A Player for A Princess
“Oh my god!” She laughs more, and I’m getting a little pissed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Does the over-protective daddy thing kick in that fast?” She’s looking up at me with those sexy blue eyes, and I lean down and cover her mouth with mine, sweeping my tongue inside to silence her sass.
“I guess it does, and I don’t give a shit.”
“She’s going to have to date, Cal.”
A frown pulls my lips. “We can discuss it when she’s thirty.”
“Beautiful Belle,” she smiles, cuddling her closer.
“You went with Belle,” I say, remembering the endless names crossed off and added and crossed off her list.
“She was always my favorite princess,” Zee whispers. “She likes to read.”
“She’s smart,” I agree. “For example, that spot right there on your breast? It’s very comfortable. I’ve slept there a few times myself.”
“Belle also has the sexiest prince.”
“Zelda Scott.” My voice is stern.
“MacCallum Lockwood.” Hers is a tease.
“Thirty,” I say, kissing her again as she giggles.
* * *
The arrival of our bundle of joy increased the pressure on Zelda and me to tie the knot. Honestly, I’ve been ready to make her mine since the day I met her more than a year ago.
Finally, once Belle passed the three-month mark, Zee relented to Ava’s constant badgering and my mother’s not so subtle hints about how having a princess out of wedlock is not the Monagasco way…
The queen has no idea the reason we left Monagasco was so we could live as far as possible from my royal baggage. It’s the only reason Zee agreed to marry me in the first place.
God, I love this woman.
Now we’re bracing for the arrival of my family and a weekend of celebration and wedded bliss. Zee’s ready to climb back into her sexy saddle of love, and I’ve been impatiently waiting to have her beautiful body all over me again. Her long curls just grazing her dark, tight nipples…
Sorry. Distracted.
The big day is here. Zelda says it’s bad luck for me to see her before the wedding, so she has spent the last two days with her sister. I only shake my head—we’re so far past such things.
Still, it means Rowan and I have been able to catch up in a way we don’t normally get. We’d spent last night drinking and talking married life. Today, as we’re preparing for the ceremony, he’s more serious.
“I need to discuss something with you,” he says as I stand in front of the mirror, fiddling with the khaki tie Zelda picked out for us to wear.
“Linen wrinkles so fast,” I say looking down at my slacks.
“During the reception, let’s talk.”
I look over my shoulder at him. He’s wearing the same beige linen vest over shirtsleeves as me. But his steel blue eyes are worried.
“Definitely,” I say, giving him a nod.
We head out to the driftwood canopy strewn with white tulle and hibiscus flowers. A local pastor waits in the center, Ro is at my side, and I see Ximena in the front row dotting her eyes and holding our Belle. I give her a wink and she smiles.
The soft sounds of a local steel-drum band indicate it’s time to begin, and my stomach tightens. I haven’t seen my girl in two days, and I can’t imagine what she’s cooked up for me.