Finding Chris Evans: The Royal Edition (7 page)

Cris let her peel the jacket away, and every muscle in his upper body appeared taut as her hands went to the buttons of his shirt. He wasn’t wearing a tee shirt underneath, and each loosed button revealed more of his skin—skin she realized she’d never seen before, though the inn had a pool. She’d always been too busy, too distracted to look.

She wasn’t distracted now.

Cris watched her silently as she pulled the shirt free of his trousers, letting the tails hang loose as her fingers closed around the fine leather belt at his waist. His skin smelled of warm cinnamon, and she wanted more than anything to close her eyes and revel in the sheer sensation of him being here, with her. But she refused to let a second of this pass without memorizing it with every sense at her disposal.

“LeeAnn,” he whispered, and she moved her gaze up his knotted abs, the heavy planes of his chest tensing. His jaw was knotted too. She hadn’t moved her hands from his belt, however, and she realized that belatedly by the time she met his eyes.

“Sorry,” she managed, but when she tried to loosen her grip, he stopped her with the touch of his own hands.

“Don’t be.” His voice was low, rough, and his gaze held hers possessively. “I only want to know how far you wish to take this. If I don’t ask now, I won’t think to ask later, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” At his words LeeAnn’s heart practically shivered, the need spiking within her so naked that she couldn’t form an intelligent response. Something in her expression must have betrayed her, however, because Cris’s smile deepened.

“Good,” he said. Leaning forward, he captured her lips with his once more in a short, hard kiss. Then he pulled away and stood, peeling off his shirt and throwing it to the coffee table. He held out his hand. “I suspect your bedroom has a commanding view of the lake, no?”

“The lake and the courtyard—it’s the top floor, one big room.” She took his hand and let him draw her to her feet, her fluster mitigated by the fact that he turned to the stairs so he couldn’t see her face.
What am I doing? What must he think of me?

He didn’t seem to mind, that was certain. Instead he moved toward the stairs with purpose, his upper body lithe and strong. There were several small scars trailing down one shoulder, but otherwise his back was as perfect as the rest of him.

They climbed the stairs in silence, and at the top, he pivoted. “I think you’re overdressed.” He stepped back, surveying her critically. “You look wrapped up, but that’s an illusion, I think—no, don’t tell me.”

LeeAnn’s cheeks flared as he circled her. Her dress was one piece—one. It shimmied over her head without the benefit of even a zipper. When she’d finally settled on wearing it, she hadn’t been thinking of removing it with an audience.

“Ah, I have it,” he said from behind her. “Stay very still. This view is spectacular.”

LeeAnn’s gaze lifted, confused. They weren’t facing either of the large windows of the loft space, but the center wall—which held her dresser-wide mirror. As she stood motionless, Cris pulled her dress up inch by sensual inch, baring her legs, then her hips. As he moved her dress upward, he watched her in the mirror, his gaze so intent that his eyes practically gleamed despite the shadowed room.

“I’m afraid I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured. “Lift your arms.”

Once she did, he pulled the dress upward and over her arms in one quick swoosh, but didn’t give LeeAnn any time to be self-conscious in her bra and matching panties—another decision she’d not given any thought to, but one that made her intensely relieved all the same.

Cris turned her in his arms, and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her mouth soundly. “Now it seems
I’m
overdressed,” he said.

Her hands dropped to his belt as if coming home. “Let me see what I can do about that.”

A moment later, Cris’s buttery-soft trousers fell to the thick rug, leaving him only in his boxer briefs. When LeeAnn reached for them, though, he laughed.

“No, you have to let me savor this a moment more,” he said. He pulled her over to the bed then eased both of them onto it. Then he paused a moment, staring down at her.

Seeing the expression on Cris’s face was one of those moments that LeeAnn knew she would treasure for the rest of her life. He was strong and intense, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders, his muscular torso taut. But it was his eyes that held her in thrall, dark and mysterious in the light of the moon through the windows, staring at her as if she was his whole world.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, then covered her mouth with his.

Cristopoulis was going to explode like a teenager with his first girlfriend if he didn’t knock himself down a few pegs. But he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t been exaggerating—LeeAnn had somehow become the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and not simply because she was here, soft and in his arms…

Although that certainly helped.

He snaked his hand around LeeAnn’s back and loosened her bra, trying not to wrench it off her body. Her full breasts filled his hands perfectly, and her tiny gasp of pleasure as he palmed their weight might as well have been a blowtorch against the end of a very short fuse. Cristopoulis groaned, rocking against her body. Though they were still separated by the thinnest of fabrics, the intimate touch made him grit his teeth.

LeeAnn didn’t help matters by arching beneath him, as if she could somehow bring herself closer still.

He tried centering himself, but there was no way that was going to work. This wasn’t a time for meditation, so he fell back on the training he’d ground into his head first in Garronia’s military, then on the football field.

That wasn’t much more successful. Need formed an angry knot of purpose in his gut, and he was already rigid with desire, the promise of LeeAnn’s soft heat enough to send every thought of moderation flying. He bent into her, nuzzling the base of her neck where her pulse jumped erratically. If ever there was an indication that she wanted this as much as he did, he had it in that pulse.

And if any doubt remained, LeeAnn’s cool, strong hands sliding down his waist to cup his ass was another indicator.

“You’re so strong,” she marveled, and it took him a moment to track her words. “I mean, I knew you were strong but it’s like—it’s like you spend your life in the gym.” She paused. “Only we don’t have an onsite gym here.”

He didn’t trust himself to look at her, lest she catch the lie in his eyes. “I run,” he said dismissively. “And you don’t need a gym. You have the woods.”

“Yes, but—oh.” Whatever LeeAnn was going to say was cut off as he moved his attention to her right breast, his mouth closing around the straining peak of her nipple as his left hand caressed her other breast. The dual attack made her go boneless beneath him, and Cristopoulis smiled, fierce with the knowledge that
he
was making her relax like this,
he
was making her arch with feminine satisfaction. Him, and no one else.

He liked the sound of that.

Moving quickly, he traced a fiery line of kisses down the curve of LeeAnn’s abs, until he reached the edge of her black silk panties. He was well beyond asking permission at this point, but she misread his hesitation and hooked her own thumbs in the delicate fabric. “Yes,” she whispered.

She didn’t need to tell him twice. He pulled the silky cloth down almost viciously, then rolled away from the bed only long enough to remove his own boxers and slick on the condom he’d freed from his trouser pocket. By the time he returned to LeeAnn, she was up on her elbows, staring at him with a look of such intense need that he felt the rush of desire crash into him again, spinning him toward climax before he’d even touched the woman.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he muttered and then he was on her again, pushing her back against the heavy cotton sheets, sinking into the plush mattress as she giggled. The sound of her laughter freed him, as it always did, and so did the new softness of her sigh when he lifted his body over hers. LeeAnn’s bright eyes met his with a mixture of defiance, relief and anticipation, and he knew exactly how she felt.

He nudged into her, smiling as she blinked rapidly at the sensual intrusion. But even through the thin shield of protection he could feel her damp heat as he eased slowly inside. She wanted this, she wanted him. She’d have him too, if he had anything to say about it. For as long as they both could last.

Another inch, though, and he knew he wouldn’t be lasting long this first time, that was for sure. Especially when LeeAnn mimicked her move from earlier and placed her hands on his ass, then pulled him closer.

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, her eyes drifting shut as he sank another inch inside her. “That feels so good.”

Her face had been transformed by pure pleasure, and it was all Cristopoulis could do to hold onto the thin thread of his control. He moved against her, their natural rhythm taking over, and his eyes widened. Perhaps if he stared hard enough, he could see more of LeeAnn, see
into
her. Understand how she worked, how she loved. What she wanted most in the world and what she’d do to get it.

Sensing his regard, her lids fluttered open again, and LeeAnn held his gaze as she pressed up against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her legs had fallen loose to either side of his hips, the movement giving Cristopoulis greater depths to plunge and retract, each push a little deeper as she tightened reflexively around him.

Just when he thought he couldn’t last any more, though, she put a hand on his chest. “Roll,” she murmured. “I want to see more of you.”

He obligingly followed the momentum of her push, shifting over to his back as she settled on top of him, the position allowing him yet deeper inside her. She stared down at his body, but now he had a better view too.

“You really are beautiful,” he said, knowing he was repeating himself but not caring. LeeAnn’s answering smile was as affecting as her hands on his shoulders, her breasts swinging toward him. Need built once more to a dizzying height.

“You are too,” she said, and her gaze raked over his face, his shoulders. She tilted her head, her right hand grazing the now-healed scars on his upper arm, where he’d tangled with a sprawling opponent in one of his last events and gone crashing into a barricade. There may have been some fists and feet flying in that altercation, but he hadn’t noticed the blood until he’d popped back up. “What happened here?” she murmured.

Guilt spasmed through him at another deception, but he wasn’t going to ruin the moment. “Bar fight,” he said.

She cocked a brow, her dubious glance sliding back to meet his gaze. “Really.”

“I’m very dangerous.” To emphasize his point, it was his turn to put his hands on her hips, seating her more firmly. LeeAnn’s lips parted and her eyelids drooped, but her gaze never strayed from his as he guided her into a familiar rhythm that was yet different this time, different in focus and intensity, because he couldn’t stop staring at her, consuming her completely, body and soul.

As if knowing how close he was to the edge, LeeAnn chose that moment to lean forward, gripping his shoulders now, her hips rocking in perfect sync with his. She laughed and he found his own laughter matching hers—in fact, everything matched between them, the two of them so right, so perfect in this moment that he couldn’t imagine a time before there was LeeAnn, or any time thereafter that she wouldn’t be the one who was in his arms, in his bed, the one who he would want and need every morning, every—

The slow slide toward climax rocketed into a bolt of fire. He went rigid in her embrace, then shuddered, his sight going white as the waves of his release shook the breath from him. When he could see again it was the image of her face, her delighted smile the essence of feminine satisfaction, her throaty purr a sensual counterpoint to his own gasping tremors.

With a growl he rolled her over, then peeled away from her body. “Don’t move,” he said. He was back a moment later, even as she made to get up from the bed.

“I said, don’t move,” he chided, softening his words with a smile as he crawled into bed beside her.

“But—” LeeAnn hesitated, confusion on her face, and he shook his head slowly.

“I don’t know what kind of lovers you are used to having, LeeAnn Werth,” he murmured. “But there is clearly something else you must learn about the men from Garronia. We guard our women jealously once we get them into our beds.”

LeeAnn pursed her lips, unable to keep the dimple from appearing in her cheek. “Only this is my bed.”

“All the more reason for me to stake my claim.” Cristopoulis dropped a kiss on her shoulder, reveling in the softness of her hair as it caressed his cheek. “In fact it’s my sworn duty to ensure you never want to leave this bed, at least not while I’m in it.” He grinned. “And be advised…I’ve never failed in my sworn duty.”

He didn’t this time, either.

Chapter Six

LeeAnn woke with the sun streaming through the windows, her favorite time of day in the pretty carriage house. Even more favorite now, with Cristopoulis here.

She frowned a moment later, turning over. Cris wasn’t beside her in the bed any more. Disappointment stabbed through her, which she quickly stuffed down. The man wasn’t her boyfriend. He was…