by Katie Knight
“There! See it?” The doctor clicked a few keys on the computer to zoom in and then there it was. The baby. His baby. With a tiny flickering light near its center. The doctor cranked up the sound and soon a rhythmic pulse beat echoed through the room. “We have a heartbeat! Congratulations, your highness.”
Es clutched Z’s fingers so tightly, he thought they might snap off, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tears shone in her eyes and he felt an unexpected prickle at the back of his eyes, too, as pride swelled up inside him. He’d made that. They’d made that. Their baby.
It felt like getting hit with a warm, fuzzy sledgehammer.
Chapter Seventeen
Esme puttered around the townhouse that evening, feeling restless and bored. Being pregnant was so different from what she’d expected. There was the sickness, sure, but then there were all the hormone fluctuations that made her giddy one second, weepy the next, and everything in between. Right now, she felt like she wanted companionship.
The doctor’s appointment earlier had been a big deal. At last, she finally had medical confirmation that there was indeed a baby growing inside her and that all was well—for the moment, anyway. And when the doctor had brought up that tiny ultrasound image of their baby’s beating heart…
She sighed, hugging her hands over her heart. So, so precious.
Though not usually one to be overly sappy about things, Esme felt truly moved that she and Z had done it. They’d made a baby together. They’d given her a shot at keeping her throne and her country safe. They’d just done it a bit sooner than she’d expected. Now, they had seven-and-a-half months to get ready. Seven months to figure out how to make this awkward situation work between them without the baby-making sex to take up their time and attention.
A weird pang of longing squeezed through her chest. Truth be told, she’d miss that baby-making sex. No, not the sex so much at the connection she’d found with Z. He’d been surprisingly tender and attentive with her even though this had been nothing more than a way for him to get back to the SEAL team he loved. And yeah, okay. The sex had been pretty great too.
Her cell phone buzzed with more incoming messages from her father’s Prylean advisors. They wanted her to make a formal announcement about her father’s condition. They wanted her to know that her plan would only work if the baby was a boy. They reminded her that her child would only inherit the crown if she and Z were legally wed.
All of those things were important, but none of them were what was foremost on her mind at the moment.
Through the open door in the hall, the one that led down to the basement where Z was currently working out, Esme heard the clank of his metal weights and the occasional grunt or groan from the man himself. Her traitorous mind immediately flashed images of other times he’d made those same noises—when they’d been in bed together, him driving into with such care and fierce protectiveness, the way his handsome face flushed right before he climaxed, the way the strong muscles in his arms trembled with his release.
The yearning in her heart intensified, along with the simmering want in her blood.
It was the hormones. Had to be. Esme was not usually so sex-obsessed, even around men she desired. But there was something about Z… So strong, so alpha, so damned gorgeous.
She was setting aside her nightly bedtime snack of apple slices and crackers and on her feet before Esme realized what she was doing. Surely one little peek of the man downstairs, all sweaty and buff from his exertions, wouldn’t hurt anything, right? No one ever had to know. She could hide behind the stair railing and watch him a moment as he exercised.
But as she tiptoed down the steps, she heard a second male voice that stopped her in her tracks. Would Z’s friend spot her if she went the rest of the way downstairs? She couldn’t be sure, and she paused on the middle stairs and crouched to peek through the railing. Z’s open laptop was perched on the counter in front of the weight machine. On it was a bald-headed, African-American man with a Navy SEAL tattoo. She wondered if Z had shared the happy news yet.
Her smile fell slightly at that. No. He wouldn’t, would he? Since this was nothing more than a job for him. A means to an end. Though she’d swear he’d looked just as dazzled as she’d felt about seeing their bean-sized baby for the first time today.
Rather than eavesdrop on the conversation, however, Esme was more interested in the sexy hunk of man-flesh laid out before her on the work bench. His bare torso was roped with muscles, toned and tanned and gleaming with sweat beneath the overhead recessed lighting. The sprinkling of dark hair on his pecs trailed downward to disappear beneath the waistband of his blue basketball shorts. His legs, long and firm and sprinkled with the same dark golden hair, were braced on either side of the bench, his bare feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor, his powerful thighs spread slightly to accommodate his position. Her brain short-circuited with lust as her hormones went haywire once more. All Esme could seem to think about now was continuing down the stairs, striping as she went until she was completely naked, then kneeling between his legs on that bench, lowering those shorts, then taking him into her mouth, pleasuring him with her lips and tongue until he was rock hard, then riding him like a bull until they both reached mind-blowing orgasms.
The fact that his friend might witness it all didn’t deter her pregnancy-fueled libido. In fact, the thought of being watched added an illicit thrill to the adrenaline and need already pumping through her bloodstream. Before she could move, though, Z was up and over at the computer, saying goodbye to his friend before shutting the laptop. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his neck before cracking open a bottle of water and downing half the contents in one long gulp.
Esme watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed, the tips of his blond hair dark with sweat, and wished she could walk over there and lick his skin, tasting the salt there.
Quietly as she could, Esme stood and made her way slowly to the bottom of the stairs. If she’d been her normal self, she would’ve returned upstairs and forgotten all about this crazy seduction plan, but as it was, the hormones had gotten the better of her. That’s the excuse she was going with anyway.
One of the floorboards creaked under her feet and Z spun fast to look at her over his shoulder. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his warm blue gaze trailing over her from head to toe. She felt that glance like a physical touch, driving her already-powerful desire over the edge.
He barely had a chance to set his water aside before she was on him, tackling him back against the bar, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, literally jumping him.
At first, Z seemed too stunned to respond to her kisses, but then he relaxed into them, his tongue parting her lips to slip inside. His mouth tasted cool from the water and slightly salty from his sweat. She couldn’t get enough. He tangled his fingers in her hair, holding her closer as he deepened the kiss.
Finally, he pulled away, his hands cupping her rear and his breath panting. “Hey, princess. Es.” She tried to kiss him again, not wanting to think, only wanting to feel, but he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Hey, hang on. Is everything okay? You never come down here.”
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the scent of citrus and sweat and warm male. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash all of their problems tonight. She knew all too well what they were up against outside the sheltered walls of this townhouse. What she wanted instead was just to feel good, to feel desired, to feel anything but the fear and sorrow of knowing her father would soon be gone and she’d be left alone to deal with the aftermath.
“Please,” she said, holding Z tighter. Her guardian against the world. “Please just hold me. I want you to make love to me, Z. Not because we’re making a baby, but just because you’re so good at it and I need to feel good right now. Please?”
His gaze narrowed and he watched her for a few moments. Then a telltale bulge lengthened and hardened against her lower abdomen and he
r feminine instincts went wild. Oh, yeah. He wanted her all right. As much as she wanted him, by the feel of things. And tonight, she’d have him, for no other reason than she wanted him, so much she could barely see straight.
“Please?” she begged again, this time pressing her body closer to his.
His eyes warmed then he cursed under his breath, apparently losing some battle with himself. Next thing Esme knew, she was on the floor, her back pressed to the thick mat at the center of the room with Z kneeling over her. The front of his shorts was tented, a sign of how badly he wanted this, too.
“Are you sure, princess?” Concern warred with lust in his expression. “With the baby—”
“The doctor said it was fine, especially this early on. We just have to be careful. Nothing too rough.” She snagged her fingers in the waistband of his shorts and tugged downward until the tip of his hard cock popped out. A pearl of moisture glistened at the tip and she licked her lips, longing to taste him. She’d never been adventurous in the bedroom before, but Z brought out a whole new vixen side to her. She drew the pad of her thumb across the velvety head of his cock, catching the liquid there, then bringing it to her lips. Salty and slightly bitter, but not unpleasant at all.
Z watched her actions through half-lidded eyes, crimson dotting his high cheekbones. He cursed low again then quickly shucked off his shorts and her tracksuit, revealing her lacy bra and panties beneath. Soon, she’d be too big to wear these sexy things, so she figured she might as well take advantage while she could. Given the naked need on Z’s face, her choice had been a wise one.
Once he had her naked, too, he stretched out beside her and cupped one breast. “You are so beautiful, Es. So soft and pretty and infinitely lickable.”
As if to prove his point, he bent and took her taut nipple into his mouth, sucking and nuzzling her until she was writhing beneath him. His kisses continued down her middle until he reached the apex of her thighs. Then Z positioned her like he wanted before lying down between her legs and tracing his tongue up the center of her slick folds. Esme gasped, clutching her fingers in his hair and losing herself in the wonderful sensations this man created within her. This was more than sex, more than just some deal. This was every bit as real and touching for her as if they were really dating even if deep in her heart she knew that wasn’t true.
Still, with all the tension elsewhere in her life, this outlet was heavenly. Necessary, even. After all, it wouldn’t do to get overly stressed and risk hurting the baby, right?
Working her body gently, Z inserted first one, then two fingers inside her slick channel while he circled his tongue around her sensitive clit. The need within her ratcheted higher and higher until she teetered on the pinnacle of passion. “Yes!” Esme cried out, holding him tighter to her. “Yes, please. Make me come, Z. Please make me come.”
He grinned, humming against her sensitive flesh as he inserted a third finger and the added fullness did it. Her world exploded into a billion shards of pure feelings, all stress and tension ebbing away on wave after wave of sensation. Afterward, Z slowly kissed his way up her body to her lips.
Z moved over her, the broad tip of his cock brushing her wet entrance. He entered her in one, smooth thrust, pausing hilt-deep inside her to let her adjust before beginning a slow, steady rhythm that soon had them both near the brink of ecstasy.
“You feel so amazing, princess,” he whispered against her ear, making her arch and shudder against him. “I was afraid once we made the baby, this might all stop.”
She smiled, glad to hear the reluctance in his tone. “No way. This connection between us is one of the best parts of our whole deal. Besides, we’ll be hitched until after the baby’s born. Might as well take advantage of those benefits while we can, eh?”
Hesitating slightly, Z smiled down at her then changed his angle of penetration slightly, hitting a bundle of nerves inside her that sent ripples of pleasure through her whole body. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Esme inhaled sharply and bit her lip. Her clit rubbed against him on each thrust and if he kept going the way he was, she wouldn’t last at all. “Z, I—I—”
“Yes, princess,” he coaxed, trailing kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. “That’s it. Let go for me, Es. Let go.”
She did, bucking hard beneath him as her second orgasm crashed over her. Z growled as her body milked him, thrusting harder, faster into her, before coming hard himself, his muscles quivering with his release.
As the pleasure subsided, he stretched out beside her once more, then spooned her back against him, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “That was nice.”
“That was amazing,” she said, her tone sleepy and her eyes heavy. “You should think about hiring yourself out as a stress-reliever after our contract is up.”
“Hmm.” His deep chuckles resonated through her back as his chest pressed up against her. “Maybe I will, princess, maybe I will.”
Much as she wanted to stay awake and continue this playful banter, Esme’s eyes soon closed and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, the feel of Z’s arms slipping beneath her to carry her up to their bed.
Chapter Eighteen
Z had always considered Thanksgiving a time to kick back and relax, enjoy some turkey and all the fixings and watch sports on TV. He’d never considered the media shitstorm currently whirling around the townhouse as something even in the realm of possibilities.
“How did they find out?” Es asked, her gaze locked on the TV screen in front of them. “We haven’t told anyone. No one knew except my father and the physician. Even the people who knew we’d be trying, like my dad’s staff, didn’t know about the positive test.”
“I don’t know.” Z shook his head and raked a hand through his hair. “The paparazzi must’ve been following us around and put two and two together.”
That was the only rational explanation he could come up with for the fact that he and Es’s pictures were plastered all over every network tabloid show across the country. The headlines read everything from “An Early Christmas Present for the Princess” to “The Poor Boy and the Princess Make a Baby.” If that wasn’t bad enough, the phones had been ringing off the hook with news outlets calling for a statement from the expecting mom and dad. Z might be comfortable behind a weapon, but he sure as hell had no desire to get in front of the camera.
Es’s PR team was buzzing around the place, reconfirming Z’s worst fears—there was no way to get out in front of this situation now. The best they could hope for was to ride the wave to a positive conclusion.
For her part, Es seemed perfectly comfortable with it all. Then again, she’d been born to life in the public eye. He hadn’t. She chuckled and placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t look so grim. This is actually perfect timing. We can announce our engagement before the holidays and get it out of the way. We’ll say it was a whirlwind romance.”
Z wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know. I’m not really ready for all this yet.”
Es snorted. “What did you expect would happen when you married a royal? Don’t be so naïve.”
“I’m not naïve,” he said, feeling oddly defensive. “I guess I just thought I’d be able to stay in the background and let you and the baby take the spotlight. I’m not really cut out to be a public figure. I’ve got too many skeletons in my closet.”
“Hmm,” one of the PR guys said, giving a derisive snort. “Well, if your past is anything like your wardrobe, we’re all in trouble, honey.”
“Hey.” Z scowled down at his casual black T-shirt and jeans. He wasn’t expecting to go out and work today. “What’s wrong with my outfit? It’s clean and it’s comfortable.”
“It’s also boring and hardly befitting for the future husband of a princess.” The guy walked around Z, assessing him from all sides. “Body’s not bad. Hair’s a bit scruffy. Face is good if we can get you to stop glowering at everyone. It’ll be a challenge, but I can work with it. What time’s the interview again?”
/> A woman behind the guy called, “Seven o’clock tonight.”
“Interview?” Z took a step back. “I never agreed to any interview.”
“Good thing, too. We can’t have you mucking it all up even worse than it already is, now can we?” the guy said, his thumbs flying across his phone screen as he typed. “I need to get on this if I’m going to get you ready in time.”
“Get me ready? You’re here for Es, not me.” His frown darkened. “And I won’t muck anything up.”
“This team is here for the royal family, of which you will soon be a part of, big boy. Best get used to it now.” The guy clicked off his phone and walked away before Z could respond.
Grumbling under his breath, he moved in closer to Es’s side where she sat in a stylist’s chair while she was primped to within an inch of her life. She looked paler than before and Z didn’t like it one little bit. He leaned closer to whisper, “Are you okay?”
Es flashed a wan smile. “Yeah, just a tad nauseous again.”
He walked over to the credenza and pulled out a fresh baggie of saltines from his store of snacks he kept stashed around the townhouse then carried them back to Es. “When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t know. Breakfast, I suppose.”
“That was over five hours ago.” Z checked his watch. “The doctor said you should eat every two hours. What about your pills?”
“I’m fine,” she said, nibbling on a saltine. “And I don’t need a pill. I don’t like taking them during the day. They make me sleepy. Quit fussing.”
“It’s my job to fuss,” he muttered. “By the way, I told these people I don’t want to be the spokesperson tonight.”
“Fine.” Es took a sip from the cup of tea her assistant handed to her, then nodded, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. “You can stand by my side and play the strong, silent type. You’ll be okay, don’t worry.”
