Page 48 of Prince Material
His smile was bright enough to rival the morning sun. “Good, because that’s who I want to be. Especially with you.”
The boat docked, breaking the moment, but Floris kept hold of my hand as we disembarked. His palm was warm against mine, and I marveled at how natural it felt, how right.
“Want to walk around a bit?” I suggested, nodding toward a nearby nature trail. “There’s a boardwalk that goes through the cypress grove.”
“Lead the way.”
The wooden boardwalk creaked under our feet as we walked, surrounded by ancient trees draped in Spanish moss.Water rippled below, dark and mysterious, occasionally disturbed by something moving beneath the surface.
“It’s beautiful here,” Floris said quietly. “But also kind of eerie. Like the trees are watching us.”
“They probably are.” I squeezed his hand. “Local folklore says the bayou has a memory, that it remembers everything that’s happened here.”
He turned to look at me, curiosity bright in his eyes. “Is that why you love it? Because it remembers?”
The question caught me off guard with its insight. “Maybe. I used to come here a lot as a teen. Something about this place made me feel connected to him. Like the bayou remembered him too.”
Floris stepped closer, his free hand coming up to brush a curl from my forehead. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Thank you for wanting to see it.” I leaned into his touch slightly. “Most people don’t understand why I love it here.”
“I do.” His voice was soft. “It’s part of who you are, like the canals and dikes are part of who I am. These places shape us, make us who we are.”
I looked at him then and felt that now-familiar ache. How had this prince, with his designer clothes and royal pedigree, come to understand me so well? How had he slipped past all my carefully constructed defenses?
“What?” he asked, noticing my intense stare.
I struggled to find the right words. “Sometimes, I can’t believe you’re real. That you’re here, in my swamp, holding my hand and actually getting why this place matters.”
His smile was soft, genuine in a way his public ones rarely were. “Where else would I want to be?”
And maybe it was the magic of the bayou, or the way the morning light caught his eyes, or that I was tired of fighting whatI felt, but I kissed him. Right there on the boardwalk, surrounded by ancient cypress trees and Spanish moss, I pulled him close and pressed my lips to his.
He made a surprised sound that quickly melted into something softer as he kissed me back. His free hand came up to cup my face, and everything else fell away—my fears, my doubts, all of it gone in the warmth of his touch.
When we finally pulled apart, his eyes were bright with joy and something deeper that made my heart race. “So much for taking it slow,” he teased, but his voice was breathless.
“Shut up,” I muttered, heat creeping up my neck. “You were looking at me with those eyes, and I…”
“These eyes?” He batted his eyelashes exaggeratedly, and I couldn’t help laughing.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like it.” His thumb traced my cheekbone, sending shivers down my spine. “You like me.”
“God help me, I do.” The admission felt like letting go of a weight I hadn’t known I was carrying. “I really do.”
Floris’s smile was radiant. “Good, because I really like you too. In case that wasn’t obvious from all the terrible flirting and lingering looks.”
“Was that what those were? I thought you were having vision problems.”
He laughed, the sound echoing across the water. “See? This is why I like you. You can match my snark step for step.”
A nearby splash made us both jump, probably an alligator sliding into the water. The sound brought me back to reality. We were still standing on a public boardwalk, though thankfully alone for the moment.
“We should head back,” I said reluctantly. “Mom will be wondering where we are.”
“Right.” But Floris didn’t move, his hand still warm against my cheek. “One more thing.”
