“Well, in that case…” His mouth closed over her sex through her panties and she forgot to think at all. The hot wet kiss drove her mad. He pulled away only to strip the fabric down her legs before the heavy, hard weight of him returned. The dip and swirl of his tongue sent her pleasure ratcheting up. It was both too much and not enough.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he whispered against her thigh before kissing his way back up to her bared breasts. He lingered on first one and then the other.
She wasn’t sure how she could answer under the sensual assault. Her breathing grew rapid as he swirled his tongue over one erect nipple in a back and forth motion which sent heat to throb through her lower body. A moment later, he levered himself up and she could only watch in a daze of utter lust as he stripped off his clothes.
The man had the best body, all tense and rippled and thick in the right places. Adding his natural charm to the mix along with the dark crown of his hair and the errant lock that fell into his eyes, he devastated her senses. He didn’t give her long to look before he covered her naked body with his and captured her mouth for another long, greedy kiss. His hands seemed to be everywhere, stroking, touching, and teasing. When he cupped her pussy, she cried out against his mouth. He pursued her pleasure with relentless demand.
Some fogged over portion of her mind recognized the claim for what it was—he was staking ownership and demonstrating exactly whom she belonged to and it was magnificent. She neverwanted him to stop. His finger slid against her clit, teasing it wickedly, and unleashed a torrent within her. Every circular swipe of his finger against her sensitive flesh pushed her higher and she spiraled on delight. He drove her right up to the edge, and her inner muscles clenched at the first invasion of his finger. He pulled back and then slid in a second with another thrust.
Arching her back, she lifted her hips to meet the sensation. A hot smile curved his lips, and his eyes darkened. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Then he increased the pressure and every nerve ending her body seemed to light up with the promise of her orgasm. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled his hand away.
She wanted to cry out from the loss, but then he angled and thrust inside of her and never once took his gaze away. Every stroke of his body sent spasms of pleasure spiraling through her. She couldn’t look away, the darkness reflected in his eyes held her captive.
So connected to him, she fought to ride the cresting waves. She felt naked, raw and exposed. She loved him so much and his passion and love reflected in the ferocity of his gaze. When his jaw clenched, she locked her legs around his hips, increasing the angle. She could feel him so deep inside, they would never be apart. The shift of his thrust splintered her focus, and she toppled over the edge. He followed her, his hips pumping as his climax took him.
They tumbled together, and he collapsed against her. He rested his forehead to hers, and never once did he look away. “I love you,” he told her, which made her want to fly all over again. “Only ever you.”
The next threedays passed in a blissful haze. Of course, he’d still had issues to deal with and reports from the Greek authorities to go over. The men in the helicopter remained at-large. According to Sebastian’s conference call with his brother, Peterson—the head of Armand’s security—and Jonas Quinn, a man with ties to MI-6 and the family’s most recent addition to their European security forces, the chances the assailants would be caught dwindled. The yacht remained in deep, international waters and so far no chatter reached the press. The incident on St. Christos was successfully covered up.
Meredith’s fury over the burying of the incident lit her up like a fierce flame from within. He delighted in arguing with her, even as he had to disappoint her vision of what should have happened. Publicizing the incident would not only highlight the family’s holdings, but also their vulnerability. No one claiming responsibility indicated an utter failure to complete their mission objective—and they didn’t want to give away the strategic value, either.
The answer hardly mollified her, but she’d finally accepted his assurance it was for the best. They spoke, at length, about a number of subjects from her fear of flying to her actual dislike of his London townhouse, which startled him. They’d stayed there three times over the past five years, and she insisted it was creepy. Her detailed history of the place shocked him further. Apparently, it had been home to a rather brutal murder in the 1920s, a fact his realtor never disclosed. Then again, perhaps the man simply hadn’t known.
Sebastian resolved the issue immediately. He would sell the place or donate it to a family in need and transform it with bettermemories. She’d gaped at him when he’d made the suggestion then laughed. He could get drunk off her laughter.
O’Connor, thankfully, was already on the road to recovery. Sebastian escorted Meredith down to visit with her bodyguard and, for the first time, he tried to observe their interaction through a lens not discolored by jealousy. Odd for a prince to envy another man anything, least of all the comfort of friendship they found in each other. But he wanted it to be him Meredith turned to, not O’Connor. It was a goal worth aspiring toward.
When the subject turned to other likes and dislikes, she’d pointed to their varied course meals and asked why they couldn’t simply have a hamburger or an actual sub sandwich. Not everything needed to be gourmet.
Sebastian mentioned the chef might not be thrilled with such a banal request, and she’d merely given him a look. He should have understood what her expression meant, because an hour later she’d disappeared. He found her in the kitchens, cooking.
He leaned against the counter, watching her browning two meat patties in a pan. Philippe hovered in the background, as did Vidal and Gencome, Meredith’s newly arrived bodyguard. Sebastian met the dark-skinned Frenchman upon arrival and signed off on Vidal’s selection. Claude Gencome offered a varied history as an inspector with the French police—one of the youngest—as well as a decorated if unremarkable military record. What Sebastian approved of was Vidal’s endorsement and Gencome’s no nonsense attitude when he’d been introduced to Meredith.
She’d complained at first, worried about Terry losing his job, but Sebastian pointed out O’Connor needed time to recover and then to recuperate. When he was well, they could revisit the arrangement. If Sebastian had his way, Meredith would be a permanent addition to his household by then and O’Connor would be back in Boston.
“You know I could come find you when these are ready,” she told him over her shoulder. She’d stolen one of his shirts again, not that he minded. It looked far better on her than him. Though they were in the Mediterranean, the temperatures were chillier, so she wore slacks and a pair of deck shoes. His closet held several items for her to choose from, all of which belonged to her after being left behind or purchased for her other visits. He liked seeing her clothes hanging next to his.
“I find watching you cooking fascinating.”
She stuck her tongue then grinned. “Boy, do you need to get out more.” The casual ease with which she issued her challenges seemed to have also grown in the intervening three days. Meredith teased so rarely, yet she’d relaxed enough to pick on him. He adored it. “Cooking is not something I do very well. Mom could burn water, but I do know how to make burgers and I make a mean meatloaf.”
He had no doubts about her skill. “I’ve never eaten meatloaf.”
“No?” She flipped the burgers. “It’s a very steadfast meal with corn and mashed potatoes. Yum. I really like it on particularly cold nights. If I can get Philippe to forgive me for bastardizing his kitchen, maybe I can make some for you while we’re here.”
Before he could answer, the chef straightened. “It would be my great honor to host your meal preparation, ma’am. If you will agree to share with Philippe the recipe so he can prepare it for your future requests?”
Meredith swung her head around to stare at the chef. “Did you really just refer to yourself in the third person?”
The chef nodded once. “The frying of ‘burgers’ is simply compacting the ground beef and adding some spices, yes? Do you cook it fully or to medium rare?”
“Depends on how you like your burger. I prefer mine to be mostly cooked, so medium to medium well. Sebastian’s a raremeat kind of guy, so we’re going for medium-rare with his. Do you have ketchup?”
It took all of Sebastian’s considerable training not to laugh at the man’s expression.
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry, I don’t. I will add it to the next shopping list.”
“Maybe Bastian won’t like it.” She glanced back at him. “You’ve tasted ketchup, right?”
