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Rowan
We driveto a private airfield a short distance away from the train station where I arrived. The Prince slips his hand out of mine when the car stops, and I immediately miss his closeness. My fingers tingle where they touched his skin, and I remember what it felt like to be in his arms.
It felt good. And right. And real. As much as I try to deny it, I love having him beside me.
The Prince puts his hand on my lower back as we walk toward a private jet, flight attendants waiting at the bottom and top of the stairs to help us on board. The Prince’s huge, pale-eyed bodyguard follows us, carrying my bags toward the plane.
When we get inside, my breath catches. I’ve never been in a private jet before—obviously.
It’s massive. We’re greeted with a fully stocked bar and kitchen. Beyond, two huge chairs are set up on one side, with a big L-shaped couch on the other. And farther still, beyond a small partition, a king-sized bed takes up the far end of the cabin.
My heart thumps at the sight of the bed. I know the flight to Stirling is only about an hour, but the thought of sleeping with the Prince is still fresh in my mind.
I sit down on one of the individual seats. I’m given a glass of champagne and a selection of hors d’oeuvres. Nuts, lox, and even a decadent chocolate truffle.
The Prince watches me from the long sofa, a grin teasing at his lips.
“What?” I ask, glaring.
“You look completely out of your element.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Just enjoy it, Rowan.”
Ugh, I love the way he says my name. I never want him to stop. I want to hear it whispered, gruff and low in my ear. I want to hear him say it softly as he wraps his arms around me. I want to hear him grunt it as he spills his orgasm inside me.
No. Stop.
I can’t think that way. That was a one-time thing. It’s not going to happen again.
I’m here for work. That’s all.
We settle in for take-off. Eyvar disappears into a door near the front of the plane, and I realize there’s a whole other, smaller, self-contained apartment up there. The flight attendants serve us more drinks—I opt for water, since I don’t trust myself with alcohol around the Prince anymore. The staff then disappears behind a door on the other side of the kitchen.
“Have you made any progress on the design?” he asks after takeoff.
Good. Work—that’s a safe topic.
I take a sip of water before answering. “I have. I think you’ll like the new iteration. Or at least, I hope so.” I smile, watching his eyes flick down to my lips.
Why does that make heat curl around my abdomen? Why do I never want him to stop looking at me like that?
My heart thumps, and I clear my throat. “This plane is incredible. It’s nicer than my place in Farcliff.”
The Prince makes a soft noise in response, his eyes still tracing the lines of my lips. His gaze runs down the length of my body, sending fire spilling through my veins.
Yes, I like that. I like when he looks at me. When we’re alone, with no one else to see us, I think I like it a bit too much. I turn to the window to watch the clouds rush by. It’s safer that way.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks after a few minutes.
I frown, glancing at him. “No. Why?”
“You seem to want to stay as far away from me as possible.”
“Do you remember what happened last time I let myself get near you?”
His smile widens. “How could I forget?”
