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Silas laughs, shrugging. “She’s just an old cougar. She likes flirting with me.”
“She said you helped create a new curriculum for the Farcliff Learning Center and even sponsored a new photography class.”
He slides his hand over my back, spreading heat across my skin. My breath catches, but I just wait for the Prince to speak.
“I guess you could say that’s a pet project of mine.” He glances at me, winking. “I’ve had so many specialists work with me that I have extensive experience with what works and what doesn’t in terms of learning disabilities. I just try to share that information with people who need it. I have the money to do it, so why not? And photography was the only thing that felt natural to me, so I figured there might be other kids out there like me, too.”
My throat grows tight. “I think I’ve judged you a bit harshly, Silas.”
His arm drops from my back, hand finding mine. When his fingers thread through my own, it feels so natural that I don’t resist. We walk in silence for a while, all the way down to the bank of Farcliff Lake. There’s a small bench beside a pier, so we sit down. Moonlight reflects on the still water, our breath escaping in small white puffs—but I don’t feel cold. With the Prince beside me and his jacket on my shoulders, the only thing I feel is heat.
“Like I said,” he finally answers, “I don’t like talking about it.”
“People wouldn’t call you the playboy prince if they knew what you were doing for children with learning disabilities.”
“They’d think it was just another royal endeavor. They wouldn’t understand that I actually care. If I do it in the background, it feels more…honest, in a way.” He turns to face me, resting his arm across the back of the bench. Every movement brings us closer together. When I shift on the bench, my thigh touches his. When I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my arm notches into the crook of his shoulder. It’s like with every movement, every moment, we find ourselves drawn to each other.
With Silas’s arm on the back of the bench, this feels…intimate. His fingers trace small circles over the shoulder of his jacket, still wrapped tightly around my body.
“You’re not dumb, you know.” I turn to face him.
“How would you know?”
“Well, I’ve spent a bit of time with you. I’ve seen how you navigate these parties and situations. You’re incredibly intuitive.”
“Doesn’t mean I can read without needing special font and about ten times as long as a normal person would need.”
My heart clenches. As I stare at this man—strong, handsome, privileged—I see his weakness for the first time. His struggles. I see him as a person and not a symbol of the monarchy. Reaching a hand up to his face, I let my fingers drift over his cheek and up to his temple. “I saw the photos you auctioned off at that photography exhibition.”
Silas, who had closed his eyes when I touched him, opens them again. “That was ten years ago.”
“You’re very talented.”
“How did you find those?”
My lips quirk. “Maybe I have been reading up on you a bit more than I’ve admitted.”
A smile ghosts over his lips, and he shifts his body closer to mine. I feel the heat of his body like a bonfire. The whole side of me is pressed against him. We’re alone here, in the gardens, with nothing but the trees and moonlight for company.
I shouldn’t be here—and I definitely shouldn’t be alone with the Prince—but I can’t help shoving all my hesitations aside. I can go back to my work tomorrow and submit articles to my boss for publication. I can document the royal tour like I’m supposed to, but tonight…
Maybe tonight, I could just be a woman in a beautiful dress sitting beside the only man who makes her heart thump. Tonight, he could be more than just a prince with me. We could be open with each other. Honest.
“Jazz,” Silas says, his voice nothing more than a rasp.
“Yeah?” My heart beats harder at the heat in his eyes.
He drops his gaze to my lips, then closes his lids as if he needs to compose himself. The hand on my shoulder tightens around me, and I find myself falling against his chest. “Tell me I can kiss you right now,” he begs.
I should say no. I’m on this tour for work, and my job is to criticize the royal family. To promote my stance on the abolition of the monarchy.
But we’re so alone here, and the Prince is so different from what I’d imagined. I’ve spent the past few weeks fighting my attraction to him, and I…I’m tired. And really, really horny. And damn it, I just want to kiss the man and feel like a woman, for once.
So, gulping, I dip my chin. “I’d like that,” I whisper.
The Prince’s tongue slides out to lick his bottom lip, and I swear—I swear—my panties are drenched within a second. I let my hand slide over his chest, running my fingertips over the little strip of skin at his neck.
I don’t care that he’s my sworn enemy. I don’t care that I shouldn’t be here. I need to kiss this man. I need to feel his lips on mine. I need—
