Page 24 of Prince Material (The Prince Pact #2)
“Thank you for wanting to see it.” I leaned into his touch slightly. “Most people don’t understand why I love it here.”
“I do.” His voice was soft. “It’s part of who you are, like the canals and dikes are part of who I am. These places shape us, make us who we are.”
I looked at him then and felt that now-familiar ache. How had this prince, with his designer clothes and royal pedigree, come to understand me so well? How had he slipped past all my carefully constructed defenses?
“What?” he asked, noticing my intense stare.
I struggled to find the right words. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real. That you’re here, in my swamp, holding my hand and actually getting why this place matters.”
His smile was soft, genuine in a way his public ones rarely were. “Where else would I want to be?”
And maybe it was the magic of the bayou, or the way the morning light caught his eyes, or that I was tired of fighting what I felt, but I kissed him. Right there on the boardwalk, surrounded by ancient cypress trees and Spanish moss, I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his.
He made a surprised sound that quickly melted into something softer as he kissed me back. His free hand came up to cup my face, and everything else fell away—my fears, my doubts, all of it gone in the warmth of his touch.
When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were bright with joy and something deeper that made my heart race. “So much for taking it slow,” he teased, but his voice was breathless.
“Shut up,” I muttered, heat creeping up my neck. “You were looking at me with those eyes, and I…”
“These eyes?” He batted his eyelashes exaggeratedly, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, sending shivers down my spine. “You like me.”
“God help me, I do.” The admission felt like letting go of a weight I hadn’t known I was carrying. “I really do.”
Floris’s smile was radiant. “Good, because I really like you too. In case that wasn’t obvious from all the terrible flirting and lingering looks.”
“Was that what those were? I thought you were having vision problems.”
He laughed, the sound echoing across the water. “See? This is why I like you. You can match my snark step for step.”
A nearby splash made us both jump, probably an alligator sliding into the water. The sound brought me back to reality. We were still standing on a public boardwalk, though thankfully alone for the moment.
“We should head back,” I said reluctantly. “Mom will be wondering where we are. ”
“Right.” But Floris didn’t move, his hand still warm against my cheek. “One more thing.”
“What?”
He kissed me again, soft and quick. “That. For the road.”
My heart did that complicated flutter thing again. “You’re going to make it very hard to concentrate on driving.”
“Good.” His grin was mischievous. “Though I promise to behave. Mostly.”
The drive back was different from the drive out—charged with possibility but comfortable too, like we’d crossed some invisible threshold into new territory that somehow felt familiar.
Floris kept hold of my hand whenever I didn’t need it for driving, his thumb tracing patterns on my palm that made it hard to focus on the road.
“So,” he said as we neared home, “what are we going to tell your mom?”
I tensed slightly. “About…?”
“This.” He squeezed my hand. “Us. Whatever we’re becoming.”
The question made my chest tight with familiar anxiety, but Floris just waited, patient and steady beside me. “Can we… Can we keep it between us for now?” I asked finally. “Not because I’m ashamed or anything, but…”
“Because you need time to process?” His voice was gentle, understanding. “We can do that. Like I said, we’ll go as slow as you need.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thank you.”
“Though I should warn you,” he added with a grin, “I’m terrible at hiding how I feel about you. Your mom’s probably already figured it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Orson.” His tone was fondly exasperated. “I’ve been staring at you like you hung the moon since I got here. I’m pretty sure the alligators noticed, and they’re not exactly known for their emotional intelligence.”
Heat crept up my neck. “You have not.”
“I absolutely have. Remember at breakfast when I passed you the coffee and nearly knocked over the orange juice because I was too busy watching you push your hair out of your eyes?”
“That was…” I trailed off, remembering. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” His thumb traced circles on my palm. “I’m surprised the whole state of Louisiana hasn’t noticed how gone I am on you.”
My heart did that flutter thing again. “Gone on me?”
“Completely.” His voice was soft but certain. “Have been for a while now.”
We pulled into the driveway, and I put the car in park but made no move to get out. “How long is a while?”
He was quiet for an uncharacteristically long time.
Then he finally said, “Probably since the day we explored Worcester together, when you got so excited about that old concert hall. Your whole face lit up talking about the architecture, and I remember thinking I’d never seen anything more beautiful. ”
My breath caught. “That long?”
“Yeah.” His thumb traced another pattern on my palm. “Though I think I fell a little bit more every time you helped me with calculus, or reminded me to get my laundry, or just… existed in my space. You kind of snuck up on me, Orson Ritchey.”
I turned to look at him properly, taking in his earnest expression, the way the afternoon sun caught his eyes.
“You snuck up on me too,” I admitted quietly.
“I had all these walls, all these reasons why I couldn’t let anyone get too close.
And then you walked right through them with your terrible jokes and your genuine interest in water management and your way of making everything brighter. ”
His smile was soft, intimate. “So what you’re saying is, I wore you down with my charm?”
“More like your persistence.” But I was smiling too. “And maybe a little bit your charm.”