Chapter 1 Erik #2
I twist, sitting up to watch them walk away. There’s no need to do so; they’re not doing anything interesting. But if I look back at the shore, Logan Anderson will yet again be in my field of vision. And the swim trunks I’m wearing make it difficult to hide my lustful feelings.
I pick up my drink and take a long sip. It helps quench one kind of thirst. But not the more urgent one.
I shouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking. My mind shouldn’t be filled with images of Logan’s gorgeous ass, full lips, and muscles that show off a lifetime of strength training.
I should be focused on relaxing, because it’s going to be a week of public appearances.
Tomorrow I’m scheduled to appear at the Australia Zoo, where I’m going to hold a koala.
Since we have precisely two koalas in Sweden—the pair at Skansen in Stockholm, neither of whom I’ve ever touched—that’ll be a first. I hope I don’t get chlamydia.
The following day, we have a trip to Sydney with a full schedule, including the Opera House. I’m not a fan of the opera, although I’m supposed to be.
Then there’s the Grand Prix to watch Jasper race. I detest loud noises and fast cars. But I must support my brother. All in all, I’m here for ten days.
And every one of those ten days will be torture, with Logan being so close and yet so far.
As if he hears my thoughts, Logan draws nearer to the cabana where I’m still lounging, and my body reacts—all nerve endings on fire and my arousal growing.
He’s an American with Swedish parents, and he served in the United States Army before he went into private security.
He looks like a combination of his parents, a former Mr. Universe and a beauty queen.
His dark hair is cropped close. He has stubble on his cheeks.
He’s got very light eyes that contrast with his naturally dark tan skin.
His eyes aren’t quite blue. More a washed-out blue-grey-green.
And his every move has been the bane of my existence since my childhood bodyguard retired.
“It’s time to meet your new bodyguard,” Peter, my chief of staff, had said.
I entered a drawing room of the palace in Stockholm and was confronted with this massive presence: broad shoulders and arm muscles.
Logan’s hair and beard were dark, neat, and short, and his bright eyes intelligent.
That day he was wearing black slacks with a belt and a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off arms covered in tattoos.
Unfortunately.
I’ve never had a reaction to a man like the one I had to him. I couldn’t speak. I used my ingrained haughtiness to cover the fact that I had absolutely no fucking idea what to say to a man who looked like a boulder and smiled like a teddy bear.
Right now, he’s moved closer, and my dick has gotten plumper. I’m going to be tenting my shorts in a moment here. I reach for a towel and remember I threw it at Jasper, who left it out of my reach.
“I need to cool off,” I blurt, and take off down the sand, my dick uncomfortably hard.
“Wait, there’s a red flag warning for a riptide,” Logan calls, following me.
“I won’t go far,” I call over my shoulder. “Besides, they wouldn’t put a resort in a dangerous area.”
Australia is dangerous, my mother says.
But it’s not true. I looked it up, and in the past 100 years there haven’t been that many deaths from jellyfish attacks. The stories about spiders and snakes are doubtless equally overblown.
I just want to cool off—and make my hardening cock go back into its snail shell. I’ll get back out right away.
“Your Highness. Prince Erik, you really shouldn’t,” Logan says, keeping pace with me.
I feel his presence, his big body overwhelming me, and my breathing speeds up. It’s all I can do not to turn around and throw myself at him. “It’s fine. Leave me.”
His footsteps falter, and I glance over my shoulder. He opens his mouth to protest, but looks around and nods. There are lifeguards. No one’s swimming here, but I see people in the water a short distance to the north. It will be fine.
Plus, Logan is my employee and must do as I say.
What I say is: Let me swim.
Let me get away from you.
Please.
I wade into the ocean, and the cool water immediately shocks my aroused body into being less obvious. I go in waist-deep as fast as I can. The chill makes my balls pull into my body. Exactly as I wanted.
I let out a sigh of relief.
Back on the shore, Logan’s watching me, talking into his microphone. He looks exasperated.
I dunk my head in all the way and start to paddle around. Someone calls out, but it’s hard to hear over the sound of the water. I’ll just come back in. I go to stand up, but before my feet touch the sand, there’s a searing pain on my shin. “Ow!” I yelp.
I glance down, realizing I’m in much deeper water than I thought.
A pinkish-purple blob with tentacles is gathered by my leg. A jellyfish.
My heartbeat zooms, and I can feel my pulse in my neck. This had better not be one of the dangerous ones.
Get me out of here.
I start swimming as hard as I can, even though my leg is on fire.
Except …
I’ve somehow come into an area of much darker water.
As I kick and do my best to get to the shallows, the current only takes me farther away from where I need to be.
I’m starting to hyperventilate, and I might be close to passing out from the pain in my leg. My entire body seizes up, then starts shaking, my tremors uncontrollable.
I squeeze my eyes shut and reach for something, anything, to bring me back to shore. My pulse is thrashing in my ears, and my thighs are weakening. The pain is excruciating.
As I beat against the current, I get a glimpse of Logan’s panicked expression as he sprints down the beach. And then I go under, the salt water stinging my eyes. I can’t breathe. There’s nothing but salt water and pain.
Fuck.