Princess's Pregnancy Secret

She and Giorgos didn’t own the palace, they were the guardians for the future of it, and for the people of Palisades. This small island was utterly Damon’s and she had to admit she was a little jealous.

‘You can stay here any time,’ he said.

She sent him a crooked smile, rueful that he’d so clearly read her mind. She didn’t want to think about the future yet. She just wanted to enjoy this freedom, in this moment. Enjoy him, while she had him.

‘Thank you.’ She faced him, determined to take the initiative, despite the mounting burn in her cheeks. ‘So may I sit in the driver’s seat?’

His focus on her sharpened. ‘Meaning?’

Silently she just looked at him. He knew exactly what she meant already.

‘Tell me,’ he said softly—a combination of demand and dare. ‘You can tell me anything.’

His easy invitation summoned that streak of boldness within her, just as it had that very first night. Something in him gave her the courage to claim what she wanted. The courage she got only with him. Only for him.

‘I want to kiss you,’ she muttered huskily and swallowed before continuing. ‘The way you’ve kissed me.’

He stared at her so intently she wondered if he’d turned to stone.

‘I dare you to let me,’ she whispered.

‘Is this what you’ve been thinking about?’

‘All day,’ she admitted with a slow nod.

His smile was as rueful—and as honest—as hers had been only moments earlier. He lifted his hands in a small gesture of surrender. ‘That’s why you drew this?’ He held up a piece of paper.

She winced as she saw what he was holding. ‘I put that in the rubbish.’

‘Which was a shame.’

That he’d seen that drawing was the most embarrassing thing. Because it was him. Half nude. Heat flooded her. Mortifying, blistering heat.

‘Why didn’t you study Fine Arts?’ he asked.

‘It would have been arrogant to assume I had talent.’ She hadn’t been allowed.

‘You do have talent.’

His words lit a different glow in her chest but she laughed it off. ‘You’re just flattered because I gave you abs.’

‘I do have abs.’

‘I don’t usually draw...’ She couldn’t even admit it.

‘Erotic pictures?’ He laughed. ‘What do you usually draw?’

‘Dogs,’ she said tartly.

‘The pictures in Kassie’s ward at the hospital are yours, right? You draw them for the children.’

He’d seen those? ‘They’re just doodles.’ She shrugged it off.

‘You’re talented, Eleni.’

‘You’re very kind.’ She bent her head.

He gripped her arms and made her look at him again. ‘Don’t go “polite princess” on me. Accept the compliment for what it is—honest.’

That fiery heat bloomed in her face again.

‘Do you paint as well?’

‘Sometimes, but mostly pen and ink drawings.’

‘You’re good, Eleni.’

‘You promised me you were good,’ she whispered.

A smile sparked in his eyes but he shook his head. ‘You’re trying to distract me.’

‘Is it working?’

‘You know it is. But why can’t you take the compliment?’

Because it was too intimate. Too real. It meant too much. His opinion of her shouldn’t matter as much as it did. But she didn’t say any of that. She just shrugged.

‘You have a lot to offer the world,’ he said softly.

For a moment it was there again—that flicker of intensity that was different from the pure desire that pulled them together in the first place. This was something deeper. Something impossibly stronger. And she backed away from it.

‘Stop with the flattery or I’ll never leave,’ she joked.

There was a moment of silence and she couldn’t look at him.

‘Where will you have me?’ With those husky words he let her lead them back into that purely sensual tease. The easier, safer option.

‘Here. Now.’

She walked, nudging him backwards. All the way to that comfortable armchair. She pushed his chest and he sat. She remained standing, looking down at him. He’d not had the chance to shave since their flight and the light stubble on his jaw lent him a roguish look. That curl to his lips was both arrogant and charming.

She leaned forward. ‘Damon,’ she breathed as she kissed him.

‘Yes.’ He held very still beneath her ministrations.

‘You’re irresistible.’ She sent him a laughing look.

He chuckled. ‘I’m glad you think so.’ He tensed as she slowly undid his buttons. ‘What a relief.’

‘You don’t seem very relieved.’

‘I’m trying to stay in control.’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘I don’t want to scare you.’

She laughed. ‘You’re no ogre.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ he whispered.

‘Why would I? I want you to lose control. You make me lose control all the time.’

‘Eleni...’

‘It’s only fair,’ she muttered. Not teasing.

‘Fair? You know that’s not how it works.’

A frisson of awareness reverberated through her body. Delight. Desire. Danger. That intensity flickered again. But she moved closer. Took him deeper. Stroked him harder. Doing everything she’d secretly dreamed of doing. She’d show him not fair.

He groaned. ‘Don’t stop.’

Pleased, she kissed him again and then again. His hands swept down her sides, stirring her to the point where she couldn’t concentrate any more. She drew back.

‘Stop touching,’ she growled at him. ‘It’s my turn.’

He half laughed. She squeezed. Hard.

‘Mine,’ she said seriously—and for more than just this ‘turn’.

He met her gaze. The blue of his eyes deepened as that something passed between them. No matter that she tried to dance past it, it kept curling back—entwining around them.

He lifted a hand, threading his fingers through her hair to cup the nape of her neck. ‘Mine.’

His echo was an affirmation, not an argument. He was hers to hold. Hers to have. And yes, she was his too.

For now. Only for now.

She closed her eyes and let herself go—taking exactly what she wanted, touching in the way she’d only dreamed and never before dared. She liked feeling his power beneath her. Liked his vulnerability like this—letting her pleasure him.

‘Eleni.’

She felt his power and restraint and fought to topple it. He curled his hands around the armrests and she heard his breathing roughen. His muscles flexed and she tasted salt as sweat slicked his skin.

‘Eleni.’

She tightened her grip, swirling her tongue, and simply willed for him to feel it the same way she did—that unspeakable bliss. ‘Let me make you feel good.’