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10: In Which She Closes a Chapter

10.0: In Which She Closes a Chapter

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After Lev hauled Nikolai’s one suitcase up into the guestroom, I sat on the edge of the queen-sized bed and watched Nikolai set it beside me and open it. LV might have been spattered all over the outside but the inside was a warzone.

“What?” Nikolai followed my open-mouthed stare to the mound of clothing in the valise. “I was kind of in a hurry.”

I rose and stooped, snatching a creased V-necked T-shirt with disdain. “They all need pressing, unless you want to look like you slept in every single item in here.”

He laughed, throwing an arm around my waist and pulling me into his solid front. “Is it strange that I’m getting turned on from you talking about ironing my clothes?” He buried his nose in my hair.

“Hey, I didn’t offer,” I told him, reaching behind me and unravelling the towel that hung low on his hips. “Get dressed, Prince.”

He slapped my ass, making me squeal. “Don’t call me that,” he growled, his mouth against the back of my neck. “Mm. Apples.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, although the air felt charged with sexual electricity now. “We have to go down for breakfast.”

“And we will,” was Nikolai’s husky response as he fisted my hair in his hand, away from his twister of a tongue.

I jerked myself away and landed on the bed, breathing heavily. “My parents are very…particular about meals at the table,” I explained, playing with the hem of my T-shirt. “If we take way too long, they’ll… Well, they’re not stupid. They’ll know we’re having sex upstairs.” I sighed heavily. “Plus my brother’s home for some kind of mid-term break. This will be awkward.”

Nikolai was pulling on clothes as I spoke and I studiously kept my gaze on the cream wall behind him.

“We’ve already had sex upstairs,” Nikolai helpfully pointed out with a smouldering stare.

I threw him a glower. “Which shouldn’t have happened. It’s disrespectful.” I felt my face soften with the memory. “Not that I wouldn’t do it again.”

He laughed, looking too delectable in a not-too-rumpled lime-green T-shirt and low-riding black jeans. He settled beside me and laced his black Converse. “Did I mention that your stepmother is a little…strange?” he said conversationally, rising to all his impressive six-foot-something height.

“Strange?” I followed suit, still amazed that Prince Nikolai Alvonich was actually standing in the house I’d more or less grown up in; that he had actually said the B-word and I hadn’t freaked out.

Oh, fuck.

It was right then that I remembered what time I’d stumbled into the house and who’d met me at the front door: Rory the night-time writer. I usually called Sav up whenever I was drunk but since I’d been ignoring her calls since I’d come home, that was out of the question. Mikhail, my second closest friend, was literally related to the problem and besides, he was on honeymoon in Brazil.

“I might or might not have described your dick to her last night,” I mumbled, allowing Nikolai to take my hand in his and lead me out the door. “In graphic, HD detail.”

He cut a sharp look at me. “What?”

“I was drunk, OK? All kinds of things came out my mouth last night, including my plea for you to come.” I cleared my throat. “Rory and I might or might not have gotten into an argument about Prince Alberts versus apadravya piercings.”