Chapter 18 #2
He stands, careful to avoid tipping the canoe. His movements are fluid and graceful, and I’m reminded that although he is kind and doesn’t look menacing, he is still a High Prince, and that means he is a trained warrior from birth.
He removes his leather shoes, then his socks, dropping each one to the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, watching every movement.
“I’m going to get the picnic basket,” he says as if that explains why he’s undressing.
Oh no…He’s not about to jump in the lake, is he?
He slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt, each movement revealing another slip of perfectly tanned and chiseled skin. He finishes unbuttoning the shirt and shrugs it off. I count six individual abs on his perfectly chiseled stomach. My mouth dries.
Then, he starts to tug down his pants. My cheeks flame, and I avert my gaze. I was not expecting to see him—or anyone, for that matter—strip today.
The canoe wobbles, and I turn my head back in time to see him dive into the water. His powerful figure cuts through the surface as he swims to the embankment in a few strokes.
He hops out of the water, and I can’t help but admire the view. His toned back glistens in the sun, beads of water clinging to his skin. A drop of water trails down his back and to his firm backside. He turns, and I snap my gaze back up.
He holds the picnic basket raised in one hand, like there was a race to grab it and he won the prize.
“How are you going to get it back over here?” I call to him. He winks at me, then floats the basket over to the canoe. “You can’t be serious,” I say. “You could’ve just done that from the beginning!”
“Well then I wouldn’t have had a reason to give you a show,” he says innocently as he floats the picnic basket to me and gently sets it on the floor of the canoe.
I can’t help the laughter that erupts from my mouth. He smiles in return, then dives back into the water and swims back to the canoe. He hauls himself up from the side, miraculously not flipping the canoe in the process.
He summons wind and dries himself before reaching over and pulling a blanket from the picnic basket and draping it across his lap. I pull out a bottle of champagne and two glasses, then pop the bottle and pour the foaming alcohol into each glass.
“I’m sorry if I scared you by bringing you here. I hope I made up for it with my antics,” he says, glancing at me over the rim of his glass, a soft smile on his face. He looks almost bashful, and my stomach does a flip.
Oh, fuck it.
I set my glass down and lean across the canoe, pressing my lips to his. The canoe wobbles beneath us, but I don’t care.
I surprise him, and it takes him a second to respond.
When he does, he wraps his free hand around the back of my neck and opens his mouth, his tongue brushing against my lips.
I open my mouth in welcome, and his tongue swirls around mine.
My mind goes hazy at the feel. I want to get lost in the salty, sweet taste of him.
I run my hand through his hair, his blond locks soft on my fingers.
He closes his mouth over mine and opens it back up.
I match his movements, and our tongues collide again.
My body is already tingling. I start to inch closer, wanting to press my body to his, but he pulls away.
His hand is still clasped around the back of my neck, but his mouth is no longer pressing against mine.
I open my eyes and look down, his smile only inches from my own.
“Mae,” he says, his voice low and rough. “Need I remind you that we’re in the middle of a lake?”
I clear my throat and try to move away, but he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he says, “As much as I would like to lay you down on this blanket, I don’t think that’s a smart move.” I nod, my lips dying to be against him. Reluctantly, I pull away from him again. This time, he lets me go.
“Sorry,” I say, giving him a half-smile.
He meets the smile and says, “Oh, don’t apologize.”
He offers me his hand, and I take it in mine. He helps me stand, then gently pulls me to rest against his chest, cradled between his legs.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” I say as I stare across the lake, marveling at the crystalline water.
“When Ivan first told me about this place, I came to scope it out. It feels magical, doesn’t it? It felt like the perfect spot for a first date with the female I’m courting to marry.”
His words ring true, and butterflies take flight, swift and sudden, fluttering straight to my heart.
Oh. I think I might actually like August.
“We don’t have anything like this in the City of Snow,” he continues, “Or, if we do, it’s frozen over for most of the year.”
“What’s your favorite thing about the City of Snow?” I ask.
“The views,” he says. “We have these massive mountain ranges, and the views are incredible. You can see everything from the peaks.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “I’d love to show you someday.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, staring at the sky through the canopy of trees, watching as it turns from blue to shades of orange and pink, then finally to the dark blue of the night sky.
As the night goes on, we talk about the small things like our hobbies and favorite foods, before moving on to the big things like our past relationships and our families.
After the sun sets, we lay in the canoe and gaze at the stars while we talk, his arms wrapped around me, my head resting on his chest.
“I had a great time today, Mae,” he says softly, my name on his mouth sweet like honey.
“Me, too,” I respond.
I’m surprised to learn that I mean it.