A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,95

falling short.

Regardless of his feelings on the matter, though, Marie should know that expecting an orgasm out of sex was not an outlandish demand. “What the hell were those Casanovas from your past doing? Besides selling you out to the school newspaper?” She made a noncommittal murmur. He could imagine what they’d been doing. “I’m no rocket scientist, but even I know that most women can’t come from a guy just hammering away at them with his dick.”

“Hmm.”

He rolled onto his side. “What?”

She smiled. “I’m thinking about the image that conjures. A man hammering away at a woman with his dick. I think I’d like to try that.”

“It’s supposed to be a negative example.”

“Still. A little controlled experiment might be fun, no? Besides, I am confident you would find a way. You seem to have a talent for multitasking.”

He shook his head. “You are something else, Princess.”

“I should stop calling you that,” Leo said, examining Marie from above—he’d propped his head on one hand, and she was flat on her back. She wasn’t sure she could move her limbs yet.

“No you shouldn’t,” she said automatically.

“But the whole point of our thing is that I don’t give a shit that you’re a princess. So why do I keep calling you that?”

“It’s a term of endearment, I think.” Was that the right word? She was conscious of the fact that she didn’t want him to feel trapped, as though she had expectations of him, but she liked him, and she was pretty sure he liked her, too. “I think you would call me Princess if I was a . . . banker. Or a teacher.”

“That’s . . . true.” He looked surprised at that interpretation.

“I think it’s also a little dirty, sometimes. I think you like the idea of sullying me.”

“Hmm.” His brow furrowed. “That’s also true.” He tucked some hair behind her ear, and the gesture felt almost unbearably tender. “But not because you’re a princess.”

“No,” she agreed. “Because I’m a little . . . wound up.”

The confusion left his face then, chased off by a wicked smile. “Yes. And I enjoy unwinding you.”

“So don’t stop.” Please don’t stop.

“Unwinding you?”

“Unwinding me, yes, but calling me Princess, too. I like it when you call me Princess.”

“Okay. But you know I’m not going to do it now because that would be too much like obeying a royal proclamation, right?”

She laughed. “Of course.”

He kept his fingers in her hair, playing with it, undoing the putting-to-rights he’d done a moment ago.

“Thank you, Leo.”

“Are you thanking me for having sex with you? Because I can assure you, it was my pleasure.”

She was, but really, she meant it more holistically. “For everything. For coming here. For putting up with my father. For the cabin.”

“About that. I’m not going to be able to get more than the rudimentary structure done before I leave. But if you can get it past your father, you could have Kai put in windows and floors. And we’re leaving a spot where a wood-burning stove could vent.”

Marie hated to think of Leo not being around to see the finished cabin. She was going to furnish it in the summer, too, she’d decided, her father be damned. Make it fully functional. Maybe she’d even figure out a way to spend a night there.

“How did you get interested in architecture?” she asked, suddenly curious.

He rolled over and stared at the ceiling. She, having got control of her limbs, rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin on his chest, worrying belatedly that maybe she was getting too cozy. But his arms came immediately around her and he started playing with her hair again as he spoke.

“I told you I used to work construction?” She nodded. “It was what my dad did. So he would get me on his crews in the summers, when I was in high school. I thought it was interesting. The way a building comes together physically from what starts out as a plan on paper—and before that, just an idea in someone’s head. I always assumed I’d follow him into the business full-time, but when he got wind of that he read me the riot act. Pointed out all his injuries and maladies—it was true that his back was all screwed up from that job. He said he hadn’t worked so hard his whole life so his kids could do manual labor. He marched me into the high-school guidance counsellor, and before I knew it I’d been set up to job-shadow