Page 50 of The Pakhan's Forced Bride
He’s so much fun to hang out with, and ever since we spent that very intimate night together, he’s actually been lettinghis walls down and showing me a different side of himself. A softer side. Someone who enjoys joking and teasing and smiles often.
And he often reaches for me, brushing his hand over my arm affectionally or letting his fingers trace up and down my back. He’s constantly wanting to touch me.
He’s taken me by surprise with this secret side of him.
“The blue one,” he says, tilting his head to the side to examine both options I’m holding up.
“Really?” I ask, thinking it's a bit too revealing.
“Yes, it matches your eyes,” he says.
I hold the blue top up against my body, and he nods. “Definitely. It’ll also show off your gorgeous curves.” He winks at me, and my cheeks flush pink with desire. He can turn me on with a glance, never mind these playful comments and gentle touches.
“You must be mindlessly bored with all this shopping,” I say, bumping my hip against him as we walk out of the store, my shopping bags swinging in my hand.
He shakes his head and wraps his arm around my waist. “It’s hard to be bored with you around, little bunny. You are an endless source of entertainment.”
“Entertainment? And here I thought you were enjoying my company.”
“You’re the full package, a front row seat. Beautiful to look at. Funny. Cheeky. Feisty. Full of laughter and easily excited by the smallest things.”
I giggle, realizing he’s describing my personality pretty well.
We get iced coffee and cinnamon donuts and sit on a bench near the waterfront, people watching and rating surfers’ skills as they catch waves, even though I have no knowledge of surfing. I throw little pieces of donuts at the seagulls despite Ardalion's warning me that it’s a bad idea.
One or two seagulls quickly turn into five, then ten, then suddenly it feels like we’re in that old movie by Alfred Hitchcock—The Birds.
Except it’s seagulls. And now I’m laughing so hard I’m crying because we’ve both lost our donuts to those greedy little birds, and we’re running away from the bench with Ardalion’s arm covering my head.
When we’re a safe distance away from the seagull horde, Ardalion snorts an indignant laugh and says, “I told you so.”
I roll my eyes. “You always know better, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. This is my city, after all.”
I lean into him, grinning. “Sorry about your donut.”
“You owe me one.” He winks, his eyes full of mischief.
“How about I take you on a date on Saturday?” I ask, spontaneously.
“You—takemeon a date?”
“Girls can take guys on dates,” I huff.
“I’d love to,” he grins, wrapping his arm around me as we head back towards the car.
***
On Saturday morning, I’m in an overexcited mood. I think I’ve got everything perfectly planned, and I’m really looking forward to the date with Ardalion.
I wanted to do something quiet and relaxing, so I chose a picnic on the grass promenade overlooking the ocean. We have a lot of fun just talking and people watching, and what better place to do it.
The picnic basket is packed, I have a blanket for the grass, cups, plates, a nice assortment of snacks—I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything.
And this time, I won’t be feeding any seagulls.
To keep it a surprise, I take the car and head to the beachfront early to set everything up, telling Ardalion to meet me a little later in the morning. I spread the blanket out beneath the shade of a palm tree and even put a pretty arrangement of flowers in the center. Men deserve to get flowers, too.
