Possessing the Princess

“No one else has picked up on that before. See? I knew you were smarter than most.” His lips lingered at the side of my neck. “The Bratva is Russian. My father is Russian. So I speak that language when I conduct business because I don’t want who I am, what I’ve become—that dark part—to taint my mother’s memory.”

“Oh, Aris.” I rolled my head against his chest then became absolutely still as the implications echoed inside of me. “But you call me princess in Greek.”

“Because you are a very, very good thing.”

Hardly able to swallow, I repositioned myself to sit astride him, the mostly open shirt barely a barrier against his formidable body. He was already hard against my ass, and my nipples formed dark dots that pressed into his chest.

“Will you say something else to me in Greek?” I licked his mouth.

“You can say it yourself, clever woman.” Clasping my bottom, he rolled up against me.

“Please, Aris.”

His voice turned gravelly when he said to me in Greek that I was an oasis in the desert . . . and I kissed him again, softer than the breeze skirting us.

I smiled against his lips then leaned away and walked my fingertips down his broad naked chest.

Vulnerability had me quaking, but I had to ask. “Please tell me about you and Yasmin.”

“Ah. Yas . . .” A grin slashed across his lips.

“Tell me.” I tweaked the short hairs at the back of his neck, and he dropped his head back, baring the thick cords of his throat.

“Tell me,” I said more plaintively, magnetized by his eyes when they landed on mine.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but she’s no more my type than I am hers.”

Huffing, I scooted backward on his lap. “What does that mean?”

He hauled me right back. “She’s a lesbian, Roya.”

“You lied to me!”

“Not really.”

“You deliberately used my jealousy against me.”

“Da.” The unrepentant man smirked. “I loved it.”

“You are merciless.”

Chuckling, he nuzzled his lips against my neck, and I found I couldn’t be annoyed with him. Unbelievably, all I felt was relief that there really was nothing more intimate between him and Yasmin.

I wanted to be with him, naked again.

I wanted to be with him without all of the strict rules of my royal station.

He was a lawless man, exactly what I needed.

Given my father’s choice, I’d be nothing more than a breeding concubine to whatever ancient asshole he bartered me off to.

I’d never dance again.

Life had been cruel to Aris, and he could be cruel in return. However, that brutal worldliness gave him maturity, an edge . . . and that jawline didn’t hurt either.

After tilting my face up to his, he placed a sizzlingly slow kiss on my lips, and I wanted him all over again. He wanted me too. His thick erection butted against my bottom, heated attraction mingling between us.

“Come,” he murmured after one last taste of my lips.

Come.Oh yes, I very much wanted to.

As if reading my most saucy thoughts, he smiled and lifted me from his lap. “Remember? I have something I want to give you.”

“Yes.” That time my gaze darted more pointedly to his cock.

Clearing his throat, he brought my attention back to him, not his more than generous endowment. “Not that, Roya.”

Holding my hand, he took me through the apartment and into the bedroom where low lights now glowed.

He positioned me near the bed then said, “Stay.”

He ranged from the room, and I called out, “You know you do say that an awful lot. I am not one for obeying orders anymore, Aris. And you only have yourself to blame for that.”

His chuckle drifted back.

When he returned, he carried that same inlaid box I’d seen Yasmin deliver earlier.

Placing the ornate chest on the bed, he nodded to me. “Open it.”

I ran my fingers over the glossy top panel before lifting the lid. Inside, four hammered gold cuffs lay on a cushion of dark purple velvet.

“They’re stunning.” Clearly expensive, two of the bracelets were slenderer, the edges rounded.

The other pair were thicker, and each had a complicated clasp mechanism.

“You will wear these.” Aris’s voice came out low and rich, as rich as the gold.

My gaze flicked to him. “Why?”

Again, that serious look fell across his face. “Because I want the Sheikh to know that you prefer my jewelry on your body the next time I let him see you.”