Royally Claimed by Marie Donovan Page B

appreciatively. “What is that amazing smell?” He was amazing himself in a plain black T-shirt, khaki work pants and heavy workboots, which he toed off and left at the doormat. The T-shirt outlined all his chest muscles and he looked like a sexy, brawny construction worker.
    â€œCoffee, French toast and I’ll make you an omeletif you’d like.” It was so cozy and domestic that she couldn’t stop grinning.
    â€œJulia, you are a wonder.” He caught her around the waist and kissed her. “Good morning, my darling.”
    She felt herself blush. “Good morning, honey.” She hadn’t used an endearment with anyone in years and it sounded stilted on her tongue, but he didn’t notice and beamed at her.
    â€œOh, the French toast!” She rescued it just in time to flip and he poured them both a cup of coffee. “How did the island do with the storm?”
    â€œEh, we didn’t do too badly.” She thought it was cute how he referred to himself and the island as a pair. “Some branches down, a door blown off a garden shed, but I got the electricity going again.”
    â€œIsn’t that dangerous?”
    He shrugged. “I’ve done it many times. No big deal.”
    He’d think it was a big deal if he got shocked, but try telling him that now. She shook her head and pulled the French toast off, popping it into the oven to keep warm. “Ready for an omelet?”
    â€œAlways.” He grinned at her and raised his cup of coffee in a toast.
    A couple minutes later, they were sitting at the center island eating breakfast together. Maple syrup wasn’t a staple in Portuguese houses, so they used local honey and jam for the French toast instead. “I really like pineapple jam on this,” she told him, cutting a bite.
    He grabbed her wrist and ate the bread off her fork. “I agree.”
    She shook her head in amusement and cut another piece. “Eat your own food. Didn’t I make enough?”
    â€œIt tastes better coming from you.” His big brown eyes melted her heart.
    She sliced a bit of omelet and offered it to him. “Delicious,” he said, after chewing and swallowing. “Here.” He gave her some French toast with orange marmalade and honey. The tartness and sweetness mixed perfectly.
    They fed each other the rest of breakfast. Julia dabbed at the corner of his mouth with her napkin. “You have honey here.”
    â€œSo do you.”
    â€œI do?” She touched her mouth.
    â€œPure honey. But not from the jar.” He moved her hand away and kissed her.
    He cleared the dishes into the sink with a rattle and set her on the wood table. “All throughout breakfast, I’ve been watching your breasts sway, your dark nipples hardening against the fabric when you fed me.” He slid his hand up her blouse and smiled when he found her bare breast. “Naughty Julia, where is your bra?”
    She gestured helplessly at the tumbled blankets on the floor. “I couldn’t find it.”
    â€œI’m not complaining.” He unbuttoned her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders.
    She automatically covered herself, not being used to daytime nudity. He made a chiding sound and pulled her arms away. “You’re equally beautiful in the sun as the firelight.” He rested his cheek against her heart. His hair was warm and silky on her skin. Her arms came around him and she twined a black wave around her finger. He smelled of wind and water and his own unmistakable spicy scent.
    â€œOh, Julia.” He turned his face and kissed her breast. “Let me please you.”
    â€œYou already do,” she murmured. She felt him smile against her skin.
    â€œA few years ago, I found several personal diaries of the previous Dukes of Santas Aguas. They discovered rather interesting ways to pass the time when they visited this island.”
    â€œThey took up tennis?” she quipped.
    He