When I was fully seated in her, she wrapped her legs around my waist, and even though she was short and I was tall, we fit in a way I couldn’t explain. It was like we were performing a dance that we’d done with each other hundreds of times, without any sort of hesitation or uncertainty. Our bodies were in sync and knew what the other needed and wanted.
Looking down, I saw tears in her eyes, but she closed them and linked her fingers with mine.
Our bodies worked, but our minds? We had some work to do there as we tried to decipher one another and what this was between us. And what it meant or could mean for our futures.
But not now.
Now, the sounds she was making were making me an aggressive, possessive man on a mission. She was intoxicating, and I wanted more.
And I would have more. Tonight, and other nights too. There was no way I was letting her disappear again.
Needing to kiss her, I turned us until she was on top and the position worked so we could connect. When she scored her nails into my shoulders, I worried I might have hurt her, but she began to move, harder and faster as I kissed her with all the passion inside of me.
The sounds.
God, the sounds of our movements were so fucking erotic. The slap of our bodies connecting, the breaths, the moans. Iliana filled up my every sense.
Gripping her hips, I lifted her up and down on me, powering up into her, our bodies colliding in a violence that shouldn’t have felt so damn good.
“Seb.”
We were both at the precipice, and although I wanted this to last longer, I also wanted to soar with her.
“Please.”
With that word, my balls tightened, and there was no holding the rush of semen back as fire bloomed at the base of my spine and the edges of my vision turned black.
She came first, her body tightening, milking me as I quickly followed, my cum exploding from me so hard I feared I might rip the condom.
Which would suck.
Back in San Diego, I’d already taken stupid risks with her, and I was surprised she hadn’t gotten pregnant when I’d left the condom on too long, taking her a second time without switching it out. I’d never been reckless with protection before, but I’d been reckless then.
And I wanted to be reckless again. Wanted to stay inside her as my cock softened and she clung to my chest. I wanted to fall asleep just like this.
“Chemistry,” she whispered, breathless and airy like she was under the same sort of hazy lust spell as me.
“Yes. It’s unmatched.” I kissed the top of her hair before turning her onto her back, and very reluctantly, sliding out of her. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave. We’re just getting started tonight.”
It was a promise I intended to keep too. Our chemistry was too real, too palpable to ignore and whatever was holding her back from fully opening to me was just a pointless obstacle that I’d have to muscle through, to show her how good this was between us.
After disposing of the condom and taking a much needed piss, I headed back to the bedroom… to find her gone.
Despair I’d never experienced before hit me like a brick. Which was ridiculous and pissed me off. I was acting like some lovesick puppy who’d just been kicked.
Then a small movement at the window caught my attention, and I found her standing there, the sheet wrapped around her body.
Relief flooded through me.
“Hi.”
She took a small step toward me. “Hi.”
I was normally good at reading people, and while Iliana was more complicated than most, I could still tell she was half fascinated, half terrified of me. I was fairly certain it had more to do with my title that had her spooked, but there was nothing I could do about that. I was who I was. She would just have to accept it.
Or not.
That was the thing. She didn’t have to accept anything.
I accepted the constraints my position provided. I accepted of the fishbowl in which I lived.
Being with me would change her life immeasurably. Wealth, sure. I’d be able to buy any woman I was with anything they desired, but I didn’t think money was all that important to Iliana.
She stopped nearly a foot away from me, and the sadness in her eyes caused me concern.
Iliana was so very beautiful. The way her dark hair fell over her shoulder and left her neck deliciously exposed. The woman smelled like sunshine and vanilla, and it drew me in like a magnet, forcing me to take a small step in her direction.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand where I left it, sounding like a bomb going off in the quiet room as it rattled on the table. We both jumped, then laughed, the tension between us broken.
“Do you need to get that?”
I glanced at the clock. It was after two in the morning. No one would dare disturb me in my sleep unless it was important.
Nodding, I picked it up. Growled.
Correction. Only Nate would dare disturb me in the middle of the night. Important or not.
“You do know the throne room has security cameras, right?” he said as an introduction.
I groaned, slapping a hand over my face. I absolutely knew about the cameras and had absolutely forgotten in the moment. “Who saw?”
He laughed. “You mean besides everyone? Everyone.”
I knew he was stretching the truth but even one person was one too much. “Fantastic.”
“Is she with you now?”
“Yes.”
Iliana moved back to the bed, blinking slowly as she laid her head back on the pillow. I watched her shut her eyes, her long lashes fanning across her cheeks.
“You’re an idiot.”
I wasn’t even offended. “I know.”
Nate sighed and surprised me by changing the subject. “Interior Minister wants a meeting with the security council Monday. Can you make it in my place? You don’t have any smile and wave events that day.”
I laughed and headed to the kitchen to pour two glasses of water. Iliana had insisted on only water with dinner, and I thought she might be thirsty now. “Well, since I won’t have to break my wrist smiling and waving, I’ll be there.”
“Do me a favor and take notes and stop dallying with the hired help inside the palace. I’m serious.”
Well, first of all, it wasn’t his concern. And second of all, she wasn’t just hired help, but I understood what he was saying. It didn’t matter what I thought of Iliana. It didn’t matter what even he thought of the girl wrapped in my bedsheet. The world would see her, label her, then give her total hell.
“I’ll be careful.”
He sighed. I hadn’t said that I’d stop seeing her, and I knew he knew the difference.
I hung up and carried the glasses back to the bedroom. “Are…?”
She was asleep, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her fist tucked under her cheek.
Sitting the glasses down on the nightstand, I picked up the remotes and dimmed the lights even further. I’d let her sleep, just for a little while. She wouldn’t want to make a walk of shame through the palace in the morning so I’d wake her in an hour.
When she murmured my name, I stretched out on the bed beside her, turning until I was tucked against her body, listening to her breathing as I took in her scent.
“I’m here,” I said against her hair.
One hour… we could give ourselves that much time, surely.
She stirred, turning toward me, and when she pressed her nose into my chest, I smiled and held her closer against me.
One hour…
***
I woke with a start, the sound of someone retching filling the room. For a moment, I thought I was back in the army barracks and someone was puking their guts out after a long night of drinking.
But no.
I was in my rooms in the palace, the soft sheets a reminder of that. Then I remembered more… Iliana. Shit. I’d fallen asleep, and the morning sun was just beginning to brighten the windows.
Following
the sounds to my bathroom, I stood outside for a moment, trying to decide what I should do. The retching continued, followed by a muffled sob, and I couldn’t just stand there any longer.
“Iliana.”
Without waiting for a reply, I turned the knob, glad to find it unlocked, and pushed open the door to find Iliana kneeling in front of the toilet. She startled when she saw me. “Go away.”
“The hell I will.” I rushed to the sink and ran a clean washcloth under the cool water. Moving beside her, I pressed the cloth to her face then went back for a second to place on the back of her neck.
She looked miserable. Tears streaming down red-streaked cheeks. Puffy eyes.
Since she’d had nothing but water, I considered what she’d had for dinner. She’d eaten her weight worth of seafood. Had she gotten poisoned?
She began to retch again, pressing her hand to her stomach. She said, “Please leave,” just before she began throwing up again.
Instead of leaving, I gathered her hair in my hand, twisting the long lengths out of the way until the spasm waned. Rinsing out the washcloth, I pressed it to her cheeks, wiping away the tears and mucus running from her nose.
Things like this didn’t bother me. I’d been in the military too long to have a weak stomach, but Iliana seemed embarrassed and took the cloth from me.
“What can I do? Shall I call for the royal physician?”
Her eyes widened. They looked even paler than usual contrasted against the bloodshot pink. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“But how can you know? You could have food poisoning. You could become dehydrated. This could be more serious than you suspect.” I pushed back her hair, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Please tell me what I can do.”
“Give me a shovel to bury myself with,” she muttered, the misery in her voice obvious.
I laughed in sympathy. Although it didn’t sound very princely — or dukely — I’d found myself in the same position more times than I wanted to admit.
“No chance,” I said, putting an arm on the countertop to steady myself. “Tell me what I can do to help you.”
She shook her head and sat back on her heels, her chest rising up and down as she attempted to settle herself with deep breaths. A tear rolled down her cheek, and I wasn’t sure if she was upset about something or whether it was caused from being sick. Either way, it pulled at my heart something fierce.
“I’m getting worried here, Iliana,” I said. “You look pale. Please tell me what I can do to help you.”
She blew out a miserable breath and pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes. “Can I please have a glass of water?”
Her voice was so small that I didn’t want to leave her. But I did. I dashed back into the bedroom for the water I’d already poured. Then thought better of it and headed into the kitchen for a can of ginger ale I knew I had in the back of the fridge.
She pressed the cold can to her face before taking a small sip. “Thank you.”
Her color wasn’t better, and there was a sheen of sweat on her forehead. After taking a few more small sips, she leaned back against the wall.
I didn’t want to be pushy, but she didn’t look well. At all.
Stepping back into the bedroom, I picked up my phone and began to scroll through my contacts. She could see me through the doorway and frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Alerting the physician on staff.”
She might not be in the mood to have me dote on her, but her coloring was worrisome, and if there was anything wrong, whoever was on duty would be able to prescribe something so she wouldn’t needlessly suffer.
“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “It’s not necessary.”
My fingers froze over my phone, and I frowned. “I think it’s very necessary. You look really sick, Iliana. I’m worried.”
Her face began to change, morphing from one emotion to the next to the next. Finally, she took a deep breath and met my gaze. “I’m not sick,” she said quietly. “Not like you think I am, anyway.”
I leaned against the doorjamb. “What is it?”
She studied my face for the longest moment. What was she looking for?
“I’m pregnant.”
All the sound in the world disappeared, and for a moment, it felt like I’d been thrust into a vacuum. Then everything came rushing back all at once, and my heartbeat was rampaging through my ears.
Pregnant.
I didn’t even have to ask by who. I knew who. At least who she thought might have fathered the child.
Shit.
“I haven’t been with anyone before you in almost eight months,” she said sadly, her eyes closed. “And nobody since that night in San Diego, either.”
Her words were like little tiny stun guns that left me immobile, scarcely able to breathe.
A thousand questions began to pop into my head, unwarranted but pounding through my brain cells just the same. Was she telling the truth? Was it really mine? What if this was some sort of setup? A mistake? Or had I really passed along my DNA, and cells were splitting and dividing, creating a tiny new human as I stood there, looking at her dumbly?
“Are you sure?”
I’d admit it wasn’t the most brilliant question I ever asked, but I’d also never been in this position before.
“About being pregnant? Or about it being yours?” Her eyes were open now, and instead of the sick and slightly terrified creature that’d been there moments before, there was a resignation to her now, like she was already exhausted from having this twenty-second conversation with me.
“Both?” It was a question. A statement. Hell, I didn’t know what I was trying to say. I didn’t even know which direction was up at this point.
“Yes,” she said, putting her hands over her belly as she struggled to take a deep breath. Was she going to be sick again? “I’m pregnant, and you’re the father. I’m sorry.”
The way she said those last two words just about gutted me, but I still didn’t have complete control over my emotions or my thoughts.
What the hell was I going to do? What would the king say if this got out?
Worse… what would the king say about her? About my child?
How badly would the tabloids tear her apart?
Oh my god. Her security. Their security. The pitifully small life they’d have to lead in order to be safe.
I ran my hands through my hair and looked around, trying to find any sort of anchor point I could hold on to while my mind raced faster than I could keep up.
This was real. She was going to have a baby, and that baby was going to have half of my DNA.
Suddenly, I felt like I might get sick too as a wave of nausea and adrenaline hit me in a rush.
I needed air. I needed to take a big, fucking breath of fresh air.
“Can you please give me a moment?”
Those big green eyes shimmered in the light of the bathroom, but she nodded. “Take all the time you need.”
I turned, needing just a moment to think without being examined. I needed to catch my breath, so I could support her and figure out what we needed to do next.
But as I practically stumbled into the hallway, trying to decide which way to go, I thought I heard her say, “Go ahead. Run away.”
Or maybe that was just my brain speaking.
I didn’t think it was my heart.
But at that point, I wasn’t sure of anything.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Iliana
Oh, yes. The Runaway Duke.
Aptly named, I realized with a snort that would soon turn into an epic crying jag if I didn’t hold my shit together.
The second I realized that Sebastianos had bolted and left me sitting on the floor of his bathroom with a glass of ginger ale, I decided that I wasn’t going to cry.
Not yet, anyway.
No, instead of falling apart right there on his plush bathmat, which was what I really wanted to do, I pushed myself to my feet and headed back into the bedroom
to find my clothes. My head was still swimming, and my stomach threatened to upend again, so I took my time. If I was still here when he got back, I wanted to be dressed. Wrapped in a sheet made me feel vulnerable, and in my current condition I felt vulnerable enough.
His face.
It wasn’t his words so much as his face that had nearly broken my heart. His words made total sense… of course he needed a moment. Of course he needed a breath of fresh air. Who wouldn’t?
I’d needed a breath of fresh air practically every moment since that little white stick revealed its secret, and I’d had days in which to process the news. I wasn’t so naive to think that this practical stranger would jump with joy and envelope me in a huge embrace as he proclaimed his love for me and our child…
But his face.
Pure shock, sure.
Fear, maybe.
Disbelief… absolutely.
What hurt the most, though, was the way I perceived his doubt that the child I carried was his. Or that I’d done this on purpose.
I hadn’t.
We’d both been foolish to reuse that one condom. It was a mutual fuck up of epic proportions. Mutual being the key word.
It took me longer than normal to get dressed, but that was mostly thanks to the fact that Sebastianos had tossed my clothing around like confetti the night before. My bra was behind a chair, my underwear was beneath the bed, and it took me a lot longer than I wanted it to for me to find my right shoe. It’d landed in the hallway. Where was my left one?
I smoothed my hair down, collected my bag, and held my chin high as I moved through his living room and found my shoe just inside the door… the wide open door.
Was that some sort of signal for me to use it? That… stung. A lot.
I could count on my hand the number of times I’d done a veritable walk-of-shame. Twice. And both times, it turned out, was with Sebastianos Xenakis.
“Ironic,” I muttered to myself as I headed into the hallway and reached into my purse to find my phone. I sent a quick message to Jenn. On way home. Need lots of ice cream. Lots.
She was probably still asleep. Hell, she might have ended up hooking up with Nate this time. She might still be in his bed right then.
Happy.
Claiming My Duchess Page 16