A Royal Baby Surprise (The Sherdana 2)

“Semantics.”

“Very well.” He knew that taking her in his arms and swaying with her to soft music would lead to trouble. But he could teach her a Sherdanian country dance. The movements were energetic and the only touching required was hand to hand. “After dinner.”

“So what are we having that smells so delicious?”

“Elena left us lamb stew and salad for dinner.”

Brooke drifted to the stove where a pot simmered on a low flame. “I don’t know how I can be hungry after all we ate for lunch, but suddenly I’m starved.”

Something about the way she said the word made him grind his teeth. She was hungry for food, but the groan in her voice made him hungry for something else entirely. Directing her toward the refrigerator where Elena had put the salad, he spooned the stew into bo

wls and tried not to remember Brooke beneath him in bed, her red hair fanned across his pillow, lips curved in lazy satisfaction.

“Can I help?”

He handed her a bowl and a basket of bread, almost pushing it at her in an effort to keep her at bay.

She walked toward the table. “I love the bread here in Greece. That and the desserts. I could live on them.”

“I hope you like the stew, as well. Elena is an excellent cook.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

Nic’s housekeeper had set the table earlier so there was little left to do but sit down and enjoy the meal. The patch of late-afternoon sunlight on the tile floor had advanced a good three feet by the time they finished eating. Following his example, Brooke had torn pieces of the fresh-baked bread and dipped them into the stew. He’d lost count how many times her tongue came out to catch a crumb on her lip or a spot of gravy at the corner of her mouth.

For dessert Elena had left baklava, a sticky, sweet concoction made of stacked sheets of phyllo dough spread with butter, sugar, nuts and honey. He couldn’t wait to watch Brooke suck the sticky honey from her fingers.

And she didn’t disappoint him.

“What’s so funny?” she demanded, her tongue darting out to clean the corner of her mouth.

Nic banked a groan and sipped his wine. “I’m trying to remember the last time I enjoyed a pan of baklava this much.”

“You haven’t had any.”

He imagined drizzling honey on her skin and following the trail with his tongue. The bees in Greece made thick sweet honey he couldn’t get enough of. Against her skin it would be heaven. The arousal that had taunted him all through the meal now exploded with fierce determination. Nic sat back in his chair all too aware of the tightness in his pants and the need clawing at him.

“You’ve enjoyed it enough for both of us.”

“It was delicious.” Cutting another piece, she held it out. “Sure you don’t want some?”

The question was innocent enough, but the light in her gray-green eyes as she peered at him from beneath her lashes was anything but. Avoiding her gaze, he shook his head.

“As much as I’m enjoying your attempt to seduce me, I’m afraid my intentions toward you haven’t changed.”

“We’ll see.” Resolve replaced flirtation in her eyes. She sat back and assessed him. “I still have two nights and a day to dishonor you.”

Eager to avoid further banter, he cleared the plates from the table and busied himself putting away the remnants of the stew.

“I can hear what you’re thinking,” Brooke murmured, following him to the sink. “You’re thinking it took me five years to wear you down the first time.” She set the pan of baklava on the counter and swept a finger over a patch of honey. “But have you considered that I know a little bit more about what turns you on after all the nights we spent together?”

Out of the corner of his eye Nic watched, his mouth dry, as she stuck her finger into her mouth, closed her eyes in rapt delight and licked off the honey. She was killing him.

“Two nights and a day, Nic.” She said again. “Hours and hours of glorious, delirious pleasure as we explore every inch of each other and get lost in deep slow kisses.”

But he wasn’t free to have the sort of fun Brooke suggested. And one way or another, he intended to make her understand.

“And then what?” he demanded, his voice more curt than he’d intended.