Page 117 of Fly's Path

“Woman, don’t distract me.”

A giggle bursts out of me. Why does this man make me feel silly, shy, bold, brash, and completely consumed with one single look? “I’ll work hard on doing it again.”

He grins. “I’d expect nothing less from ‘my’ royal highness.”

“Is that your way of calling me a princess?”

“That’s my way of calling you mine.”

“You want to own me?”

“I want you so obsessed with me that I’m the only man you can think of. The only man that makes you smile. The only man you see when you close your eyes at night. The first thing you see when you open them in the morning.”

My jaw drops open.

“Too honest, too soon?”

Oh yeah. I nod.

“Does it make you want to run?”

It should, but all I want to do is curl up in his arms and sleep. “No.”

“Good. Because I’m going to set you down right here and get a few supplies for us.” He gently places me down on a double lounge chair. “Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” He kisses my forehead and walks off.

Fly in a pinstripe suit and wingtips…well, that’s a sight to make a girl’s heart stop. Fly walking away in that same tailored suit…should be criminal. It’s an unfair advantage. No man should look that good.

When he disappears from view, I actually look around at the grotto he dropped me in. It doesn’t exactly give rustic castle vibes, but the stonework all around is lovely. The chair is mostly hidden from view, but if I sit up really tall, I can see little bits of the pool and hot tub. Who has a heated pool up north in the middle of winter? With all the steam coming off of it, it’s easy to believe that it’s warm enough to go for a swim.

The thing people forget about is the dash from the warm pool back into the house. It will feel like the coldest three minutes…or possibly longer in this case.

Not having running water down south made for quite a few of those mad dashes. Every time I regretted not taking a sponge bath or just going dirty for far too long. Would I regret taking a dip in this pool with Fly?

Don’t even think about it. That’s not an option.

I curl up on the lounge chair and wait for him to come back.

***

“Don’t tell me you’re already sleeping over there.” Fly’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Just resting my eyes.” They fight me opening them, though. “What did you get us?”

“First, a few blankets.”

“Blankets?”

“We’re going to need them for our nap.”

“But we’re at a party. We can’t nap.” That would be rude.

“Neither of us have slept. And you’re exhausted. We’re going to nap.” He tosses the fluffy blankets across the lounger one by one. “But before we nap, we snack.” The platter—it’s way too big to be considered a plate—he sets down carefully before sinking down next to me, is filled sky-high with every imaginable treat.

The fresh fruit is so pretty. It has me practically drooling. “We shouldn’t eat all their food and then take a nap. It’s a party. They’re expecting us to participate.”

“And we will. After our nap.” He plucks a grape and lifts it to my lips. “Now eat.”

“As long as we participate.” It’s hard to talk around the smooth, cold orb.