Page 43 of Fake Dating the Prince

Brayden couldn’t tell a lot of things.

Whatwasthis trip, really? Could it just be a makeup for the unchaperoned sightseeing Brayden had given up? Surely they could have done something similar in Lyngria, without all this trouble. But maybe Flip thought that wasn’t good enough, and since he had a fair amount of wealth at his disposal, he decided on a grand gesture?

Or maybe Brayden’s instinct that morning had been correct and Flip wanted to get in his pants.

The door opened, breaking Brayden out of his contemplation, and Flip buckled in and put the car in gear before glancing over at Brayden. “Ready?”

No.Brayden’s heart was beating too fast. Out loud he said, “Absolutely.”

The hotel was located at the top of a fell dotted with snow-covered pines. They passed the snowmobile on its return trip, and then Flip slowed the SUV in front of a small building with the number 3 embossed on the door. He pulled into a parking place that mostly consisted of a spot of cleared-away snow and turned off the engine.

Then he handed Brayden the key and briefly curled Brayden’s hand around it before he let go. “After you.”

The wind outside was as bitter as it had been at the airport. Fortunately, though, the key turned easily in the lock, and Brayden stepped inside.

The little cabin was warm enough that Brayden immediately unzipped his coat. He left his shoes on the drying rack near the door. Off to one side was a small, modern kitchenette with a sleek coffee maker that looked like it cost more than the snowmobile he’d seen earlier. To the other was a wooden door that smelled of spruce.

A thick curtain separated the small entry area from the larger space, probably to keep anyone still in bed warm should the exterior door open. Brayden swept it aside—

And raised his hand to his mouth.

All of Lapland and half the sky seemed to spread out in front of him—snow-covered trees and twinkling stars and the quarter moon. A huge glass dome formed an igloo over a luxuriously appointed bed, and an intimate seating area framed a fireplace set into one of the walls. Rich, thick area rugs covered the floor.

Brayden let it pull him in and trailed his fingers over surprisingly warm glass. The walls featured unobtrusive curtains, currently pulled back to make the most of the view, but they didn’t reach all the way to the ceiling—someone could watch the aurora while lying in bed and still have complete privacy. Though really, the igloo was angled such that even standing in the middle of the room, Brayden couldn’t see into any of the neighboring buildings.

That would come in handy if he wanted to take a bath, since the giant tub stood just a few feet to the left of the fireplace. No point in modesty here. If someone brought you to this place, they definitely wanted to have sex with you.

Brayden swallowed that thought and continued exploring.

The bathroom was just off the kitchen—a toilet and glass shower stall, with a sturdy vanity made of the same solid spruce he’d noticed earlier, its countertop stained a rich brown and lacquered until it gleamed.

Brayden touched that too.

When he looked up, he saw Flip behind him in the mirror. He’d taken off his parka and gloves and boots, and now stood in a burgundy sweater and fine gray wool pants, staring at Brayden with naked affection and no small amount of desire. Brayden could relate.

Time seemed to stretch out. This was his moment—whatever he did next would dictate how far he fell and how hard. He could still turn and run. Flip would give him space.

But God, Brayden didn’t want it. He wanted to feel it all—every moment, every rush of oxytocin and the inevitable crush of heartbreak. He wanted Flip to crowd him in here and turn him around. He wanted to be kissed on that bed, on the floor in front of the fireplace. He wanted to go back to Lyngria and spend his life on Flip’s arm, at Flip’s side, across from him on the dance floor. He wanted—

“Brayden,” Flip said, halfway across the tiny bathroom now, and Brayden turned around and kissed him.

Right away Flip made a noise of frustrated desire into his mouth. His hands went first to Brayden’s face and cupped it while he teased open Brayden’s lips and swept his tongue inside. Then, while Brayden’s brain lit up at the thorough exploration, while he tried to keep his feet as his knees wobbled, Flip ran his hands down his shoulders and up underneath Brayden’s sweater.

Brayden’s coat still hung open, and he shrugged it off. A second later those hands smoothed down his ass, kneaded once, and then hooked under Brayden’s thighs and lifted.

Brayden wrapped his legs around Flip’s waist and his arms around his shoulders as Flip walked the two steps, set Brayden down on the bathroom counter, and released his mouth to fasten his lips to Brayden’s neck. Cursing under his breath, Brayden tilted his head against the wall and scrabbled at the back of Flip’s sweater to pull it up. “Thissweater,” he said, and then he lost his words on a cut-off groan when Flip scraped his teeth up to Brayden’s ear. “This sweater has been tormenting meall day.”

He got it rucked up to Flip’s armpits, but Flip didn’t seem to want to stop what he was doing long enough for Brayden to have his satisfaction. Brayden kneed him gently in the side, shoving him away, and finally Flip lifted his arms and stripped off the sweater, somewhat imperiously. It dropped unlamented to the bathroom floor.

For the first time, Brayden got to drink his fill, unworried about being caught. Flip’s smooth brown skin covered lean muscle, a dancer’s build—strange for Brayden to think, as he was broader across the chest than Flip was. Cut hipbones—Brayden licked his lips—a dusting of wiry chest hair—

“You’vebeen tormented?” Flip enunciated, stalking forward again with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “Your cursed high school baseball T-shirt has lost all its shape, and you’re always flashingthisat me.” He slid his hands under Brayden’s sweater and ran them up his flanks. He kept going until Brayden had to raise his arms so the offending garment could join its fellow in ignominy.

Brayden put his hands on Flip’s obliques and traced his thumbs up toward his nipples. Flip kissed him again, pressing closer between Brayden’s thighs. There was no mistaking the hard line of his cock as it pressed against Brayden’s, or the possessive way he kissed, or the shiver that went through Brayden when Flip bit gently at his lower lip. Breaking the kiss, Brayden fumbled for the button of Flip’s trousers. “I can’t believe—you brought me all the way toFinland—” Flip kept interrupting with more kisses. “—toseduce me. I was—a sure thing—”

“Shut up,” Flip said warmly and kissed him again. But he seemed to have developed a taste for Brayden’s throat, or else he had noticed that kisses there made Brayden gasp and squirm, because he worked his way south again. “I wanted to.”

Brayden shuddered and finally eased Flip’s fly open. He slid his hand into the opening and palmed Flip’s cock through his absurdly expensive underwear. He was hard and thick, and Brayden could feel his foreskin sliding beneath the fabric as he worked him. “Please tell me you have—” Flip sucked a mark over the tendon in his neck. “—fuck, please tell me you have condoms and lube somewhere on your person, I swear to God.”

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