Royal Treatment (Royals of Danovar 2)

Anna and Eric froze, staring at each other, his hands still on the center of her need. She throbbed, the echoes of her climax fading. She licked her lips and tried to think straight. “You…” she cleared her throat. “Go…go ahead. You should go.”

He leaned forward to kiss her. “It’s my cousin, Simon. I swore I would be there today or e

lse I would happily stay here with you all day long,” he said, the intensity in his eyes pinning her to the table. Then he leaned back, and she straightened her skirt and re-buttoned her shirt with shaking fingers while he took a few deep breaths, his desire for her evident in the bulge in his pants. She stared at it hungrily. She wanted to feel that weight in her hands. She wanted to see it, wanted it inside her, wanted Eric inside her.

“Go on ahead,” Eric shouted. “Be there in five.”

She smoothed a hand over the front of her skirt, remembering his hand tracing the same path. “More lessons later?” she asked breathily.

He smiled, her hunger echoed in his gaze. “Absolutely,” he said. “I have some things I can’t wait to teach you.”

9

A week later, Eric headed for Anna’s office the second his plane touched down back in Danovar. He’d had to jet off the day after that amazing rugby lesson, headed to France to do some support work for an art charity his family had funded, and now that he was finally back he couldn’t wait another moment to drop by the lab. Strictly to check in for updates since he’d been gone, of course—and never mind that the memos she’d emailed him had covered all the new test results, or that he was conveniently “forgetting” a meeting with three senior Parliament members in order to see her today.

The truth was, he couldn’t get her out of his head. Those noises she’d made when his fingers were buried in her, the way she’d thrown her head back and let herself go, even the way her memos had slowly become more informal as she let down her guard for him; they all felt like victories. It was exhilarating in a way he’d never experienced before. He’d been with plenty of women in his life, but with Anna, everything felt new.

He knocked lightly and opened the door to her lab, then paused and quietly closed it behind him when he saw she was finishing up a video call. The white-haired man was her doctoral advisor, judging from her deference and the familiarity with which they addressed each other. She was knitting while she updated him, a beautifully complex blanket made of cabled squares. Eric shook his head, marveling at her skill. She might’ve thought she was all science, all the time, but she constantly surprised him with her diversity.

She finished the call. “Welcome back,” she said to him over her shoulder.

He put his hands in his pockets and didn’t miss the lingering appreciative look she shot him as he leaned against the door. “Thanks,” he answered. “I’m actually here to get an update too, if you don’t mind repeating yourself.”

“I don’t mind at all. I was hoping you’d stop by. The lab isn’t the same without you.”

He puffed up a little, happy to hear she’d missed him. She finished binding off the last few stitches of her blanket and stuck it in her bag, then pulled a new skein of yarn out and held it up.

“Come sit down while I talk,” she invited. “I was about to start a new blanket, and I could use some help winding this into a ball first.”

He sat as directed. “My ball-winding skills are at your disposal, though I have to warn you I don’t have any.”

“Just hold out your hands for me to loop this skein around,” she instructed.

She updated him on the project as her fingers darted around his hands, deftly rolling the bright blue yarn into a ball. They chatted easily when she ran out of research data to impart, and she told him about Anderson’s newest antics—apparently he’d met Mister Right and had proposed on the third date, and now he was planning for the wedding party to dance a reel up the aisle to some hipster pop song while clothed in period-accurate Victorian dress. Anna had staunchly refused, but then he’d asked her to be one of his attendants, which meant she’d been forced to acquiesce to his demands. Eric laughed long and loud at that one, picturing her trying to dance in the hideous ocean of brown tulle she described.

After a while, the skein started tightening around his hands as the ball in her fingers got bigger. “Who are you making the blankets for?” he asked.

“The babies at the neonatal care unit. I make all of them blankets,” she answered, focused on the yarn.

He blinked. “All of them?”

“Yep. It helps me too, though. Knitting keeps my hands busy so my mind can relax.”

“There are more fun ways to relax,” he said, giving her a suggestive smile.

She blushed faintly but smiled back. “This is fun too,” she argued.

“You have much to learn yet, my dear pupil.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of that,” she said casually, “I’ve decided I’d like to give you head.”

He nearly choked on his inhale. “What?”

“Head. A blow job,” she clarified. “I want to test a theory.”

He shifted in his seat. “A theory?” he managed. The idea of her mouth on him was hot as hell, but he was used to giving, not receiving. Letting her give him head felt more intimate than anything else they’d done together, somehow.

“Yes. I’ve been doing research,” she said. The yarn tightened more around his hands. “And I think it might be a good way to ease me in before we…go further with my lessons.”