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I growled and rolled on top of him. “I won’t get up until you confess how much you love me.”
“Or what?” Ciaran said with a wicked grin. His legs parted for me. He wasn’t fully erect, but when his hardening length twitched next to mine, I let out a groan. “Will Prince Matty’s manservant march up here to whip me?”
“Yes,” I said before capturing his lips for a long kiss. Ciaran’s arms wound around me, pulling me tight, his fingernails digging into my lower back, which was now becoming a habit. “But not today. Manservants around the world always get today off.”
“So it’s up to you to extract this love confession out of me, huh? How do you plan to do that, Matty?”
Ciaran arched up into me. The fabric between us caused the right amount of friction to jump-start my erection. Sparks of pleasure raced up my spine, but I knew we couldn’t lie in bed all day.
“Torture you, of course.”
“Ah, so you’re going to try to teach me how to surf again?” He laughed even as his stomach rumbled with hunger.
Smiling like an idiot, I gazed into Ciaran’s cobalt-blue eyes and fell even deeper into love. How had I gotten so lucky? Yes, we each had work to do, and not everyone would be so understanding of our relationship, but as long as we were a unit, Ciaran and I could withstand almost anything the world threw our way.
“Yes,” I said. “But first I dare you to let me feed you and kiss you and annoy the hell out of you by all the touching I plan to do.”
“Well, in that case, there’s no doubt I’ll cave and tell you how much I love you.”
“Way to spoil the ending,” I joked.
Ciaran let out a bark of laughter even as the love he felt for me came through loud and clear.
I looked at my boyfriend the way my dad looked at his bride, like I was a besotted fool so deeply in love that I wanted the entire world to know about it.
I led Ciaran from the bedroom and did all the tortuous things I promised to do to him, and he did, indeed, tell me how much he loved me.
FIVE WEEKS LATER
CIARAN
Matty has hot friends who have hot cars, right?
That was a message from Rowen in the group chat with my friends. I was sitting on the veranda being utterly useless while everyone else around me was productive.
Some of Matty’s swim team will be at my birthday bash, I wrote back, my fingers flying over my phone. A few of them have exotic cars.
Rowen sent back a thumbs up emoji.
This was the weekend that Matty would finally meet my friends in person. On top of that, I’d be meeting Matty’s older brother, Dante, after he flew in from Singapore tonight.
Needless to say, my nerves were on high alert. Like, the highest. The party planners my mom hired were moving around the property like soldiers defending a fortress. Franky was baking up a storm in the guesthouse kitchen while Filipe, who’d ordained himself the grill master of ceremonies, was already on the premises, setting up. It was barely ten in the morning.
An hour ago, Davies informed me that the Vaulteneau jet had touched down at LAX.
My friends would be here shortly.
I wanted to go wait by the gate for them, but Matty laughed and said, “I mean, you can if you want, but it’s at least a forty-five-minute drive, babe.”
So I didn’t loiter at the gate, even though I wanted to, even though there were a million things to do before my friends got here. Instead I sat on the veranda watching everyone else.
At least the weather was perfect. It was warm and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky.
Franky must have felt sorry for me because she placed freshly brewed hot coffee and a toasted bagel smothered with her homemade cream cheese on the table in front of me.
“Stop fidgeting, belated-birthday boy,” Franky admonished with a wink. Her abundant red hair was piled high on the top of her head, a sure sign that she was in boss mode. “It’s making me nervous.”
“Thanks, Franky.” I took a sip of her heavenly coffee and mumbled, “Mmm…so good.”
