whatever he could to help her, as well.
Regardless of his rationale for assisting, she wanted to make his time here as pleasant as possible.
She had ordered breakfast as soon as she came out of her bedroom, and it now sat on a nearby serving cart, waiting to be served. She didn’t want to disturb Peter’s sleep since he had clearly stayed up late. But she also didn’t want to eat alone.
Her dilemma was resolved by the snick of the bedroom door when Peter opened it.
He stood there, sexily rumpled in loose, low-slung sweatpants that barely rode his hips and displayed too much of his rock-hard abs and those incredibly tempting V-lines at the edges of his hips.
She slowly drew in a breath to steady herself, and managed to eke out, “Good morning.”
He grinned and smoothed his sleep-tousled hair with his hand.
She ignored the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed, and hurried to the serving cart, busying herself with removing the assorted covers. “I ordered a bunch of different things. I wasn’t quite sure what you’d like.”
He came and stood behind her, peering over her shoulder from his much greater height. The warmth of his body was obvious through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. She should have changed out of her sleepwear, but then again, maybe she should ask him to put on some clothes. Only that made it far too apparent that he was affecting her.
“Relax, Tatiana,” he said, and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t bite,” he added, and the heat of his breath spilled against the side of her face.
She slipped away from him and motioned to the cart. “There are eggs, bacon, waffles, strawberries—”
“Why don’t you sit and I’ll serve, since you were nice enough to order?”
Not that ordering was such a big deal, but anything that provided some physical distance from him was a good thing.
She sat down, but as she did so, his phone chirped from the other end of the table. He hurried over, looked at it, and grimaced. “Can you excuse me for a moment?”
…
Peter returned to his bedroom, closing the door behind him for privacy.
“Good morning, Father. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” He had little doubt about the reason, however.
“It’s not normally a pleasure to see my son’s face plastered on the Internet on one of those horrible gossip sites, but I must say I was pleased to see you photographed with Princess Tatiana. Am I to assume things are good between the two of you?”
“It’s complicated, Father,” he confessed, his heart still torn about what was happening with her.
“May I assume that we can start making plans—”
“No, you may not assume. It’s way too soon, and there are still lots of things we have to settle between us.”
“Such as who you are? You’re still not living that charade—”
“It’s not a charade, it’s my life. And no, I’ve told her who I am. But we both know there is still much more about our family that she should know,” Peter replied curtly, anger boiling up in him.
His father’s annoyed laugh drifted over the line. “I’m tired and old, Pyotr. I will not wait for this wedding much longer. If I have to tell her—”
“You will not tell her, Father. That is something for me to do when the time is right.”
That bark of annoyance sounded again. “Do not wait too long, moyo syn ,” he said, but with resignation in his voice.
“I won’t. I promise.”
His father ended the call and Peter stood there for a moment, considering that promise.
Even though it would make his life difficult and risk the privacy he had worked so hard to protect, he could not deny he wanted Tatiana to care for him. But he wanted her to love the man he had become and not Pyotr the Prince. He thought they were moving in that direction if his read of her responses to him was accurate. Of course, physical attraction was a far cry from real emotion, but he thought there was progress happening on that front also.
But
Regardless of his rationale for assisting, she wanted to make his time here as pleasant as possible.
She had ordered breakfast as soon as she came out of her bedroom, and it now sat on a nearby serving cart, waiting to be served. She didn’t want to disturb Peter’s sleep since he had clearly stayed up late. But she also didn’t want to eat alone.
Her dilemma was resolved by the snick of the bedroom door when Peter opened it.
He stood there, sexily rumpled in loose, low-slung sweatpants that barely rode his hips and displayed too much of his rock-hard abs and those incredibly tempting V-lines at the edges of his hips.
She slowly drew in a breath to steady herself, and managed to eke out, “Good morning.”
He grinned and smoothed his sleep-tousled hair with his hand.
She ignored the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed, and hurried to the serving cart, busying herself with removing the assorted covers. “I ordered a bunch of different things. I wasn’t quite sure what you’d like.”
He came and stood behind her, peering over her shoulder from his much greater height. The warmth of his body was obvious through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. She should have changed out of her sleepwear, but then again, maybe she should ask him to put on some clothes. Only that made it far too apparent that he was affecting her.
“Relax, Tatiana,” he said, and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t bite,” he added, and the heat of his breath spilled against the side of her face.
She slipped away from him and motioned to the cart. “There are eggs, bacon, waffles, strawberries—”
“Why don’t you sit and I’ll serve, since you were nice enough to order?”
Not that ordering was such a big deal, but anything that provided some physical distance from him was a good thing.
She sat down, but as she did so, his phone chirped from the other end of the table. He hurried over, looked at it, and grimaced. “Can you excuse me for a moment?”
…
Peter returned to his bedroom, closing the door behind him for privacy.
“Good morning, Father. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” He had little doubt about the reason, however.
“It’s not normally a pleasure to see my son’s face plastered on the Internet on one of those horrible gossip sites, but I must say I was pleased to see you photographed with Princess Tatiana. Am I to assume things are good between the two of you?”
“It’s complicated, Father,” he confessed, his heart still torn about what was happening with her.
“May I assume that we can start making plans—”
“No, you may not assume. It’s way too soon, and there are still lots of things we have to settle between us.”
“Such as who you are? You’re still not living that charade—”
“It’s not a charade, it’s my life. And no, I’ve told her who I am. But we both know there is still much more about our family that she should know,” Peter replied curtly, anger boiling up in him.
His father’s annoyed laugh drifted over the line. “I’m tired and old, Pyotr. I will not wait for this wedding much longer. If I have to tell her—”
“You will not tell her, Father. That is something for me to do when the time is right.”
That bark of annoyance sounded again. “Do not wait too long, moyo syn ,” he said, but with resignation in his voice.
“I won’t. I promise.”
His father ended the call and Peter stood there for a moment, considering that promise.
Even though it would make his life difficult and risk the privacy he had worked so hard to protect, he could not deny he wanted Tatiana to care for him. But he wanted her to love the man he had become and not Pyotr the Prince. He thought they were moving in that direction if his read of her responses to him was accurate. Of course, physical attraction was a far cry from real emotion, but he thought there was progress happening on that front also.
But
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