was.”
He was about to take one pert little nipple in his mouth when her words penetrated the passion and desire and nipple-related thoughts that currently filled his brain. “Kardom?” he said, feeling that if he had been a dog who had hackles, they would at that moment be standing on end. “Your bastard cousin who tried to drug you into marrying him? You slept with him?”
“Years ago. Didn’t I tell you?” She made a face, and slid her hands along his chest, making him bite back a groan of pleasure. “I was twenty and incredibly stupid, and I fell for his story. My brother just about had kittens, but since I was old enough—” She stopped, frowning. “Why the hell are we talking about that ass when we could be sweaty bunnying?”
He thought about that a moment, almost admitted that a spike of jealousy had stung him, and decided that he didn’t want her thinking he was a caveman when it came to being able to control his emotions. “It just took me by surprise, but you’re quite right. You have a lot of sweating to do, and I plan on seeing to it that you do it.”
“Oooh,” she said, her eyes misty with passion, sliding her leg up alongside his. “Do you want to be top or bottom?”
“I’m fine with either—”
“Oh good, because I really like to be on the bottom. He who shall not be named never let me, and there’s something about having a man on top that just makes me feel ... mrowr,” she said, pulling him over her again, and this time, he allowed it, his body tight with the desire to just plunge into her. But he was a gentleman, and a thoughtful lover, and he did not simply pounce on a woman, no matter how much his erection was demanding that he do just that.
He dipped his head to kiss her, but she growled into his mouth, actually growled, wrapped her legs around his thighs, and grabbed his hips at the same time she thrust up to meet him.
“Princess,” he said, unable to keep from chuckling when she swore at the resulting nonconnection. “I like that you aren’t shy about letting me know what you want, but there are times when I need a little help. Now, if you would move just one of your arms, I could reach between us—”
“You are the most irritating man I’ve ever started to fall in love with!” she almost shouted, and, reaching down, found him, moaning when she rubbed the tip of him into her intimate parts. “If you have any mercy in your soul, now, Dmitri, now!”
He started to slide into her, had a very unwelcome thought, and burst into laughter when her expression went from the beginnings of bliss to fury. “No, do not say it—I fully intend on proceeding, but first, I feel it only right to ask if you are on a form of birth control?”
“Oh.” The anger faded, and she flexed her hips, taking a little more of him into her depths. Gods, but she was hot. “Yes. There’s nothing to worry about there. I assume you don’t have any—”
“None. I believe we can proceed, then,” he said, grinning when the irritated look was back.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said, writhing beneath him, trying to pull his hips forward. “Stop doing that, Dmitri!”
“Stop what?” he asked, withdrawing the head of his penis.
“Argh! You’re going to kill me if you keep teasing me like that!”
He kissed her soundly, and slid into her a few inches, his eyes almost crossing at the grip her inner muscles had. “I’m on top, Princess. Therefore, I get to be the
one to set the pace—”
She growled again, and tightened her muscles around him. He rose back on his hands, looking down at her for a second, fighting desperately for control, then gave up the battle and slid his arms under her legs, and dove into her, his mind unable to do anything but process the sensations of her body around his, of her scent—a citrus smell that reminded him of a lemon grove on a warm summer’s afternoon—and of her heat. Dear Gods, the heat of her. He wondered idly if she had some sort of a residual fever from the drugging, decided he couldn’t put the thought into actual words to ask her, and concentrated instead on making her as wild for him as he was for her.
It took only three minutes before Thyra, moaning nonstop and dragging her fingernails down his back, arched up beneath him. He was about to tell her he couldn’t last much longer, but she tightened around him even more, pushing him past the point where he could do anything but thrust hard into her repeatedly, his shout of completing mingling with her cry of happiness.
His heart beat wildly in his ears while he kissed her neck, then her lower lip, then her mouth properly, but it wasn’t a lengthy kiss. He simply didn’t have the strength—or breath—to do more than to wordlessly tell her just how wonderful the experience was for him.
“That was—hoo! That was just about the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced,” she said, kissing his neck when he released her legs, unable to pull himself from her welcoming depths. “I mean, I seriously want to thank all your past lovers, because if they helped make you what you are today, they deserve it. Maybe even give them some money. I really wish Beck would see their way to making me the crown princess, because then I could give all your past lovers titles in recognition for their contribution to your abilities.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it—she was just so utterly unique. He managed to gather enough strength to rise up on one elbow, looking down at her flushed face, the sting of sweat on his back telling him just how much she’d lost control. That thought pleased him greatly. “Most women would be jealous of past lovers, you know.”
“I know,” she said, gently biting the tip of his nose. “But I’m not most women, and you certainly aren’t like anyone else I’ve ever met.”
He kissed her again, managed to pull himself from her, and rolled to his side, scooting her over a little before pulling her up close so that her legs tangled with his.
“Did you just move me off the wet spot?” she asked into his collarbone, one of her hands caressing his ribs and chest.
“Yes.”
“That is the most thoughtful thing ever,” she said, stifling a yawn, which just made him yawn, as well. “Do you mind if I spend the night? I assume you don’t, since you had my things brought from the hotel, but I figured it’s better if I checked, first.”
“My intention is for you to stay here as long as you like,” he told the top of her head, nuzzling his face into her glossy hair, breathing deeply of the scent of her, and of their joined bodies. He was mildly surprised by the fact that he didn’t even have a twinge of concern over whether inviting her into his life was best for them both—sometime in the past few days, she’d managed to not only infiltrate his life; she’d made a place for herself in his heart, as well.
Dammit, he’d have to admit to Iakovos that it was all too apparent he was a Papaioannou. He wouldn’t hear the end of that for a long time, but somehow ... he pulled Thyra a little closer, one arm protectively over her. Somehow, nothing seemed to be as important as making Thyra happy.
And keeping her safe. No one was going to touch his princess so long as he had a breath left in his body.
EIGHT
“Ms. Martin? Hello, it’s Thyra Beck.” I bit my lower lip, trying to work out what I was going to say on Harry’s phone, attempting to make the call as fast as possible while yet still being polite. “I was wondering if there’s been any word of ... well, happenings.”
“Your Serene Highness, what a pleasure to hear from you.” The woman’s voice in my ear was genuinely warm, with a slight German accent. “There are no happenings to report, I am sorry to say. The council is still set to meet in seven weeks to make a final decision about the royal family, and nothing more has been said on the subject. Except ...”
I stopped myself in midsigh, hope bursting to life inside me despite the knowledge that the Beck government had been thus far tainted by Kardom’s lies. “Oh? Something good?”
The silence that followed my question said it all. “No, I’m afraid not.” Danielle Martin, one of the twelve ministers who sat on the council to organize the new Beck government, was one of the few people who’d give me any official encouragement, and I clung to her like a lifeline. “Just the opposite. Mr. Kardom has ... well, effectively bought Minister Ross and Minister Bergen.”
My heart fell at her words, the newly born hope dying and shriveling away to nothing. “That means Kardom has a majority of ministers who support him over me,” I said, my throat suddenly painful with unshed tears.
“Yes. It is now seven to three in Mr. Kardom’s favor. But do not lose hope, Princess. We just need a miracle, and I have confidence that you will find one.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to do that—” A thought struck me, one that I almost hated to put into words. “Er ... would my marriage to a successful businessman be considered a miracle?”
Silence once again was the response to my question. “That would depend on the man in question,” Danielle answered slowly. “I do not wish to tell you what to do with your life, but you must be very careful with actions that could be perceived in a way you do not intend. I take it you are going to be married?”
“Yes,” I said, my feelings so tangled I wasn’t sure I could ever unravel them. “To a very successful Greek man named Dmitri.”
“Ah. Successful is good. What line of work is he in, if you do not mind me inquiring?”
“Real estate development,” I said slowly, knowing how it sounded. “But they’re green buildings, and mostly in areas of the world that need housing for underrepresented people. It’s not like he’d use my connection to Beck to buy up land and develop the hell out of it.”
“Just the fact that you recognize that is a possibility concerns me,” she said gently. “Naturally, I know you have no ulterior motives, and I’m equally sure any man you marry will likewise not have plans to exploit your relationship with our government, or your position in society, but unfortunately, Mr. Kardom ...” She let the sentence trail off.
“Kardom would use it as proof that Dmitri and I are up to no good, yes, I know.” I sighed heavily. “Thank you anyway, Ms. Martin.”
“I will let you know if anything else happens,” she said with forced cheerfulness that was awful to hear. “Do not let your spirits get down. We still have seven weeks to convince the other ministers that you are ideal for the job.”
I thanked her and rang off, my stomach knotted with worry until I reminded myself that would do no one any good.
A half hour later I pushed aside the concerns of Beck to focus on the matter at hand.
“Panoush has kind of a thick accent that makes it a wee bit hard to understand him, but he’s a very nice man, and he was set to help me with our prenup, but then Iakovos went all bossy on me and refused to have one.” Harry smiled at me, one hand resting on her belly. “But I’m sure he’ll be a great help for you.”
“I feel awful about this,” I said glumly despite the fact that we were being driven through the busy traffic of Athens by Harry’s own private chauffeur. “I don’t like being beholden to people. It goes against everything my father taught me. He’s probably rolling in his grave over the idea of me accepting help from you when it’s not a matter of life or death, but I just don’t see any other way around it.”
“We’re going to be family,” Harry said, giving me a little nudge with her elbow.
“Still, it’s going to cost a lot for a lawyer, and I was raised to not accept favors because ... well, because of the way peo
ple are—not that you are doing this with an ulterior motive—and it’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime. I will pay you back, though.”
“Bah. I wouldn’t hear of you repaying me for a couple of hours of lawyer time.”
“Our deal was that I let you front the money only if you let me pay you back,” I reminded her. “Mind you, it might be a few weeks. I’ll need a couple of interviews with the Noblesse magazine, but assuming they like the one with Dmitri, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You are not paying me for this. Consider it my wedding gift to you,” she answered.
“This isn’t a real marriage,” I reminded her, rubbing my temple. Dmitri and I had decided to tell his cousin and Harry about the situation, in case they could see a way out of my predicament without having to go to such lengths, but they agreed that a marriage—even a temporary one—would stop Kardom in his tracks.
“A wedding!” Harry had said earlier when we broke the news to them that morning. We’d dropped in to let them know what was going on, which they appreciated, Harry looking particularly pleased. “I’m not big on them, myself, but I’m happy to help you plan.”
“This is not even remotely a wedding situation that requires any sort of plans,” I told her. “They kind of weird me out, to be honest. All those people standing there staring at you while you spout all sorts of personal, private stuff ... ugh. No, since we have to do this, we’re doing it as minimal as possible. Dmitri looked it all up.”
“I applied for a license first thing this morning,” he said, nodding. “It will take three days before it becomes valid.”
“But what about Thyra?” Harry had asked. “Isn’t her license fake?”
“We assume so, since she doesn’t recall any other time that she was drugged and could have been made to sign a license application without being aware of it,” Dmitri answered.
A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3) Page 12