She could have sworn he’d said, “You are an exceedingly wonderful woman, Maylee,” just as she’d drifted off to sleep, but it might have been her imagination.
***
The next morning was a flurry of activity. They’d woken up earlier than usual, as Griffin had to be at the palace early for a wedding breakfast. Then, he’d have to change into his full regalia, attend the ceremony at the tiny church in the heart of Bellissime, and then endure hours of photographs before he could finally escape. There was a wedding reception that evening because Luke’s family was American and insisted on it, but Her Royal Highness Sybilla-Louise had been appalled at the thought of spending more time in the company of Americans, so she would not be attending. Neither would the queen, who was ancient and had an early bedtime.
Griffin figured that since they would not be attending, it would be safe for him to skip out on things. He’d buy his cousin Alex a nice wedding present to make up for it, maybe a chateau in the Noire Valley. He knew she rather liked the place.
But first, he had to get through the day, and it was going to be long and tedious, and he told Maylee so repeatedly while she tried to fix his tie.
She slapped him lightly on the chest. “Hold still, Your Royal Fussiness.”
“Actually, my correct title would be Viscount Fussiness, or Lord Fussiness,” he corrected, and couldn’t resist running the backs of his fingers over the curve of her breast as she leaned over him. “I’m not a royal highness in title any longer.”
Maylee wiggled away and gave his tie one last pat. “You’re all fancy now, Lord Fussiness,” she told him, but there was a smile in her voice. “And it could be worse. You could have to wear one of these ridiculous little hats.” She pointed at the powder blue feathered-and-netted confection in her pale curls.
“It’s called a fascinator,” he told her. “Everyone will be wearing one. It’s polite.”
“It looks like a quail got netted and slapped on a plate,” she grumbled. “And then smacked onto my head.”
He chuckled, because it did look a bit like that. “If I have to wear ridiculous clothes for this wedding, you do, too.”
“Yes, but I’m not in the wedding,” she teased, adjusting the tiny decorative net on her fascinator. “I’m merely a lowly servant who has no duties except to wait on you hand and foot.”
“A delectable, enchanting servant,” he corrected, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her neck. “With a rather lovely pair of br**sts that I can’t seem to stop touching.” He reached into her modest neckline and placed a hand over her breast, delighted that her nipple hardened at his touch.
“Now you listen to me, Lord Naughty,” she said breathlessly, and squirmed away from his hand, though she turned and snuggled up against his chest. Her fingers touched his freshly shaven chin and the slight cleft there. “If you behave yourself today, I was just thinking that we might make ample use of this lovely hotel room while you have it.”
His c**k immediately hardened in his pants. “Oh?”
“Yep.” Her eyes flashed desire at him, and she lightly traced his jawline with her nails. “Think the hotel has a box of condoms we could snatch up?”
“I can’t send to the hotel for condoms,” he said hoarsely. “It’d be in every Bellissime scandal rag in the morning.”
She gave a mock pout that fascinated him, her pink lower lip gleaming and plump. “Then I guess we don’t get to have much fun tonight, do we? What a shame, because I was so looking forward to it—”
Unable to stop himself, Griffin leaned in and kissed the hell out of that sultry little mouth. Her stupid fascinator banged against his glasses, but he didn’t care. Once his lips touched hers, Maylee’s mouth was open and warm and willing, and her tongue met his with equal desire. By the time he pulled her away, she was staring up at him with a dazed look that made him want to throw her onto the bed and f**k the hell out of her, wedding be damned.
Griffin glanced over at the clock. Blast. He had to be at the royal palace within the hour. “This f**king wedding is killing me.”
She gave him a soft, sultry giggle and straightened his tie. “How about I have the driver drop you off at the palace and then I have him swing me around to the pharmacy to pick up some condoms?” Her fingers smoothed down his jacket, and then slid all the way down the front of his pants to cup his already aching erection. “Extra-large, I’m guessing?”
“You know how to flatter a man.” Griffin reluctantly removed her hand, even though he wanted to shove against it over and over until he came. “And that sounds like a lovely plan, darling. Hellish breakfast, even more hellish wedding, then f**king until dawn.”
“Until dawn?” She gave him an impressed look. “Perhaps I should buy two boxes of condoms, then.”
“Not necessary,” he told her.
“Not much stamina in the royal pole, milord?” she said in the worst copy of a British accent he’d ever heard. It was downright adorable.
He leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear. “I figure if we run out, I can just spend the rest of the evening tonguing that rather charming little pu**y of yours.”
Her sucked-in breath was extremely gratifying to hear. She whimpered. “I might need to change my panties before we go to the palace.”
“Poor baby,” he said with zero sympathy, his own c**k throbbing for release. As she hurried into the other room, he sat on the edge of the bed and began to count backward from one hundred.
When that didn’t work, he did it again.
Tonight was going to be worth every day of this ridiculous running around, he decided.
***
A short time later, they headed down to the bottom floor of the hotel. The manager met them as they emerged from the elevator, a worried frown on his face.
“Lord Montagne Verdi, there are quite a few photographers at the front of the building. I’ve arranged to have an unmarked sedan parked at the back of the hotel, and your driver is awaiting you there. If you’ll please follow me, I’ll lead you there.”
“Damn paparazzi,” Griffin said, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “Very well.”
Maylee juggled his newly dry-cleaned ceremonial jacket in her other arm, moving to Griffin’s side. “It’ll all be over with soon, Griff,” she murmured.
He shot her a look just as the manager did, but said nothing, and for a moment, she wondered what she’d done wrong. It was just nerves, she decided. Griffin hated parading around people. He was likely to get all stiff and prickly today. She would just have to ignore it and tease him about it later.