Courted: Gowns & Crowns, Book 1

by Jennifer Chance

  He lifted his head to look at her again. She was no longer watching him with wide-eyed anxiety. Instead, her lids had dropped to half-mast, and her mouth was slightly open. “Better?” he asked, and she managed a smile, one that faltered as he shifted his body farther down hers.

  Once again, the embarrassment flared in Emmaline’s cheeks, but Kristos didn’t give her time to process his actions. He dipped down to nuzzle her softly curved belly, edging over her smooth skin. Everywhere he touched seemed supersensitized, and he forestalled a chuckle as she jumped when he pressed his lips hard against her hipbone. The top edge of her panties lay perilously close to his mouth, and Emmaline’s breathing had gone shallow.

  Good. Her response fired through him, and he drew his tongue along that silken edge. She shifted beneath him, but she didn’t ask him to stop. Didn’t drop her hand on his shoulder or his head. Still, when he replaced his mouth with his fingers, she almost visibly relaxed beneath his body, her head falling back and her muscles loosening.

  He trailed his fingers lightly along, not tugging, not pulling, but stroking down to where the material was already damp. He kissed the top of Emmaline’s thigh, pressing his fingers against her heat, and her half sigh turned into a moan, her body angling back, her thighs moving as if she was desperate to sink into the moment and no longer think, no longer process.

  He heartily approved of that idea.

  “Kristos,” she murmured, the words almost a groan. “I want you inside me.”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice. He slipped off her panties with a quick, decisive movement, rolling atop her to cover her nakedness. She sighed beneath the weight of his body, her body shifting naturally to accommodate him, to take him in. But he couldn’t do that—not yet anyway.

  “A moment, koukla mou,” he growled, moving up her body and away until he could fumble at the bedside table, where he’d tossed his pants. Beside and beneath him, Emmaline leaned forward, and Kristos’s jaw tightened as her lips touched the head of his shaft. Years of military training was the only thing that kept him locked in place as she tentatively pressed her lips against him, taking him into her mouth. When she practically purred, her shoulders dropping, he knew this, at least, was not something she was nervous about. A fact that was not helping him maintain his control, frankly. He snagged the condom, tearing the package open as he edged his shaft from her mouth.

  She blinked up at him, clearly expecting him to let her play for a while longer. But he was too close for that, barely holding it together as he sheathed himself. Then he reached for her, the desire to bury himself inside her suddenly stronger than he would have thought possible. “Now where were we?” he murmured. “Still feeling awkward?”

  Her answering laugh as she stretched beneath him all the response he needed. Tonight was for exploration of the simplest kind.

  There would be time to play later.

  He’d make sure of it.

  Chapter 10

  Em felt the clash of excitement and desire as Kristos’s weight sank again onto her body. Her nerves had settled down at last, and as she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the sinewy muscles that corded his back and dipped down to his narrow waist, she finally, fully relaxed.

  He clearly realized that as well. He nudged against her, and she looked up to meet his gaze. “Don’t look so worried. I’m fine, ah…”

  “Worry is no longer my chief concern, koukla mou.”

  Then he was easing into her, inch by careful inch, as she shifted beneath him, her body adjusting naturally to take him more deeply. It felt impossibly tight and impossibly amazing at the same time.

  Lord, she’d forgotten exactly how good this felt. Not just the pressure of Kristos’s shaft swelling inside her, but the entire tactile experience of their bodies tangled together. The weight of his legs on hers, his arms caging her body, biceps flexed, forearms braced. The intensity of a face wrapped in tight concentration, eyes tracking her every expression, her every sigh. Her hands flattened on Kristos’s skin, and she felt his warmth and vitality filling her up—and realized for the first time in she didn’t remember how long that Dammit, I really like sex.

  Kristos quirked a smile. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Em’s eyes refocused. She hadn’t realized she was speaking out loud, but she didn’t have time to explain as Kristos leaned down and reclaimed her mouth, kissing her deeply as she drank him in. With each thrust, he seemed to be shattering through the months and even years of solitude that had built up a barrier between herself and her emotions, her sensations, and—

  “Ohhh, that’s really good,” she whispered.

  “Please, you need to stop sounding so surprised.”

  “Mmm.” Em lifted her legs and wrapped her ankles around Kristos’s hips, the action causing him to hiss.

  “Emmaline,” he gritted out, but she felt a new pressure, an unexpected sensation against her body where Kristos’s body connected with hers. She didn’t know if it was his position, braced as he was above her, the way he was shaped, how he was moving—she didn’t know, but it had the effect of a flint strike. Her eyes popped wide, and she locked her feet together more tightly, her breath hitching in her throat.

  Kristos may have asked her a question. She didn’t know. She couldn’t think. She sank more deeply into the sensations he was creating inside her and allowed them to take over her whole being, knowing her face was relaxing, her back curving, her breathing deeper, fuller, as she sought to meet Kristos stroke for stroke. Her hands now gripped his upper arms, her nails digging into him as she reached up further. She was close, so close! So impossibly, unbelievably close and—

  She gasped harshly, the sound a virtual cry as she felt the orgasm rip through her more strongly than any release she’d ever had before—it happened so fast! So differently! She bucked up against Kristos, her body riding the tide of pleasure, and then he shattered too, his body going rigid as his own cry burst from his mouth. He surged forward, grabbing Em up in his arms and rolling with her on the bed until they were a tangle of sheets and limbs, and suddenly she was falling—off him, off the bed, and he lurched for her, barely in time to break her fall as she slid down a mountain of pillows and covers and smacked hard onto the cold tile floor.

  “Ouch.”

  Kristos lifted his head then, the moonlight catching his face, his eyes, his wide and triumphant smile. He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her thoroughly once more, then bounded out of the bed, moving across the tiles in long strides toward the bathroom. As she heard the water splashing in the sink, Em dragged herself up to her feet, wrapping herself in the rich cotton sheets and half crawling, half tumbling back onto the bed. She was suddenly and quite unexpectedly…exhausted. Stretching luxuriously in the bed, she listened to the running water. Her gaze caught the curtains fluttering in the breeze, and she heard the sounds of nighttime beyond the window pane. She felt the lull of sleep calling her as the bed dipped and the presence of warm, vital man surrounded her once more.

  “I have already worn you out.” Even Kristos’s voice was soothing, nudging her toward dreamland as he fit himself against her body, his long fingers smoothing the hair out of her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Em managed, and his laughter rumbled over her.

  “Do not apologize to me because I am too much man for you to handle. It happens.”

  And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Em drifted off to sleep with the sound of her own laughter in her ears.

  Kristos stared down at Emmaline, more content than he knew he had any right to be. He was used to sleeping whenever he could. But tonight, he was far happier to watch this beautiful and ridiculously neurotic woman relax into the bliss of slumber, her brow no longer furrowed in its slight frown, her eyes no longer watchful or concerned.

  She really was lovely, though not in a way he would typically have noticed beyond a second or third glance. Without the flush of embarrassment darkening her cheeks, she looked almost like one of the
porcelain figurines his mother kept bringing back from her travels, with pale cheeks and shoulder-length dark hair, her lashes a dusky fringe against her skin. He couldn’t see her soft brown eyes now, but he’d already lost himself in them enough to never forget them. A musician who had set aside her music to care for her parents, completely willing and ready to sacrifice for the greater good of her family.

  His lips twisted. If he didn’t know better, he would think his mother had somehow maneuvered their run-in deliberately, to give Kristos a taste of how a child should properly embrace his or her filial duty.

  But Emmaline hadn’t completely defected to the good side. He leaned down and dropped a kiss on her shoulder, the pressure of his mouth teasing a smile from her lips that he was certain she didn’t think he was observing. Much as he knew that she’d had no idea that he’d tuned in to the video screens downstairs not only to get the tide of the day’s news and to fire up his own e-mail, but to survey the grounds as well.

  He’d watched Dimitri weave in and out of the shadows for only a moment before the movement in the upper-floor hallway had caught his gaze. He’d watched, transfixed, as Emmaline had paused before her own room, then had looked curiously toward his. She’d seemed to have an argument with herself, and then, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she’d stepped to his door and ventured inside his room, not even closing the door fully behind her. It was how he’d been able to sneak up on her without her hearing him—that and the fact that he’d kicked off his loafers in the hallway.

  What had prompted her to sneak into his room? It wasn’t like she had to pick a lock—nothing in this chateau was locked, as far as he knew. But she’d clearly been seeking something here. And that something hadn’t been him, since he’d been downstairs. She’d been surprised when he’d come upon her so quickly, but he could tell immediately that she’d also been lost in one of her daydreams. Being pulled out of her own imagination was probably a very commonplace feeling for her.

  Still, Emmaline’s response to him had been clear enough. She’d wanted to be with him. And he’d been happy to oblige. He looked out the large bedroom windows and couldn’t see anything but the inky shadows of the forest far beyond these chateau walls. This room looked out over the southern expanse of Garronia, the forest that stretched eventually as far as the ocean.

  It was so peaceful here, in Theo’s idyll in the mountains. He hadn’t been willing to break that peace, not even when he’d checked his e-mail. His parents had sent him three separate messages, and Cyril had flooded his phone with texts. Only Stefan had been quiet, as he’d said he would be, unless the need was great.

  It hadn’t been, apparently.

  He allowed a small sigh to whisper over Emmaline’s shoulder, but she didn’t stir. Based on what he’d seen of the television coverage, the story had nearly peaked by early evening. The international media community was a vulture, but it was also a creature of needs. It fed off any carrion that was thrust in front of it. But if there was no new meat to tear apart, the bird would be forced to fly on and seek its stories elsewhere.

  Kristos was sure everyone at the castle was doing their level best to bury any interest in an ongoing story too. Nevertheless, there was no denying the fact that the Accession Ball for his much-vaunted status as crown prince was going to happen later this week. Putting it off would simply feed the rumor mill that there was more occurring in the castle than they’d presented, and that was a nightmare nobody wanted to endure.

  But he’d have at least one more day to himself with Emmaline. And considering how much he’d been able to accomplish in the first fifteen hours of their acquaintance, the prospect of at least another thirty-six was definitely good news.

  There was still far too much he wanted to know about Emmaline Andrews—enigmatic American, former musician, current caregiver, bedder of terrible lovers before him—and he was determined to get the answers.

  “Emmaline,” he murmured, leaning down over her.

  “Mm?” she didn’t so much as respond coherently as force herself back to consciousness out of an innate need to ensure everyone was okay, taken care of, he knew. It was one of her most immediately obvious attributes—not one he necessarily liked, but as much a part of her as were her hair and eyes.

  He briefly weighed what he wanted to ask of her and found the questions coming to mind were not at all useful. So he settled on something simple. “What would you like to do tomorrow, koukla mou?” he asked.

  She answered so quietly, he had to lean forward to hear her words, and then it took him a moment to process what she was saying. “The lake.”

  He frowned at her. “The lake?”

  She made a halfhearted gesture to the window, then snuggled more deeply into the sheets, leaving him so curious that he kissed her again on the shoulder, then moved out of the bed to stand at the window where he’d found her. A scan of the far horizon identified the gleam of water, and he nodded. The lake. She meant Estral Falls.

  Of course they could go there.

  A sudden chirring of night creatures took his gaze back down to the forest beneath him, and he squinted in the darkness. Dimitri must still be down there, and Kristos leaned out the window to scan the walls and tiled rooftops of the chateau. Theo had not been too concerned with securing his house from on-foot attacks, which meant Kristos could easily escape.

  With only a second’s hesitation, Kristos moved to the chest of drawers, pulling them open to remove pants and a shirt that he always kept here. His running shoes were in the closet. It took him only a few minutes more to return to the window, stepping on top of the wide sill, steadying himself for a moment. Behind him, Emmaline breathed in a rhythmic cadence. She wouldn’t be waking any time soon. And if he could get the jump on Dimitri…

  The drop to the tiled rooftop of the next tier of the chateau was short, and Kristos was already running as his feet connected with the hard surface. If Dimitri was anywhere close, he would definitely have heard the noise. But would he make the connection that it was Kristos dropping on him from above? Kristos didn’t think so.

  Scaling the walls was short work, and he dropped easily into the narrow grassy space between the house and the forest. He stepped into the shadows, going completely still, waiting for his heart rate to slow so he could hear the sounds of forest around him.

  Dimitri was definitely not aware of him—or at least, not entirely certain. A soft curse sounded to his right, at some distance, and Kristos took off through the trees. Dimitri had the advantage of night-vision goggles, but Kristos had spent many hours in this forest. He would still be the one with the upper—

  A figure stepped out of the trees immediately in front of him, eyes glowing eerily red. Clearly acting on instinct, Dimitri ducked, then plowed into Kristos’s chest, sending him flying. They rolled together, and Kristos took a hard elbow to the temple before delivering a roundhouse crack that took his larger attacker off his heels.

  The man’s curse as he connected with a tree trunk was very satisfying. “Since when did you think you could beat me in a fair fight, you big ox?”

  “I wasn’t trying to fight you.” Dimitri blew out a hard breath, doubled over. “If I was trying to fight you, you’d be dead. I heard you lumbering over the rooftops like some sort of vagrant, and my duty is to protect you, even from yourself.”

  Kristos was on his feet now, his hands loose, his stance wide. “I don’t need protecting.”

  “Yes, you do,” Dimitri said. He stood and rubbed a hand over his face, pulling off his goggles. “Here.” He handed the set to Kristos, laughing as Kristos grabbed the prize and immediately put it to his face. Through the filtered image, he saw Dimitri staring back at him, his gaze unexpectedly chagrined.

  “Ari didn’t want to be crown prince either, you know. You two are not so different from each other.”

  That stopped Kristos. He fixed his stare on Dimitri, then pulled the goggles off. Some moonlight filtered through the trees—enough for him to see his brother’s b
est friend. “He talked to you about it?”

  Dimitri shrugged. “Enough. He wanted to find a way to serve in the military with you, despite being the heir apparent. He wanted to put an end to the round of ceremonial ribbon cuttings and foreign travel that did nothing more than remind the world that Garronia existed, when it should be known for something more than its newest prince.” He looked away into the forest. “Part of me thinks he knew what he was doing when he flew off in that untested plane. Part of me knows he would never have done that to his family.”

  “Or to you.”

  Dimitri snorted. “Me, he would screw over in a heartbeat. And now I’ve been saddled with Frederick. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d wish to be stuck with you on a mission. He’s an idiot.”

  “Yeah, well, infrared mark his gear. You’ll always know where to find him when the trouble starts.”

  “Ah.” Dimitri’s worried expression turned into a wide grin. “That makes it official. You’ll make an excellent king one day.”

  Chapter 11

  Emmaline woke with a start, not sure for a moment where she was. White, gauzy curtains fluttered in the morning breeze, and sunlight spilled brightly over dark tiles. Her body felt strange, rested and languorous, the kind of feeling she usually only had when…

  Her eyes shot wide as the sound of water pouring from a shower finally penetrated her brain. She was in Kristos’s room, and they’d—they’d actually—

  Holy crap! She’d just met the guy yesterday morning!

  Emmaline sat up, her hands going to her face. Her borrowed dress was now neatly folded over the chair, and she frowned down at herself, checking beneath the sheet.

  Nope. No clothes.

  And Kristos was in the shower. What was she supposed to do here? All her careful planning deserted her, and she felt an unparalleled desire to make a list. Of something. She couldn’t just throw on her dress and slut-walk out of the room. That would make their next meeting almost unbearable. Plus, if she encountered a housekeeper or maid or someone like that, she would pretty much self-immolate on the spot. Which would cause a stain, if nothing else.